Millennium Witch

Book 3: Chapter 225: The Evernight Conclave

With the sudden appearance of the chestnut-haired girl, the battle against the infected flipped fast. She seemed adept at knocking people out with just the right force. While other infected were locked in stalemates with Disciplinary Committee members, she ghosted in from behind, swift as the wind, dropping one after another to the floor and giving their entangled teammates room to support each other.So even before any supervisors arrived, the dozens of infected were brought under control—either knocked out or restrained—no longer a threat to those present or to the survivors shivering in the corners.

“Classmate, just who are—” Aubranche, one of the two squad leaders, came over, shock and doubt written on his face. His gaze flicked to the badge on her chest denoting a first-year at the College of General Studies, and his brows rose—this heaven-sent rescuer was actually a freshman?

He hadn’t even processed what was happening before the fight had gone from stalemate to one-sided rout!

“This is Yvette Loxivia, College of General Studies,” Palea came over and gave a brief introduction, her own look at the chestnut-haired girl tinged with the same astonishment.

In the fight just now, Yvette hadn’t displayed any particular realm or overwhelming combat art—she had changed the situation on the strength of top-tier technique. That exquisite control of force, and those actions—surgically calm, precise, repeated without a single error—were more than enough to feel unfathomable. It was hard not to suspect this chestnut-haired girl had some unusual background or lineage.

She really was the perfect fit for the Disciplinary Committee! Palea once again affirmed the judgment she’d made long ago.

The two squad leaders then offered Yvette formal thanks. There had been dozens of infected on site: in addition to many ordinary people driven berserk, more than ten were adventurers or current students. Without her help, the Committee and police might well have suffered casualties.

Meanwhile, Lucia jogged to Anya’s side. “Anya, are you okay?” she asked, worried.

She had nearly thought Anya was going to die—and it had scared her half to death.

“I’m fine.” Anya shook her head, then wore a somewhat complicated expression and looked at Yvette’s back.

Noticing her gaze, Lucia felt this was a chance to improve Yvette’s image in Anya’s mind. She quickly put on a still-shaken look and said, “That was really close—good thing Yvette showed up!”

“Mm. Without her I’d be dead.” Anya gave a small nod, lifted a hand to smooth the pink fringe on her forehead, and exhaled. A moment ago she had no doubt Yvette was a terrifying witch, with a pinch of resentment mixed in—but being saved by that witch now left her feelings much more complicated.

She thought that what had just happened really did feel like a scene from a romance novel: no prince on a white horse, and the appearance was plain enough, but credit where due—it was a little cool. Maybe she wasn’t as evil as Anya had imagined? If she were truly bad, there would have been no need to save her; it would’ve been perfectly reasonable to leave one fewer person who knew her secret in the world.

With no supervising teachers yet on the scene, the Committee squad leaders and the station chief were the highest authority here.

After confirming no toxic mist remained in the air, Palea called the officers down to help carry the many unconscious or injured to the hospital.

Another Committee member, Aubranche Deck, began using healing magic to treat the wounded.

As he worked, he spoke to Yvette: “Junior, with skills like yours, have you considered joining the Disciplinary Committee? I think you’d be a great fit for our squad!”

He didn’t even wait for Yvette’s answer before glancing at her General Studies badge again. “—And why did you pick the College of General Studies? Feels like a waste of your talent. How about joining our Verdant College? I can talk to the registrar for you. We mainly teach healing magic, sure, but as everyone knows, a Nature mage who can’t fight isn’t a good priest! Come to our college, learn healing, and you’ll be a well-rounded ‘hex build’—fighting while topping yourself off—”

He rattled on without pause, clearly impressed by Yvette’s prowess. Palea, who’d gone up to call the police down, caught the drift from afar and came bustling back in a hurry. “Hey, Aubranche, Loxivia is an important partner to our squad—what do you think you’re doing?”

“She’s not even on the Committee—don’t make it sound like I’m poaching.” Aubranche shot Palea an annoyed look, then turned back to Yvette with an eager smile. “Well? Think it over, junior?”

“No, thanks. I just want to be a civic‑minded citizen,” Yvette said, declining politely.

“I see.” Aubranche looked regretful. “If you ever get interested in the Committee, you’re welcome anytime.”

Soon, with the remaining wrap-up handed off to the police, Yvette walked over to Lucia. She received Anya’s thanks, and Flami’s awed praise.

After that, the Committee members headed back together to the nearby District Nine 13th Branch. All the way, Yvette said little, simply listening as Palea, Aubranche, and the others traded notes—chewing over all the fresh particulars of the case.

First, it was beyond doubt that the Witch Cult’s signature toxic mist, the “Frenzy Toxin,” had been used. Whether the culprit was the number-one cultist, Bazel, remained up for debate—there was also a theory that Bazel wasn’t a master of disguise at all; instead, multiple Witch Cult members were lying low in the city, and similar methods had led everyone to suspect the same person.

As for the purpose of this incident, opinions varied widely.

Some felt the Witch Cult and the academy had a conflict of creed—after all, the Witch of the End was slain by the Legendary Mage. Others thought it was retaliation: a few years back, the Academy of Truth had launched targeted crackdowns on the Witch Cult and there was plenty of bad blood. Still others believed there was an unspeakable conspiracy behind Bazel’s actions, though the nature of it was unclear.

Once they reached the Committee branch and began logging the day’s observations, Yvette—under no obligation but still staying with Lucia—finally asked Palea, “What’s the Witch Cult’s internal structure like? Do they have heavy hitters?”

She had some interest in the Witch Cult mainly because their ultimate goal was reviving the Witch of the End. If she had the chance to meet their upper echelons, she might be able to coax out what method they used to resurrect the Witch—and whether it could apply to other fallen True Gods.

Failing that, killing these cultists would be only right. She didn’t care about those who worshiped other Eldritch Gods—no grudge there—but the Witch of the End was out of the question.

“Of course they do, but they’re very secretive. What I know is limited and all secondhand,” Palea said. “Inside the Witch Cult there’s an organization called the ‘Evernight Conclave.’ All of the Cult’s terror operations are planned by this Conclave. Its strongest figure is called the ‘Evernight Matron.’ Her strength is unknown, but to rank that high in the Cult, I doubt she’s below an Archmage; odds are not low that she’s a Saint Mage.”

“What’s a Saint Mage?” Anya asked. Her sense of the top of the mage path stopped at Archmage; to this day she thought Archmage and Greatsword Master were the end of the road. The academy’s curriculum never touched those heights.

“I’m not too sure either. Supposedly—supposedly they grasp a mysterious new ability, something called a ‘Domain,’” Palea said. “Once you master it, you become something entirely different from a traditional mage.”

A Domain?

Yvette almost immediately thought of that absolute darkness where she’d once been trapped by the Silvermirror Continent’s sovereign, the “Shadow King” Vermeis.

In Vermeis’s telling, that was the “Kingship” bestowed by the Witch of the End—was that, in practice, the special ability of a Saint Realm powerhouse?

Wouldn’t that mean that, as a mage with nothing but 24,000 mana to her name, if she ran into a Saint Realm foe, she’d be on the back foot at a systems level before their rule‑domain—maybe not even a match at all?

So it isn’t just True Gods who can threaten me. Yvette felt a little deflated, suddenly thinking that her titles—“Silver Witch,” “God of Serendipity,” and “Foundational Mentor”—had never felt so undeserved. If those who worshiped her found out she was just an Archmage with lots of mana, a deeper store of knowledge, and the ability to sprout a bunch of tentacles… would they be disappointed?