[A time that might have been] Ubel

[Perhaps existing spacetime]

A small village near the northern border is shrouded in a tranquil, untouched peace, Frozen by the harsh winter, where time flows slowly and viscously, like a frozen stream.

Thin rays of sunlight filtered through the bare branches of the oak tree, casting dappled patterns of light on the frozen, hard earth. The air was filled with the smells of cooking fires, the faint odor of frozen earth and livestock sheds, and occasionally, the faint aroma of roasted potatoes wafting from a crack in someone's window.

On the edge of the village, there was a low, simple tailor shop. The shop was made of rough logs and mud bricks, and a wooden sign with blurred words, eroded by wind and snow, hung at the door, with the words "Tailor" written crookedly on it. Two sisters lived here.

My sister's name has long been lost to time. The villagers only remember her as a gentle and capable girl with skillful hands and seemingly inexhaustible patience.

My younger sister's name was Ubel. Back then, she was a little girl with bright, sparkling eyes and a face red from the cold. She always liked to snuggle up to her older sister like a little animal that was afraid of the cold.

The two sisters depended on each other for survival. Their parents had died years ago from a mild but potentially fatal cold in the dead of winter. Perhaps it was simply a lack of medical care and medicine; perhaps this was the common fate of the poor in the border regions.

In short, after that, the young older sister, with her immature yet prematurely burdened shoulders, supported the family and the shop that barely earned a few copper coins.

Ubel's happiest times were in the shop. She would sit on a small stool in the corner, watching her sister sit by the window in the soft light, her nimble fingers guiding the needle and thread, weaving through the rough fabric with a fine, rhythmic "shush-shush" sound. Those originally cheap, dull-colored fabrics seemed to be given life in her sister's hands, turning into well-fitting dresses and warm trousers.

Occasionally, her older sister would look up, exhale a puff of white breath, and give Ubel a brief, weary smile, like melting snow, as she handed her a soft scrap of cloth. "Little Ubel, are you cold?... Want to try this on...?"

Ubel would try her best to Imitation, her cold fingers clumsily gripping the needle, the stitches crooked and uneven, but she never tired of it. The air was filled with the chill, the scent of old fabric, and the faint, cheap soapy smell of her sister.

My older sister would hum soft, unnamed songs in a low, almost inaudible voice, recounting fragments of tales about distant kingdoms and heroes she had heard from passing caravans that stopped to mend clothes. Occasionally, she would sing "The Little Match Girl" or "The Golden Flea"...

Ubel curled up on the cold, low stool, longing for that kind of life. Her smile had once been innocent and pure. She thought that life would be like the thread in her sister's hands, rough but able to be patched up and made to go on.

However, life-changing moments are often associated with violence.

It was a seemingly ordinary afternoon, but one chilling to the bone. My sister was rushing to finish a wedding dress ordered by a girl from a neighboring village, for a meager wage, while Ubel rubbed his frozen hands beside her, helping to sort through the few remaining colorful silk threads. Suddenly, the shop's flimsy, drafty wooden door was violently kicked open!

Several men, dressed in shabby, tattered clothes, wrapped in dirty animal skins, and reeking of cheap alcohol and sweat, barged in. They were bandits who lived in the nearby mountains, surviving by robbing passing merchants and extorting money from weak villages.

"Oh, so this godforsaken place has this kind of trash." The leader grinned, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth, his lecherous gaze sweeping over the older sister's somewhat thin but still undeniably beautiful face. "Come up the mountain with us brothers and have some fun? It's much better than starving and freezing in this godforsaken place!"

The older sister's face turned deathly pale. She grabbed Ubel and pulled her behind her, shielding her with her frail body, barely able to keep out the wind. Her voice trembled with fear and cold. "What... what do you want? We don't have... money... the money's in the cupboard, just a few copper coins... take it, please don't hurt me and my sister..."

"We want the money, and... we want the person too!" The bandit leader chuckled, a cold wind blowing as he reached out to grab the older sister.

"Don't touch my sister!" Ubel, emboldened by some unknown source, peeked out from behind her sister and shoved the man with her tiny, red, frozen hands. But she was too small; her strength was like an ant trying to shake a tree.

Enraged by this feeble resistance, the man slapped Ubel hard across the face. Ubel's vision went black, and he fell heavily to the cold ground, his cheek immediately swelling and burning with pain.

"Ubel!" the older sister cried out, trying to pounce on her.

Another bandit seized the opportunity to twist the older sister's arm from behind with brute force. The older sister struggled fiercely, but how could a frail woman, whose strength was honed by years of sewing and constant hunger, possibly contend with these burly thugs who roamed the mountains?

