Millennium Witch

Book 3: Chapter 217: Electives

In the days that followed, Yvette Loxivia made frequent trips to the College of General Studies’ great library, combing through its books for any clue to the Divine Judgment War’s remains.She never again ran into the demonkin girl named Nixia, but at least regarding her main goal, she made a little headway, identifying several suspicious locations.

First was the Endless Sea in the far east. Deep within those waters roams the fabled “Sky-Veil Behemoth.” If a god-war were to take place, such a site would be ideal to keep mortals from being caught in the crossfire.

Next was the Bone-Helix Sea in the extreme north—a living forbidden zone of staggering peril. It is said to be haunted by the terrifying “Northern Sea Kraken,” as well as an intelligent race that worships it, known as sea demonkin.

Third was the deep snowfields, for the same reason: almost no human presence. Rumor has it that “Frost Wraiths” lurk in the depths—easy to link to polar aberrants left over from the Day of the End.

Lastly, certain ultra-ancient ruins. The Divine Judgment War was five hundred years ago; after so long, it would be normal for mortals to dig into the site as if it were just another ultra-ancient ruin.

But—

As she read further, Yvette found that the Great Western Ocean, the Abyssal Continent, and the southern seas where the Dragon Nation lies all have their own legends and mysteries. More crucially, after the Divine Judgment War ended, the True Gods may well have cleaned the battlefield, erasing traces mortals should not see—an enormous setback for any investigation.

She sighed inwardly. Would this end with nothing to show for it? Still, her journey in this other world had only just begun. There was plenty to do ahead; no need to rush.

Unlike Yvette’s calm, low-key life, Lucia’s days at the Battle Arts College were basically those of a campus star.

For starters, she was pretty. Back in Sanggren Village she’d been a bit sun-browned, but after a month in the City of Truth, her skin quickly turned fair. The Academy’s standard uniform didn’t hurt either: Western-style jacket with tie above, pleated skirt with puffy socks and little leather boots below—a five-hundred-year-old design still on the cutting edge of Eastern Continent fashion. It suited her perfectly. Wherever she went, she was the brightest, most youthful presence among the girls.

If that were all, fine—she’d just draw the boys’ eyes and the girls’ quiet envy. The key was that her strength was overwhelming. Even without using the witch’s version of her combat art—just the dad’s version—her swordcraft, honed under the witch lady’s tutelage, let her dominate sword class, even over geniuses ranked third or fourth among the freshmen like Regan and Parris. The instructor felt that aside from sloppy, nonstandard form, her power was already fully graduation-level.

As a result, she wasn’t merely pretty; she carried a brisk, dashing cool. Her popularity among the girls climbed as well.

That sounded great, and Lucia herself thought so at first. For the first few days, she’d come home after school, happily recount the day’s events to Yvette, and Yvette would sit quietly nearby, offering the occasional mild comment. Everything was harmonious.

Later, though, Lucia found that being popular wasn’t all upside.

First, the girls all wanted to be friends with her, and she never turned people away. With more friends came friction: in sword class group drills, girls started arguing over who got to partner with her, putting her in a tight spot.

Next, because she always ducked out right after school to buy groceries and get dinner ready for the witch lady, many new friends took issue.

In a new environment where no one knows anyone, everyone needs to build a social circle fast, or risk being shut out later. But Lucia kept skipping post-class hangouts and parties, clinging to that not-so-pretty old flame from the countryside. Who could stomach that?

And the girls at the Battle Arts College have their pride. It’s one thing to be a notch below a prodigy like Lucia—but who even is that Yvette? A country girl from the College of General Studies, bottom of the pecking order! It felt like a highborn losing out to a lowborn; of course there’d be resentment.

So that afternoon, after Lucia once again declined a new friend’s invitation, a pink-haired classmate snapped, “Lucia, aren’t you taking this a bit far? Is that Yvette girl really worth all this?”

What had just happened was this: Anya—one of the warmest to Lucia in recent days—planned to choose the same electives as Lucia, looking at the hot departments: the Elemental Sanctum, the Potion College, and the like.

And Lucia’s answer? She said she was choosing an elective from the College of General Studies—specifically, the Continental Humanities’ Mythology Studies!

Why? Because she wanted to take the same class as her old flame.

What a joke. Electives matter. You can audit top courses in other divisions; do well and you could carve out a side career as an Array Master, apothecary, or alchemist. Even auditing the Elemental Sanctum to go the mage–warrior dual path would be great, no?

And you’re burning such a precious chance on mythology? Even the churches wouldn’t care for that. In fact, doing that kind of research might look borderline blasphemous to them.

Faced with Anya’s accusatory tone, Lucia hesitated, then said regretfully, “Sorry, Anya. I’ve already decided—”

“No, I just want to know why. Are you her mom? You run home every day to wash her clothes and cook for her, and you’ll even pick your electives in her division?” Anya was having none of it.

This time, Lucia fell silent—until a black-haired, gray-eyed girl came over with a smile. “Alright, alright. The term just started. What’s the rush on electives? And that classmate’s name is Yvette, right? She hasn’t even set her electives yet. Why not ask what she thinks?”

