Finn cursed under his breath as the arrow veered wide. He had waited until they were close—close enough to see the firelight shake on the man’s mask—and aimed for his head as steadily as he could manage. It still only grazed his arm.

  The man’s furious shout rang out behind him.

  Finn didn’t wait. He turned and bolted. His shoes pounded across roots and moss, heart thrumming like a drum at the same pace, lungs burning.

  I should have grabbed a crossbow! he thought, sprinting away.

  Earlier, he had seen them: masked men slipping from the village, heading into the woods. He had followed them like he always did, shadowing their movements with the pride of Greystone’s “best spy.” This time, though, it wasn’t a game. He knew what day it was.

  Before he went, he had stolen the bow and arrow from the barracks when the guards were too busy celebrating the viscount’s arrival. He could only find the one arrow. If he struck true—took out a cultist by himself—maybe people would call him a hero. Would finally recognize him as the greatest hero.

  But he hadn’t. And now they knew he was here.

  “I just need to make it back to Veronica!” he muttered through panting breath. “Warn her! She’ll know what to do!”

  Luckily, it was just a few grownups and a scary-looking demon monster that seemed too bulky to run. Finn was confident in his escaping abilities.

  He heard an explosion behind him. He didn’t turn. Luckily, he had already begun running. Whatever they wanted to do, he could outrun.

  That was until the forest behind him pulsed with light. A roar like an erupting volcano shook the air. Finn flinched; he stumbled and fell, his palms getting scraped by the dirt. He tried to scramble back up, but when he looked over his shoulder—he froze.

  The demon’s chest was burning. Through the few trees between them, Finn saw the light. It was hard to miss.

  Fire pooled in its throat, molten cracks spilling through its armor-like skin. The blast was meant for him.

  Finn’s breath caught. He tried to get up, his mind kept screaming for him to run.

  He’s really far away… there’s no way, right?! he thought. But if he’s going to attack me anyway, then that means…!

  His limbs wouldn’t move. He was stuck in his thought. Would it, or would it not reach him?

  His thoughts were cut apart as a figure appeared between him and the walking inferno called a demon.

  At first, it was only a silhouette, blurred by flame and smoke. But he saw the hair, long and wild, gleaming faintly below the fading sunset.

  She raised her hands. A shimmering wall of light and force billowed outward, spanning wide. Wide enough to cover her, but also—him.

  The world became fire. An endless torrent of heat that rolled over them.

  The blast consumed everything. Trees shriveled to cinders, dirt blasted upward, the canopy ripped away as if the sky itself had fallen. Finn hit the ground with his arms over his head, but the searing heat still licked around him.

  It felt endless. A furnace swallowing the forest.

  And then… silence.

  Finn slowly cracked his eyes open.

  The forest hadn’t vanished completely—just most of it. Directly ahead of him, the trees still stood, bark unscorched, grass still green. But to his left and right stretched a cone of annihilation.

  The blast had carved a path of ruin that fanned outward like a giant’s claw. Entire trees were nothing but charred spires, bark blackened and crumbling. Branches collapsed into cinders with the faintest touch of wind. The ground was stripped bare, reduced to ash and glowing embers that still smoldered where roots had been.

  Finn froze. He sat at the very tip of that cone. Had Veronica not stood where she had, had her barrier not bent the flames… he would have been nothing but ash among the trees.

  Relief burst through him. He laughed once, breathless, almost giddy. “You… you blocked it,” he whispered. “You actually blocked it! I knew you were strong!”

  Excitement surged in his chest. Veronica wasn’t just some traveling mage—she was powerful—powerful enough to stop a demon’s fire. He was sure that bugging her to become her apprentice wasn’t for nothing!

  But then he looked again. Closer this time.

  Her silhouette wavered in the haze. The barrier was gone now, leaving only her body outlined in the ruin. She still stood, but smoke trailed from her arms. Her shoulders hunched as if every breath weighed more than she could bear.

  Finn’s smile faltered. The rush of excitement drained from his face, replaced with a sharp, piercing stab of realization.

  She hadn’t emerged unscathed. She had held it all, taken everything head-on.

