Chapter 83: The Origin of Magic

Winter gradually woke from her daze and slowly opened her eyes.

"Where is this place?" she muttered, rubbing her head as memories of the fall flooded back. "Oh, right! I fell into a cave!"

She glanced around, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. The cavern walls were lined with solid rock and compacted soil, enclosing her in a narrow, dark space. The only source of light was a faint glow emanating from deeper within the cave.

"Now that I think about it," Winter mused aloud, "this mountain seemed too simple to only have three passages and a couple of ice rooms. Could this be inside the mountain—or underneath it?"

She shook her head and sighed. "Lucky I didn't fall to my death!"

Steeling herself, she stood and brushed the dust off her clothes. Her gaze locked onto the glowing cave entrance. As she took a hesitant step toward it, a strange voice resonated in her mind:

"Come here, my child."

The voice was soft and motherly, filling her with an inexplicable sense of calm. Something deep within her soul responded instinctively, compelling her forward.

Winter followed the call, stepping cautiously into the cave. As she crossed the threshold, the space opened into a massive ice room illuminated by countless shimmering magic crystals embedded in the walls. The brightness was almost blinding, casting the room in a cold, ethereal light.

At the center of the room stood an enormous ice coffin, carved with intricate runes. Inside lay two women, identical in appearance save for their contrasting garments—one dressed in pure white, the other in jet black.

Winter approached the coffin, staring in awe. Though the women had clearly been dead for centuries, their appearances were pristine, preserved as if frozen in time.

"The Black and White Goddess?" Winter whispered, recalling the tale Kira had shared in the tavern.

"It seems you already know who we are," a sharp but melodic voice echoed in her mind, distinct from the gentle tone that had spoken before.

Winter froze, glancing around the empty chamber. "Who's there?" she demanded.

"Do not fear, child," said the softer voice. "We are speaking to you. You carry our blood within your veins."

"My blood?" Winter asked, her heart racing. "You mean... the Isisnew clan?"

"Indeed," the sharper voice confirmed. "We are not gods ourselves, but we are their children. We existed to guide and protect, but our time in the mortal realm has long since ended."

Before Winter could respond, a wave of energy swept over her. The chamber blurred and dissolved, plunging her into a vivid series of memories—visions of an ancient past, where the origins of magic were revealed.

In the beginning, there were the gods—a race of beings blessed by the heavens, wielding power beyond comprehension.

The gods lived harmoniously with humans, often walking among them. Humans revered them as divine protectors and sought their guidance.

"I don't know why humans always ask how we use magic," one god mused, lounging in a radiant palace. "It's not something we learned—it's simply part of us!"

"Humans are so curious," another laughed. "If they could wield magic, their lives would surely improve. Too bad it's impossible!"

Yet, over time, bonds formed between gods and humans. As love blossomed, their unions produced children—half-human, half-divine beings who inherited the gods' magical abilities. These children, the first magicians, marked the dawn of a new era.

"Have you heard the news?" one god whispered. "A child born of a god and a human can use magic!"

"It's incredible," another marveled. "Perhaps humans are capable of more than we thought."

Word spread quickly. Humans, eager to unlock the mysteries of magic, sought the favor of the gods, hoping their offspring would inherit these wondrous powers.

"Imagine! My child could be a wizard!" a villager exclaimed.

"Don't be ridiculous," a neighbor retorted. "Why would a god choose you?"

The gods, captivated by humanity's ambition and determination, continued to unite with them, and the age of magic flourished.

But not all beings welcomed this era. From the shadows emerged a new race—demons.

Born of chaos, demons were driven by an insatiable hatred for the gods and their creations. They possessed powers rivaling the gods themselves, and their arrival plunged the world into turmoil.

"Demon? What's that?" humans whispered fearfully.

"They're like gods," someone explained, "but cruel and destructive."

Tensions escalated into open conflict. Gods and humans joined forces against the demons, but the battles were fierce and unrelenting.

"Where do these demons come from?" a god lamented after another costly victory. "Their numbers seem endless!"

"They've even turned some humans against us," another added grimly.

The demons exploited humanity's darker instincts—greed, envy, and despair—tempting those disillusioned with promises of power.

"If the gods truly cared," the demons whispered, "would they let your family suffer?"

Corrupted by these whispers, some humans betrayed the gods, seeking power through unholy means.

"As long as you become a demon, you can gain unimaginable strength," the demons promised. "Or better yet... kill a god and take their power for yourself."

The betrayal of the gods led to the creation of a new form of magic: God-Slaying Magic.

By killing a god, humans could absorb their power, transforming themselves into beings capable of rivaling even the mightiest deities.

"Traitors!" a god cried. "Humans who once revered us now turn their blades against us!"

The gods, enraged by this betrayal, severed all ties with humanity, forbidding any further unions between their races. But it was too late—the knowledge of god-slaying magic had spread, and humanity no longer needed the gods to rise to power.

"We are the new gods!" proclaimed a human warrior, his blade still stained with divine blood.

Winter snapped back to reality, gasping for air. She looked at the two figures in the ice coffin with newfound understanding.

"You... you were part of this war," she whispered.

"Indeed," the softer voice replied. "Our deaths marked the end of an era, but also the birth of a new one."

"You carry our legacy," the sharper voice added. "But the question remains—how will you use it?"

Winter stared at the ice coffin, her resolve hardening. "I'll use it to protect my family and end the cycle of destruction."

The voices faded, leaving Winter alone in the glowing chamber. But she was no longer afraid. Instead, she felt a newfound strength surging through her veins—a gift from her ancestors.

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