"Damn it, they won't listen to reason, so they'll have to suffer the consequences!" The bandit leader spat and gestured to his men, "Tie those two girls up! In this awful weather, take them back to warm up!"

"Let me go! Help!" The older sister's cries for help sounded particularly shrill in the quiet and cold afternoon, but the village was too small and the neighbors were far away. Those who occasionally heard the noise were afraid of these desperate criminals and only dared to close the doors and windows even tighter.

Seeing that her sister was about to be dragged away like cargo, she suddenly stopped struggling and said in an unusually calm voice, as if she had been frozen in time, "Wait! I'll go back with you, but let go of my sister! If you dare touch Ubel even a finger, I'll bite my tongue and kill myself! Then, all you'll get is a cold corpse!"

The bandits were taken aback.

A dead woman is indeed troublesome and boring in this freezing weather.

The leader squinted his eyes, clouded by alcohol and lust, and glanced at Ubel, who was trembling with fear, her face pale and blood trickling from the corner of her mouth. He then looked at his sister, who, though restrained, had an icy, defiant gaze. His muddled mind weighed the options.

"Tsk... Fine." The leader waved his hand impatiently. "Tie this little brat up to the side, don't let her get in the way. As for you..." He leered at the older sister, "It's more fun when you're alive, right? Well, your sister's life or death depends on whether you cooperate tonight..."

The rough, chafing hemp rope mercilessly bound Ubel's hands and feet, tossing her aside like trash next to a cold woodpile in the corner. She struggled desperately, her mouth stuffed with a dirty, stiff rag, only able to make muffled "woo-woo" sounds, her tears turning cold as soon as they flowed.

She watched helplessly as those filthy hands roughly groped through her sister's thin clothes, and as her sister was tightly bound with even thicker ropes, the ropes digging deep into her body.

Her sister didn't look at her again, perhaps because she didn't dare to, afraid that her eyes would betray her despair. She just bit her lower lip, which was already frozen purple, until blood seeped from it, like a red plum blossom that suddenly Bloom in the snow and was quickly Frozen.

My sister was roughly dragged out of the door, her steps unsteady, her frail figure disappearing into the biting wind and pale light outside.

"Sister... Sister..." Ubel cried out silently in her heart. The rope was cold and hard, digging deeply into her delicate, already numb skin.

She struggled fiercely, her knees scraping raw on the rough ground, the blood quickly turning icy cold, her wrists becoming a bloody mess, but the rope remained motionless, as if frozen in the cold air.

Why can't I break free?

Why is it so sturdy?

Why...

Just then, a thought cleaved through her mind like an icicle, carrying a cold, almost eerie clarity:

Rope... just like cloth, it's all "thread".

When my sister cuts the fabric, even the thickest fabric will snap with a "whoosh."

So... what about the rope?

Is it possible to "cut" it open as well?

The moment this thought arose, Ubel felt something "click" deep within her body, like ice shattering. Her emerald eyes lost focus, becoming empty and cold, yet it was as if countless tiny, invisible ice blades were spinning within them.

"Whoosh."

A very soft sound, like the wind blowing through icicles.

The thick hemp rope binding her was cleanly broken in the middle, the cut as smooth as a mirror, as if it had been sliced by the sharpest ice shard.

She stared blankly at her wrist, where only a dark purple band remained. Fine dust from the broken hemp rope fibers seemed to linger in the air.

Ah, right, ropes can be cut.

"Swish, swish."

She unconsciously swung her arms, and smooth cuts appeared on the scattered rags, the overturned wooden stool, and even the mottled mud wall. Yes, they could all be cut, and... that way, she could save her sister! Those villains could be cut too!

Ubel struggled to her feet and staggered out the door. But the door was empty; only the howling wind whipped up ice shards and the blurry, eerie outlines of the distant mountains and forests remained. Her sister had been taken away, vanished into the vast, seemingly all-consuming snowfield.

"Sister..." Ubel collapsed to her knees on the cold ground, her hands digging desperately into the frozen soil.

She found the broken rope, a tattered shoe that belonged to her sister, and a few drops of blood that had long since Frozen into dark red ice beads.

My older sister is missing.

She searched every possible cave and abandoned shack in the vicinity. Braving the biting wind, she asked everyone she met, describing her sister's appearance. But all she received were numb shakes of the head and fleeting glances of pity. The border was too vast, and the bandits too cunning. A person kidnapped was like a drop of water falling into the snow, vanishing without a trace in an instant.

From that moment on, Ubel changed.