  “...Veronica,” Finn whispered, voice cracking. Was she injured because of him? She got burned because he was being reckless?

  He jumped up, the adrenaline making him stumble in the loose dirt. His limbs were shaking, but he tried ignored it. He had to reach Veronica. To say he was sorry, that this was his fault that she got hurt, that he never should have done something so careless.

  “Don’t come closer!”

  The shout came sharp through the smoke, sharper than a steel blade. Finn froze mid-step.

  Her chin was still dipped, face hidden. One of her sleeves was gone, burnt away at the shoulder. Blackened patches marked her skin where the flames had licked through.

  Her chest heaved with each breath, but her stance was unshaken, her arms still raised as if daring the world to try again, as if she’d be ready to bring up another barrier at any time.

  Finn’s throat tightened. “Veronica, I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

  “I don’t blame you.” Her voice was steady, if ragged. “You only wanted to help. Right?”

  He swallowed hard, tears stinging his eyes. He nodded, words caught in his throat.

  “You remind me of someone,” she continued, softer now, though her gaze never left the demon ahead. “A boy who stayed back to protect his sister. He died for her. That kind of courage—don’t ever discount it. If you never fight back, you’ll die a nobody.”

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  “But… but—”

  “Listen to me, Finn,” Veronica cut him off, her voice sharp again, “Honestly, I’m quite angry right now. You made a mistake, and I got hurt because of it. But only half of that is your fault. The other half’s mine for saving you. That kid's name and damn blue cloth just had to show up in my mind.”

  Finn gulped. He had no idea what blue cloth Veronica was talking about.

  The cultists in front of her shifted slightly, staring at her. The demon’s eyes narrowed on her, almost wondering how she was still standing.

  “Regardless, you need to fix your mistake,” Veronica continued, straightening slightly. “If you want to be the greatest hero of Greystone, then go back. Warn the town. Tell the Baron and the Viscount that cultists are after Claire. Warn them that the town may also be under attack soon. Get whoever you can. They need to prepare to fight back.”

  She huffed a deep breath and said one final thing. “Save those who can save others. I'm going to stay here for a while.”

  Her tone left no room for argument.

  Finn’s lips trembled, but he forced his mouth shut. His fists clenched at his sides. Then, with a stiff nod, he turned and bolted. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he vanished into the treeline. He threw the bow aside, letting it land into a pile of cinders.

  One of the cultists snarled. “Oh no he doesn’t!” He lunged after Finn, intent on following him.

  Veronica’s head twitched upward just enough to show one glowing eye through the curtain of her hair. Her arm rose. Light gathered in her palm. Brilliant—merciless.

  The cultist never made it another step. His body detonated in a white-hot blast, erased from existence, as a brilliant beam tore through the air, leaving nothing but a missing corpse and half of a cloak with a pair of boots. The beam continued, striking into the tree behind it and toppling the entire thing over backward.

  The remaining cultists staggered back, fear flashing through their masks. The demon, however, did not flinch. It leaned forward, its molten eyes narrowing. Its voice grated like stone dragged over gravel.

  “You… who are you?”

  Slowly, Veronica lifted her head. Her hair fell aside, revealing her face smeared with ash, yet unbroken all the same. Fury sharpened her features in the dark, but a faint curve of a grin— smugness—tugged at her lips under the moonlight.

  She was back in familiar territory.

  Her eyes blazed, violet light burning from within. She slowly wiped her arms off, the blackened ash covering her sliding off with ease. Sage’s barrier had done well to protect most of her skin.

  “Me?” she said, voice calm, steady, almost demanding reverence. “I’m Veronica. Just a mage passing through.”

  [Fatal injury probability has reached over 80%. All bodily safety measures are overridden. Pain suppression is active. Adrenaline production increased.]

  [Mana Rings are now operating at over-limit speeds.]

  [Mana Ring frequencies have been matched.]

  [Mana Core capacity has been forcibly expanded.]

  [Mana Cores have achieved perfect resonance.]

  [You have entered your "Exalted Form.”]

  [Please finish the battle within 20 minutes to avoid permanent adverse effects on your mana cores.]

