Selene

As he breathed his last, his soul seemed to linger, waiting to depart for a world far removed from the one he had known. In that same moment, far away, the sound of a crying baby pierced the air, heralding a new life

"Look, darling, it's a baby girl," Rayan whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. "She's perfect—just like you". He spoke to his wife, who lay exhausted, her breath labored after the ordeal of childbirth.

the midwife who helped the woman deliver her child earlier kept looking at the scene with tenderness, Her smile faltered as she noticed the blood—too much blood. She had seen this before, and her heart sank. She pressed a clean cloth against the wound, her hands steady but her mind racing. "Stay with us," she murmured under her breath, though she knew the odds were grim.

" show me my little girl rayan , i want to hold her" said the mother her breath labored getting weaker. 

"what do you think we should name her ?" she added after taking hold of her fragile framed girl.

she caught glimpse of sun setting and the moon hazy form in the orange sky.

"Ah, I see it's dusk already," she whispered, her voice barely audible. Her eyes lingered on the horizon, where the sun kissed the moon. "Selene... my beautiful girl... Selene." She smiled weakly, as if she knew this would be her only gift to her daughter—a name, a memory, a piece of her soul.

Suddently the mother's started caughing, which made the midwife hurry taking the baby from her arms giving her to the father and urging him to step aside.

Rayan's heart pounded as he clutched his newborn daughter, his eyes darting between her tiny face and his wife's fading one. He wanted to scream, to demand answers, to stop time itself. But all he could do was stand there, frozen, as the midwife worked frantically. When the lone tear slid down his wife's cheek, he felt his world shatter.

Her lips moved faintly, forming the name she had just given her daughter—Selene. But no sound came. Her hand, which had been clutching Rayan's, went limp. The room fell silent, save for the soft cries of the newborn, as if the baby already knew her mother was gone.

Time passed, and Selene grew up with her father in a small house on the outskirts of a vast forest. Rayan worked as a lumberjack for the nearby town, venturing deep into the woods each day to meet his daily quota. He would often hire a woman to care for Selene while he was away, returning in the evening with whatever he managed to gather before darkness fell.

Working as a lumberjack was perilous. The forest was fraught with dangers—beasts and creatures of unknown origins lurked within, existing solely to wreak havoc on the weak and unsuspecting inhabitants of the world.

A few years passed, and Selene was now four years old. She was exceptionally calm and polite for a child, traits that often surprised those around her. Her father was particularly astonished when she began walking at just seven months. A few months later, she uttered her first word, shocking her nanny when she clearly said, "Forest." She repeated it several times until nightfall.

Her obsidian-black hair cascaded down to her waist, with soft bangs framing her forehead. Her deep, black eyes seemed to absorb light, giving them an almost otherworldly depth. Her skin was as pale as snow, contrasted by the rosy hue of her cheeks. Standing nearly a meter tall, she carried an air of delicate yet striking beauty.

On her 4th year birthday , while she was waiting for rayan by the window looking at the forest like usual, a masacare was happening on the road leading to the city where the viscount's estate was located.

A carriage of noble origin was ambushed by a group of women with long, flowing hair—some black, some blonde. Their faces were concealed behind black veils, obscuring their features, and they wore black robes that fell between their knees and ankles, At first glance, the robes appeared modest, covering their bodies from their necks to below their knees. However, upon closer inspection, one would notice that the fabric was nearly transparent, revealing that the women wore nothing beneath them. Their attire was paired with black high-heeled boots, and their fingertips were blackened, tendrils of dark smoke curling ominously from them. They whispered in an incomprehensible language, and as if on cue, thick, gnarled tree roots erupted from the ground, surging toward a man who stood calmly in their midst. His gaze remained steady, unflinching.

With a flick of his finger, fire erupted from his body, reducing the roots to ash. Out of nowhere, a staff with a red gem that glinted under the moonlight materialized in his hand. He raised it and struck the ground with such force that it cracked like shattered glass. Suddenly, embers began to rise from the fissures, and the ground beneath them exploded as if a volcano had erupted.

The women were taken aback. They had come expecting to overwhelm their target, believing that even as the weakest of the witch race, their combined strength would be enough to defeat a lone magus viscount. Yet, after nearly an hour of fighting, they had exhausted their mana cores. Even their water elemental spells proved ineffective against this fire magus. It was as if his reserves were infinite.

Cursing, one of the witches spat, "Damn it! Even alone, he's still such a pain. Why did they send only five of us against a monster like this?" She glanced around, taking in the carriage and the soldiers—or what remained of them. Their bodies were sunken and butchered, drained of life by the roots of dead trees the witches had used to turn them into little more than husks. The witches had siphoned their blood to replenish some of the mana they had expended in the attack.

While the others engaged the magus in a battle of attrition, one witch attempted to move stealthily, keeping her distance. The magus, however, remained composed, bombarding the witches with spells. Unlike them, he didn't need to whisper incantations.

With a mere thought, a phoenix-like bird made of fire materialized above his head, spewing torrents of flame that consumed their attacks—whether roots, elemental spells, or even non-elemental assaults like the banshee-like scream one witch unleashed. The four attacking witches were utterly outclassed. It was as if the fire devoured everything in its path.

Suddenly, the magus felt a searing pain in his back. He turned to see a panther-like beast snarling at him, its claws dripping with a green liquid. Just as the panther tried to retreat and regroup with the witches for another attack, the magus reacted swiftly.

He stomped the ground, his muscles straining as fire erupted from the soles of his feet, propelling him forward. He caught the panther by surprise, grabbing its head and tearing it from its body. Without hesitation, he ordered his flaming bird to reduce the corpse to ashes. As the body burned, it gradually transformed into that of a woman.

The magus sneered, "Fucking shapeshifters. At least learn to use your powers better before trying something like that."

Turning back to the witches, he maintained his intimidating gaze, though deep down, he knew time was running out. He recognized the green liquid now coursing through his veins—it was nectar from the Upas tree, a poison capable of clogging mana pathways and causing mana core infarction, a condition where mana ceases to flow, staining the core.

He could theoretically extract the poison by forcing his mana, but now was not the time. He was still facing four witches. Even if they were weaker than him, underestimating a witch was like stepping closer to a viper and assuming it wouldn't bite.