She began to wander alone in the desolate and cold wilderness. Dressed in slightly worn but as neat a dress as possible, similar to her sister's, with an oversized old garment left by her sister over it, she looked like a lost and frail girl in need of help. She would deliberately linger in places frequented by bandits, lighting small campfires that seemed ready to be blown out by the wind at any moment, as if waiting for something.

When ill-intentioned people approach and eye her with greedy intent, her emerald eyes will quietly observe them, and then she will softly ask:

Have you... met my sister?

If the other party shows malice.

"Whoosh."

Usually, there won't be a chance to speak.

She later used the money she had saved up, which she didn't know where it came from, to buy a staff. Rather than a staff, apart from the material that could be used for spellcasting, the rest of the parts were more like a short trident. After all... she didn't have that much time to practice magic power. She was a self-taught practitioner... and since she didn't have any front-line guards to protect her, she also needed to practice melee combat.

She named her magic "Nothing Is Uncuttable." She could cast spells without a staff, but it would consume more energy, and in this frigid land, conserving her strength was more important. With it, she could better find her sister.

Okay, take it with you, kill a few more bandits, earn some money, and dress yourself up nicely... Dress yourself up as nicely and cleanly as your sister, and then more bandits will surely come looking for you, maybe you'll even find some clues...

Hmm, no, even though my sister is pretty, the bandits would probably like her even more...

A heart-shaped corset, a pleated mini skirt that barely covers the hips, a necklace, armbands, leg rings, and a single glove.

She looked herself over.

Yes, that's for the best. Any bandit would both like her and just think she's some rebellious young lady from who-knows-where.

Hmm... I can't quite remember how many bandits I killed.

Later, she heard that becoming First-Class Mage would grant her a spell bestowed by the legendary mage, Serie. Any spell would do.

Any kind of magic...

The examination hall for the First-Class Mage exam.

Ubel stood quietly, facing a silent male examiner who was said to be wearing something called an "Immovable Coat." Many mages' fireballs and ice arrows struck it without any effect, as if it were a small barrier.

It is said that anyone who can injure him or make him take a step back can pass this test.

But an hour has passed, and despite all sorts of magicians and attacks, he still hasn't moved an inch.

Oh, it's my turn.

"Attack at will," the examiner commanded.

"Oh, okay." She looked at the examiner.

"Whoosh."

The examiner's body, along with his Immovable Coat, was split in two.

The moment the blinding flash of blood appeared, the examination hall fell into a deathly silence. The two examiners— Sense and Falsh —watched this scene in silence.

Oh dear, I messed it up. There's nothing I can do about it. After all, it's a self-created magic, and the force isn't so easy to control. I originally intended to only cut through the clothes, but unfortunately, both the clothes and the body will be cut.

She wasn't killed. After all, this was an examination hall. While accidental killing is serious, it doesn't warrant the death penalty. There's nothing that can be done about not controlling one's strength.

"So... I've been disqualified, right? Can I leave now?" she asked the examiner sitting in front of her.

"Yes, but can you tell me how you cut open the 'Immovable Coat'?" The examiner Sense, with hair almost as long as his body, even wrapping around most of his body, and a face like a kitten, asked her expressionlessly.

"Ah, you must have never done needlework before?"

"... What does it matter?"

"Well, after all, you look like someone of high status... My sister taught me tailoring from a young age, so... clothes can be cut open, it's only natural."

Indeed, clothes can be cut... but any mage, even a beginner, can see the defensive power of that "Immovable Coat"... Her thinking is no longer that of a normal person. Sense thought to himself.

Ubel looked at Sense's long, cascading hair, which was clearly meticulously styled. "Examiner, your hair is so long; it must take a lot of time and effort to maintain it, right?"

Sense stirred slightly. "Indeed, it's a disaster."

"Do you want me to help you? Hair... can be cut too..." She held up the scissors, pointed at Sense's long hair, and made a "whoosh" motion.

Sense's hair is a weapon; she is one of the stronger First-Class Mages. She has applied multiple spells to her hair, including "hardening," "tracking," "wild growth," and various defensive spells. She has even killed a Demons general in close combat as a mage.

But she knew that if she faced this seemingly weak madwoman, she would probably be killed instantly.

The second First-Class Mage Exam, three years later.

Ubel stood in the examination room once again.

This time, she successfully passed the previous tests.

Finally, she stood before the legendary Great Mage, Serie.

Serie's gaze swept over her calmly and deeply.

"Tell me the magic you desire." Serie's voice was completely calm.

Please give me the magic to find the remains of my loved ones.

"This spell has already been chosen."

"Then, please find my sister's magic for me."