That girl was this intake’s number two, Flami Frost—elegant in bearing, a touch warm on the surface and cool within. She always seemed to smile, but never approached anyone except Lucia, and she often declined others’ invitations.

“Oh—right, I haven’t asked Yvette. I’ll check with her.” Lucia blinked, then glanced at Anya, who huffed and dropped it. Lucia shot Flami a grateful look.

That said, she wasn’t optimistic.

Anya wanted the Elemental Sanctum or Verdant College to study elemental or nature magic.

Yvette—perhaps because she was already a fathomless mage—seemed uninterested in magic. More likely, she’d pick an elective within the College of General Studies to minimize commuting and easily meet credit requirements. A lazy person’s choice.

“I’m choosing Demonkin Studies!” Yvette declared from the sofa, her voice uncharacteristically loud—several decibels above her norm.

Why? Don’t ask. Someone was a bit late getting groceries and starting dinner. She was hungry—and applying subtle pressure to her cook.

Lucia missed that nuance, but sensed the witch lady had the tiniest mood. Not knowing the cause, she hurried to turn up the soup on the stove. “So you’re picking an elective within your own division?”

“Yes.” Hearing the flame roar higher, Yvette closed her eyes in satisfaction, returning to her usual calm with a drowsy edge.

“How about considering another division? Our Battle Arts College has plenty of easy, breezy courses—”

“What do you take me for.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t choose professional courses for ease. I serve my own aims,” Yvette said, eyes still closed.

“Aims?” Lucia’s heart tightened. The phrasing sounded suspiciously like some cultist hatching an evil scheme. Was Yvette here at the Academy of Truth as an undercover agent?

Which Eldritch God did she serve? And why help Lucia become so strong? Was this some kind of evaluation—to see if Lucia was worthy to become a god’s favored?

Was she going to end up a cultist too?

“What’s our organization’s objective?” After a long silence, Lucia ventured cautiously.

“What ‘our organization’?” Yvette sounded puzzled.

“N-no, I mean—can I help with anything?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Convinced she hadn’t yet earned the organization’s trust, Lucia felt a twinge of disappointment.

Dinner was vegetable-and-meat stew with seafood fried rice. After setting the food out, Lucia called to Yvette on the sofa to come eat. Mid-meal, she asked, “Can I enroll in the same elective as you?”

“What would you take it for?” Yvette asked, then lowered her head to eat in earnest.

“To—listen!” Lucia blurted, then clapped a hand over her mouth.

“You really want to know why?” On Yvette’s calm, emotionless face, the corners of her lips lifted, ever so slowly, into a half-smile.

“I—uh—to listen—” Lucia meant to deny it, but Yvette’s ordinary face had taken on a faintly wicked charm. Lucia found herself nodding. “Mm—”

“Actually, it’s because I found a very interesting girl in Demonkin Studies. I want to sit in and get a look.”

Whatever else Yvette said after that, Lucia didn’t catch a word. Her ears filtered out everything but “very interesting girl.”

She couldn’t name the feeling, only that a great crisis seemed to be creeping toward her, making her unreasonably anxious.

She didn’t know how long it took, but by the time Yvette had finished the seafood fried rice with the stew and gone back for seconds, Lucia had only picked at a few bites. She snapped out of it at last and blurted, “I—I’m taking that class too!”

“No,” Yvette said.

“What?” Lucia hadn’t heard clearly.

“I said no. Think about your life plan, then enroll,” Yvette replied unhurriedly.

Electives at the Academy of Truth aren’t hard; one class suffices to cover the credit requirement. But it depends on the class’s value. Some are pure credit-padding—like many humanities courses in the College of General Studies. Others are highly beneficial and even require joining a queue in advance to secure a spot.

And for the valuable ones, hitting the credit requirement can be quite difficult. It looks like you can take as many as you like, but in practice, most people can only complete one elective smoothly—that’s the limit.

So when choosing electives, you should start mapping your career path. Whether as support for your main profession or a fallback in life, it matters.

“But I haven’t figured out what I want to do—” Lucia muttered.

“Isn’t your idol the Wind Ranger?”

“Even as an adventurer, there are lots of tracks.”

“Then take your time. Decide first, then enroll—but not in the College of General Studies,” Yvette said, deadpan.

“Huh? What if I’m interested in its classes?”

“Don’t you dislike reading?”

“I suddenly love it.”

“Not allowed to love it.”

“If you really like it, I’ll teach you at home. Want a trial session? Remember to call me teacher.”

“Uh—uh… forget it. I’ll think about it.”

So, after dinner—Yvette shuffling to the window in her pink slippers to catch the evening breeze, Lucia hugging bowl and chopsticks to the sink—she washed and drifted into thought.

Career choice really is important. Whether a skills path like magic or alchemy, or a formal track like adventurer, merchant, or Academy lecturer—it all demanded serious consideration from a sixteen-year-old like her.

But what weighed on her most right now was that Yvette had chosen Demonkin Studies because of “a very interesting girl.”

Who was she? Why pick that girl’s class instead of the same one as me?

What was so interesting about her?

Lucia had no idea—and it showed on her face the entire next day, worry written plain as day.