Just like that,
as she looked at her father's portrait, Triss understood that she did not have much confidence either.
She was only a first-rank Extraordinary, barely even reaching the threshold of the second rank.
But the Hughie Fal bloodline was unique.
In a sense, although there were very few distorted divine factors in their blood, that part of the gene still existed.
In other words,
her father and she herself were both godspawn.
We are all the descendants of gods, so we should slaughter one another.
Or kill Them completely.
That was the first sentence inscribed in the Hughie Fal family tree, yet it was also a death oath binding their bloodline.
Even
her mother was beneath the Hughie Fal Grand Cemetery.
She had gone mad, but she was not dead.
The girl looked at her father in the painting. His gaze was deep and kind, but knowing that he was merely asleep now, Triss did not feel overwhelming grief in her heart.
She merely used gentle, unhurried movements to carefully hang the headmaster's robe beside the coat rack. Its hem swayed faintly, as though recounting the busyness of the day.
And at that moment,
through the window,
she could see the new students outside gathered in twos and threes, either excitedly sharing what they had seen at the ceremony,
or eagerly discussing their future studies and lives at the academy. Their laughter drifted continuously inside.
Yet Triss in the room seemed utterly out of place amid that lively scene.
She only felt especially lonely.
That loneliness did not come from being alone, but from an indescribable emptiness rising from the depths of her heart.
For some reason,
Triss suddenly recalled the time her father and mother, before she had fallen into madness, had taken her to the Faroe