  Her Exalted Form.

  The reason people once called her the Exalted Mage had nothing to do with being a 10th-tier mage. It was never about raw rank. It was a technique—one only possible for someone with two mana cores.

  Years of study had gone into it. Painful years, and very careful ones. Most of them spent alongside Maeve, dissecting her condition piece by piece, searching for something—anything—that could be turned into an advantage.

  Maeve had been the one to name it.

  The name of the technique still embarrassed Veronica, regardless.

  But she couldn’t deny the truth. It was powerful. And it was the only good thing that had ever come from Medusa’s curse. It was a technique she only learned near the 5th tier. She had never used it this early before.

  20 minutes, huh? That’s much longer than I thought at just Tier-2.

  Veronica exhaled, slow and steady. She pinched and rubbed her fingers together. Ash crumbled off in small flakes.

  Her outfit was practically ruined; half of it now clung loosely to her body. The right side of her clothes was intact, while the left side had been completely burned. What fabric remained only served to frame the upper black strap and curve of her bra, which stood stark against the black soot streaking across her skin. The flames had also carved small holes that simmered, exposing her side that was now also veiled in black ash.

  She clicked her tongue. “Tch. I only bought this set a few days ago. And now look at it.” Her eyes flicked down to her body. “That’s the last time I buy expensive, unenchanted clothes.”

  She pulled off what used to be the left sleeve of her dress, now only a rag. She slowly ran her hands across her skin, brushing away the soot in long streaks, wiping her shoulders, neck, and sides as best she could.

  Although she had been consumed in the fire, the moment her Exalted Form activated, the initial burst of mana she received—nearly all of it—was converted into excess mana, just to power a form-fitted barrier. This was the excess mana reward that she had received.

  Thanks, Sage.

  She wouldn't have died from the fire, but at least this way, she avoided much of the damage and pain; her clothes had too. At least, enough to still be modest. The money she had spent on them however, had practically gone up in flames.

  One of the cultists found his voice, seeing the nonchalance of Veronica in front of them. It was like she was mocking them, more concerned about the dirt on her than being in their presence.

  “If you think sending that boy off changes anything…” He pointed a trembling hand at her. “You’re delusional. That one strike nearly killed you. You’re too weak to stop us, even if you took care of the assassins we sent. We know your capabilities.”

  Veronica chuckled. It was soft at first, then low and dark as she tilted her head, still brushing soot off her collarbones and shoulders.

  “You got two things wrong,” she said.

  The cultist tensed. “Wrong?”

  She raised a finger, as if lecturing a child. “First—you assume what you saw me do against those assassins was the limit of my power.”

  The cultist said nothing, but from his body’s movements, there was clear hesitation.

  Her second finger lifted, calm and deliberate. “Second—you think I sent Finn away just to warn the town? That was part of it, sure. Maybe he’ll save some lives if they listen to him. But the real reason…” She paused, her lips curling. Then she flicked her hand upward in a clawing sweep, two white wings flashing ever so briefly.

  The air howled sharply.

  A whirlwind erupted beneath the two cultists. They were yanked screaming into the air before slamming hard against the trunks of the trees behind them; a sickening crunch exploded out that split bark and bone alike. Blood sprayed around them onto the wood. Both crumpled, bodies involuntarily coughing more blood, their masks broken and falling.

  They died a couple of seconds later.

  Veronica straightened, ripping one last strip of ruined cloth from her hip. Now, she looked like the war-born apocalyptic mage of the past, as if she had run through a battlefield of flames—a hint of what she’d become again in the future.

  Her violet gaze sharpened, fixed squarely on the last towering figure. The demon stared back at her, growling low. It didn’t seem too concerned with the fact that the cultists beside it had just met their demise.

  “The real reason,” she murmured, almost to herself, “was that I didn’t have to worry about hurting him. I can’t exactly go all out if I have to worry about a nosy kid hanging around. I can’t bear to see them get hurt by accident.”

  Light gathered in her palm; spectral wings flared into being, sharp and white.

  One wing… two wings… three wings. Her hair lifted, mana and power forming an aura around her body. Her clothes fluttered as the mana within her could no longer be contained.

