Chapter 25: Toast-Shaped Worlds and Dragon Tales

As evening descended, the crimson hues of the setting sun painted the room. Elara leaned by the balcony, idly flipping through the pages of a book in her hands.

It was the spatial magic reference material she had borrowed from the guild.

Yet, a slight frown creased her brow.

‘This material… it contains quite a few errors.’

For someone at her current stage, some of the theories within directly contradicted her practical experience. The fusion magic theories, in particular, regarding the effects of combining spatial magic with different elements, seemed more like mere speculation.

Upon reflection, it was understandable. Such reference books were not collaboratively written by renowned scholars from across the world, thus failing to meet any standard of ‘authority.’

Elara closed the book and took a deep breath of the evening breeze, her gaze lingering on the beautiful sunset in the distance.

At moments like these, she often marveled at the wonders of this world.

It was a world of gods, a world of magic; everything felt novel and fresh. The flow of magic through her fingertips, no matter how many times she experienced it, remained utterly enchanting.

“Sister—”

Hilvyn’s voice drifted up from downstairs. She was looking up, waving at Elara.

Hilvyn had just returned from the tailor’s shop at the end of the alley. Martha, the proprietress of the shop, was quite fond of her, often asking Hilvyn to be a ‘fitting model’ to try on various clothes.

Despite her habit of spouting strange remarks, the proprietress was actually a rather nice person.

Elara had a sneaking suspicion that Hilvyn’s question from last night—about the meaning of ‘love’—had its origins there.

“Master, I’m back!”

Hilvyn pushed the door open, her hair reverting to its silvery-white hue. She casually placed a cloth bag onto the small table.

“What’s this?”

Elara pointed at the bag.

“Aunt Martha gave it to me. Clothes.”

Aunt Martha was the tailor shop proprietress, already well into her seventies.

“Did you thank her?”

“Of course! I know a thing or two about manners.”

Hilvyn’s tone then shifted, “Do you want to see me wear it, Master?”

She gestured to the new clothing, her blue eyes sparkling with anticipation as she awaited Elara’s answer.

Elara glanced at the clothes, then met Hilvyn’s gaze.

‘…So intense.’

“Go on, let’s see.”

Truthfully, Elara was rather curious herself.

The dress was a primrose yellow, cinched at the waist, with simple embroidered edges and a string of white wind chimes embroidered on the skirt. It looked elegant yet understated.

Hilvyn took the dress and went behind the screen in the corner of the room—a piece of furniture acquired after Hilvyn’s arrival. After a rustle of movement, she bounced out.

The moment Elara saw her, she was captivated, losing herself in admiration for a few seconds.

The long dress itself was relatively simple, but paired with Hilvyn’s pure and lovely face, she looked strikingly like an elf princess.

“Does it look good?” Hilvyn asked, twirling around.

“Cough… it looks wonderful.”

Elara managed to compose herself slightly, averting her gaze, though she couldn’t resist sneaking another peek or two.

“Is that all~?” Hilvyn leaned closer, her expectant gaze fixed on Elara’s eyes. “Nothing else?”

Those deep blue pupils held a light that Elara found impossible to resist.

“I actually really like it,” Elara confessed honestly.

“As long as Master likes it.”

Elara couldn’t shake the feeling that the remark carried a slightly different meaning than intended.

“It just feels a little tight around the chest,” Hilvyn said, pointing to her chest, where two natural curves subtly pushed against the fabric. It was a thoughtful touch from Aunt Martha.

“Should we take it to the tailor shop tomorrow to have it altered a bit? Otherwise, it would be too awkward to wear outside.”

“Alright, but there’s no need to…”

Hilvyn held back a thought. Aunt Martha had told her: *This dress is meant to be worn for someone you like.*

****

Night fell. The two lay in bed, conversing about everything and nothing.

“…You should write a book instead, Master.”

“Yes, no matter how many times I try, it doesn’t feel right. The book’s descriptions of magic effects are clearly just guesses.”

“After all, Master is a dual-elemental user of dark and spatial magic; you’re one in tens of thousands.”

“If I were to write it, the first chapter would be titled: ‘If you’re not a dark-spatial dual-elemental, please swipe to the next book.’”

“Hehehehehe…”

After a bout of laughter, Hilvyn stared at the perfectly square ceiling, lost in thought.

“Master.”

“Hm?”

“What shape do you think the world is?”

“I mean the ground we stand on,” Hilvyn added.

“Spherical, probably,” Elara answered instinctively, then corrected herself. “No, not necessarily. It could also be flat on top and round on the bottom.”

“I bet it’s toast-shaped.”

“You’re always thinking about toast.”

“I have evidence!” Hilvyn sat up, indicating she wasn’t joking.

“What’s your evidence?” Elara’s interest was piqued.

Hilvyn ‘thumped’ back onto her pillow, her hand suspended in the air as she gestured. “Look, Master, don’t the sun and moon take turns appearing in the sky?”

Elara removed the silvery strands of hair that had ‘fallen’ onto her face, keeping a lock in her hand to slowly toy with.

“Mm-hmm.”

“So the sun is honeybell melon jam, and the moon is wind chime berry jam. That means the world is a giant piece of toast, with honeybell melon jam, which is the sun, on one side, and wind chime berry jam, which is the moon, on the other.”

‘Hear, hear!’

“That certainly aligns with your appetite.”

Whether it was correct or not, it certainly satisfied her stomach.

“Master, you said…”

“What is it now?”

“Didn’t Master know the story of how pure-blooded dragons were born?”

“Ah, I know a little.”

“I want to hear it.”

“Aren’t we listening to the Great Sage Equal to Heaven today?”

“Hehe, let’s switch things up a bit.”

“Alright,” Elara responded, considering the story for a moment before beginning softly: “Each pure-blooded dragon represents the most refined magical attribute, and their births are extraordinary. For example, ice dragons are born in the depths of the frigid oceans, while fire dragons emerge from the scorching sun…”

“They don’t merely *use* magic; they *are* magic itself. The immense magic they naturally dissipate influences other creatures, which is how ordinary wyverns and dragonkin come into existence.”

“Myra said ‘the five existing dragons,’ does that mean two have already died?”

“That… I’m not sure about.”

Elara usually paid no mind to outside affairs, focusing solely on her commissions, so she hadn’t looked into it.

“If the Demon King attacks, or those pure-blooded dragons attack, what should we do?”

“What should we do? Just chill.”

The peak of normal biological strength was S+ rank, while pure-blooded dragons were classified as SS rank, meaning they could slaughter S-ranks as easily as dogs.

Elara thought of Sevia, the Guild Master, and some other powerful individuals she had met. Even these formidable figures would be powerless, rendering her own efforts negligible.

“Are the Demon King and pure-blooded dragons really that strong?”

“Extremely strong. Stronger than ten thousand of you combined. Even Guild Master Sevia would be instantly killed.”

“Then why was the Hero Aivyn able to kill the Demon King?”

“Because she was a Hero.” Elara was getting sleepy, ready to end the conversation. “Alright, let’s go to sleep. If something like that happens, it has nothing to do with small fries like us. When the sky falls, the tall ones will hold it up. Living our lives comfortably is more important than anything else.”

“Okay, Master, goodnight.”

Hilvyn snuggled deeper into the blanket, facing Elara.

“Goodnight.”

Seven days remained until the dungeon opened.