The Cornflower Witch

The Great Serpent, the serpent that carries the world, dragged its long-dead body forward.

The continent rose and fell slowly with the serpent's body, billions of living beings swaying amidst the sea of clouds.

When it descended once more, the boundless cloudsea crashed against it like a giant wall, pouring down freezing rain and howling with furious gales.

...

Fourth Continent, eighth year of the Wind Season. The northern sky was battered by freezing rain, frost spreading for miles, a canopy of clouds advancing like a wall, swallowing countless towns and nations. Roads were severed, icicles blossomed across the land, and winter beasts roamed the wild.

After killing the Hermit Spider, Sylutia returned to Tetis College.

One afternoon, while she was in the backyard playing with the Shadow-Walking Beast using a homemade Featherball, the sky suddenly darkened. The heavy, dark clouds pressed down like a solemn seal, driving back the sunlight. Only a faint glow lingered at the far edge of the sky, illuminating this pitch-black world.

A cold wind carrying moisture blew past. Even though it hadn't started raining yet, Sylutia could already feel the terrible storm approaching.

She called the Shadow-Walking Beast back inside, tidied up the backyard, then shut the windows. When she finally tried to close the door as well, a violent gale swept down, nearly lifting her entire body off the ground. Items inside the room were swept up by the strong wind, crashing into each other with clattering noises.

Straining with effort, the Shadow-Walking Beast charged forward from behind and pressed against the door. Only then did Sylutia manage to shut it, latching the crossbar in place.

She finally caught her breath. Through the trembling, rattling window, she looked outside. Beneath the dim sky, smaller trees and debris were already being swept up by the gale, tumbling through the air. Objects rolled everywhere. Some apprentices clung desperately to roadside trees, resisting the wind, then seized a moment to cast a spell, barely managing to construct iron cages to anchor themselves in place.

Three days later, the storm began to weaken. The students of Tetis College were all summoned to the central hall.

Outside, the gale still howled without end. Large raindrops occasionally rushed into the hall, striking faces and arms with a faint sting.

The school's instructors were organizing order on-site. Several professors paced back and forth in a corner, anxiously discussing the situation.

At ten in the morning, the assembly was roughly complete. Vekos stepped up to the podium, his gaze sweeping across the room. A sharp mental wave washed over the entire hall, quickly silencing the clamor.

"The matter is sudden, so I've gathered you all," he began briefly, then continued.

"This time, the entire Mage Alliance is facing a catastrophic windstorm unseen in a thousand years, along with various accompanying disasters and dangers. You are fortunate—as long as you stay in the academy and don't go out recklessly, you'll be safe."

"Starting today, the academy will implement special management measures. All apprentices must not go out without permission. If any of you hold external duties, you must first apply for review and approval before traveling."

"Due to the windstorm's impact, the connection between the continent and the Shadow World is currently unstable. Many teleportation facilities have failed in the storm, so I advise you not to enter the Shadow World during this time."

"This isn't just for you. The Tetis District, along with many regions of the Mage Alliance, will also enforce special management regulations. As elites of the 'Mithril Clock' school, you must be prepared. In the coming period, tasks may be assigned to you at any time."

After that, Professor Vekos went over a few more matters, then announced the dismissal, letting the apprentices return to their campus residences.

Sylutia was about to leave as well, but someone informed her that she and several other Chiefs were to stay behind.

Afterward, they were led to a lounge behind the hall. There, Professor Vekos and several instructors were already discussing matters.

"Traffic has been cut off in sixty-two northern nations. Even Arrow-Tracking Birds can't cross the gale and rain curtain."

"Aside from most regions and nations in the south, roughly forty percent of the Alliance's territories are affected by this disaster. Troublesome news is coming in from everywhere."

"Especially in the northern regions—the wilderness roads are covered in ice spikes, rail tracks are broken in many places, and supplies and personnel can hardly be transported."

"The grain that was expected to be harvested is now completely lost. A large number of people have gone missing in the gale, and some remote villages have simply vanished."

"The situation is very bad. We don't even know if this is just the beginning, or if even more severe conditions are yet to come."

"Have Their Majesties sent any messages?" one instructor couldn't help but ask.

"The three of them aren't omnipotent. They aren't Hours yet, after all—they can't predict every situation." Several professors shook their heads.

"If only we had the protection of an Hour..." The speaker trailed off mid-sentence, not continuing, merely shaking his head in regret.

If it were an empire or kingdom sheltered by an Hour, they could often receive some warning and guidance before a great disaster struck, preventing excessively severe losses. But unfortunately, the nations and organizations on the Fourth Continent were not among those.

As a continent once under the protection of the Silver Moon Dragon, after the last generation's battle for the position of Luminous Moon Hour concluded, the new Hour—the Fantasy Black Rabbit—had not fulfilled its duties. Instead, it chose to retreat into slumber, entrusting part of its authority to the Fairy Monarchs.

The people of the Fourth Continent had long grown accustomed to this. Sometimes, they even found it agreeable—without the interference of an Hour, the faith on this continent was quite free, with little in the way of restrictions or constraints.

But things were a double-edged sword. Without the protection of an Hour, when sudden calamities struck the Fourth Continent, its various organizations had to deal with them on their own.

Seeing everyone assembled, the professors and instructors stopped their discussion and began instructing the Chiefs present on some matters.

"You are all the outstanding members of each class. Normally, you assist in managing the apprentices, handling conflicts and solving problems. Now, we also entrust you to help the academy with management. In the coming period, you must regularly check personnel, confirm the whereabouts of students on campus, and report any unusual situations promptly."

"Understood." Everyone nodded.

The professors went over a few more things and gave each Chief a communication Orb before letting them leave.

As Sylutia walked out of the central hall, the rain had stopped, but the air was still cold and sharp.

She looked up at the gray canopy of sky overhead. Streaks of cloud, varying in lightness and darkness, raced swiftly across the sky. The mighty gale lifted her clothes and hair, sending them fluttering endlessly.

Compared to that boundless gray sky, the city and buildings below were like tiny specks on a table, ready to be swept away at any moment.

In the vast and mighty changes between heaven and earth, this continent and the creatures upon it remained utterly insignificant. It was just that the peaceful days of ordinary life had gradually made people forget this. And then, one day, when the sky suddenly tore away its gentle mask, they realized just how small and hopeless they truly were.