  [Base Form Status]

  Current Tier: Tier-2 Mage

  Mana: 227/560 MU

  Mana Regeneration: 220 MU/hour

  -

  [Exalted Form Status]

  Equivalent Tier: Tier-3 Mage

  Mana: 227/560+560 MU

  Mana Regeneration: 7.33 MU/second

  The mana cores in her body strained, both sets of mana rings spinning at multiple times their normal maximum speed. Her mana room rumbled as the vibrational force rocked her body. Her heart was racing; she felt an impulse to just explode and detonate everything around her.

  Veronica could count on her fingers the few times she needed to fight at her strongest in a one-on-one battle. That included her fight against the Demon Crown Prince Xertal. She never fought battles until the 7th-tier, when the Kingdom permitted her to leave Annesheim and assist the military.

  And even then, she only ever destroyed things from up in the sky. A mage like her wasn’t suited for duels.

  A battle like this—grounded and unrestrained—was still quite rare to her. Regardless, she wasn't going to take it easy.

  “The kingdom doesn’t like wanton destruction that ruins the environment. That rule really hindered me back then. But now? Honestly, if it’s to kill a demon…” Her fingers curled, trembling to restrain the overflowing power. “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

  Her eyes locked onto the demon’s. It stared back, claws shifting slightly, smoke rising from its mouth.

  “After all, the worst thing about being a Path of Ruin mage… is having to hold back.”

  CONTENT UPDATE

  This gets a bit long. Sorry!

  everything, but I will be focusing on the problematic points.

  Veronica's adherence to children. I've read your comments about her rationale between saving others, or letting them die. I had a clear image in mind for why she's like how she is, but I did a bad job conveying it. I'll be noting that below. You don't necessarily need to read anything else, but the portion about her mental state related to children will be important, and I had done a bad job at expressing that early throughout the story. Even if you don't reread the chapter or story from here on, I'll be carefully conveying her thoughts better regardkess.

  Thank you for commenting and helping me improve the story!

  Also provided Context that in the world she came from, she lived by moving from safepoint to safepoint, which had caches of food preserved or frozen with magic. Most animals had already passed away due to the world rotting from demonic corruption, so hunting wasn't needed, and not reliable, since there were various points of interests she was darting between, protecting, that held food to survive off on.

  did to survive, moving from place to place, and how sometimes she simply had to starve for days on end.

  Veronica's Internal Mental State & Regret/Trauma (Will be included in Chapter 12 shortly, and expanded throughout the series).

  She stood there, jaw clenched. A long sigh escaped her lips.

  While she was resolved to killing anything and anyone that got in her way—she had a soft spot for children. After… that incident, she couldn’t simply ignore them. Every child she saw reminded her of that pair of children. That little blue cloth… etched in her memory.

  Veronica never really recovered from that day.

  Summoning a meteor to destroy a city overrun by demons, even with civilians in it—that was easy. Not completely easy—she had morals, of course. But killing some people to make a dent in the demon invasion’s forces, it was a good war strategy. Death of a few hundred innocents, for death of several thousand demons.

  The only reason she could do this—was because it was impersonal. She never got a chance to see the faces of those doomed for oblivion. Never a chance to hear their pleas or cries. No families to meet and explain her actions.

  All of that was handled by the others.

  Everyone promised her that she didn’t need to experience that. That’s why she always flew up in the sky—to rain down hell. It was all so she could hide away from the truth of her magic. It was like shooting an arrow from a hundred meters away, versus stabbing someone directly in the heart.

  Thank you so much.

  Path of Ruin and Path of Longevity

  Path of Ruin and Path of Longevity specialize in continually powered destruction. Rather than single bursts of force or power, their magic remains active as long as mana is continually supplied, focusing on continued destruction than instant devastation. These include spells that summon flames that do not burn out, cascading icicles that never stop growing and striking at their target, or spears of mana that continually fire and strike at their target in a barrage. This configuration of disciplines is particular effective in suppression and long-term sieges, using firepower to slowly break apart an enemy's defense using sheer inevitable destructive power.