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A female mage tried to explain, but the crowd, ruled by anger and fear, refused to accept that it had been an accident. Some recalled ugly rumors about arcanists: that they consorted with demons and studied the powers of death and darkness. Others summoned divine casters and begged them to purify the evil.

No one knew what happened afterward. Pearl City on the Whisperwind Plain was razed to the ground overnight, with only scattered white bones proving it had endured a tide of undead. Not a single person in the entire city survived. The other nearby cities fell into panic, and people fled their homes one after another, terrified that one day they too would be swallowed by the dreadful undead.

Theodore Weston arrived at the Stormwind Plains on the twelfth day after the Emerald Fall Incident. The area around Emerald City had become a complete wasteland, and the undead's distinctive cold, gloomy aura still lingered in the air. In other cities, divine casters had become the most sought-after profession. Churches were packed nearly every day, and even exorcising holy water and prayer implements of doubtful authenticity were frantically snapped up.

Meanwhile, Arcane casters other than divine casters became targets of public disgust. Merchants refused to serve them, and innkeepers would not let an arcanist stay in their establishments. Theodore was deeply worried for the future of the Arcane, and his instincts told him there had to be a hidden secret behind all this.

He ventured deep into Emerald City. The once-gentle breeze of the Whisperwind Plain had become a shrill, mournful howl here, and amid the ruins, he found a severely damaged diary.

The diary was bound entirely in parchment, and delicate patterns could still faintly be seen on its cover. Half the signature had been burned away, leaving behind only the name Darren.

Theodore knew of only one Darren. He too was a Spell Saint, older than Theodore but having entered the Saint tier earlier. This Spell Saint, Fidas Darren, loved traveling the continent. The last news of him had come twelve years ago, when he bought an expensive rose-shaped storage ring and a large quantity of magical rose petals in Alchemy City. Mages widely rumored that he was going to propose to his lover.

The diary was incomplete, and Theodore could only do his best to piece together the full story.

"Oh, heavens. She agreed... The wedding will be set for... We will live happily together forever."

"Susan made cream soup again today. I don't think I could ever grow tired of her soup."

"Oh, heavens, Susan went to church again. I really don't understand how... praying to the goddess of light can produce bread and milk?... God of Truth above, are divine casters always so stubborn? But setting aside matters of faith, Susan could not possibly be gentler. I would wager there is no one in the world gentler than her."

Many of the following pages contained similar accounts of daily life, and Darren's deep love shone through every line.

"...Susan is pregnant! I'm going to have a child! Heavens, I don't know how to express my surprise and joy. Perhaps I should go to Pandor to buy some things for my future child?... People from the church are always coming to see Susan. I really want to cast a freezing spell on them. Could they stop bothering my pregnant wife? She needs a quiet environment to recuperate..."

"Susan has disappeared. No, she will come back. I cannot panic. I cannot lose my mind."

"...Susan, my Susan... Those bastards, I..."

"I won't give up. She is only asleep. Just asleep. I will pull her back from Death's embrace, and my child too. I will find a way."

"I think I found a way. Undead... breaking through the boundary between life and death... risks..."

The following entries were less a diary than a Spell Saint's magical notes. The pages that had not yet burned were densely filled with everything concerning the preservation of souls and the resurrection of the dead.

Theodore put away the diary and looked over the ravaged Emerald City, letting out a heavy sigh.

Undead magic... a forbidden field. Yet who had caused all this? Who had driven a Spell Saint to walk in the shadows at all costs? Was it his mad love, or another's deliberate persecution?

The mournful wind howled like the shrieks of the undead, speaking of unwillingness and rage, speaking of attachments from before death that refused to fade.

The Holy See began taking the opportunity to spread rumors that arcanists controlled the undead and wielded curses. Theodore decided to head north, to Pandor, and seek the aid of a magical item.

He did not believe destruction and ruin had been Darren's true intent. If they had been, Emerald West City would not have had the chance to react in advance, nor would his disciples and other mages familiar with him have activated the prearranged magic arrays to intercept the undead army the moment it surged forth.

Theodore traveled north. Faced with increasingly vicious rumors and the undercurrents stirring among arcanists themselves, he sent word back to the Empire and secretly issued a notice through the mage towers across the continent: arcanists had to be prepared and remain vigilant for the outbreak of war at all times. He sensed that no matter how hard they tried to prevent it, that day would still come.

At the end of the Saint Lorenzo Mountains, north of the Grans Mountains barrier, lay a world of ice and snow, a land guarded by the northern Snow Family for generations.

Alchemy City Pandor floated above the northern corner of Ice Lake, backed by Cedar Forest. It was so enormous that its shadow could cover nearly half the lake's surface. Legend said Pandor had existed since the age of the Old Gods. It had been a mobile fortress of the gods, possessing wealth and treasures beyond human imagination. Pandor's superb alchemical technology today was a legacy left behind by the gods.

Theodore had also attended Pandor's alchemical symposiums. They had truly been fascinating gatherings, bustling with crowds. But now, outside the assembly period, the frozen north lacked that lively atmosphere. Vast emptiness and loneliness swept in with the wind and snow, as though the gods were gazing through endless ages, watching the past and the future.

It was then that Theodore saw her.

The girl on the dragon's back had long hair the same color as ice and snow. The hem of her fiery red dress fluttered in the cold wind as she held a staff and surveyed her domain. The golden bell at the end of the silver dragon's tail rang with a clear, ethereal chime.

Lucia—the only daughter of this generation's Duke of White Snow and the Snow Family's future ruler. She saw Theodore as well. As the youngest Spell Saint in five hundred years and a fellow Arcane caster, Lucia held immense interest in the new emperor of the Itarigis Empire.