I could have chosen any class, but I chose the most perverse one

At the last possible moment, Deedee Lang throws herself into the portal, narrowly escaping the attack of the Black Servant. The sound of metal slicing through the air still echoes in her ears, but it's quickly replaced by the roar of an endless darkness.

The environment around her shifts in an instant, and she finds herself in a circular corridor of distorted energy. Flickering lights flash like lightning cutting through the darkness, while her body feels as if it's being pulled downward.

She falls, weightless and disoriented, as if trapped in a never-ending vortex. The corridor seems infinite, yet time compresses into a single moment that stretches on forever.

Seasickness overtakes her body. Her stomach churns as she's hurled through space-time, unable to find any sense of direction or footing. It's not the first time she's crossed Sylthrenn's portal, but this time it's worse than before.

Her knees buckle, her body wracked with nausea as she fights with all her strength to keep from vomiting.
"Why... the fuck... do I always jump into these damned portals?" she thinks to herself, jaw clenched to endure the agony.

Finally, the darkness begins to dissipate, and the portal closes behind her with a muffled sound, cutting her off from the battle with the black knight. The sensation of falling stops abruptly, and she is spat out on the other side.

The landing is rough, though she manages to stay on her feet.

The world around her sways as if she's on a boat in the middle of a storm.

She sits down, hands pressed against her knees, trying to catch her breath. Her head spins, and the dizziness is nearly unbearable. She grabs her hair with both hands, trying to steady herself.

"Fuck… I hate space-time magic…" she mutters through clenched teeth.
Her eyes close for a moment, trying to block out the swirling sensation in her head.

It takes a few moments before her legs stop trembling and the dizziness in her head subsides.

She forces herself to open her eyes again, trying to focus on her surroundings.

Everything appears blurry at first, but gradually the world comes back into shape. She finds herself in the middle of a sea of rubble, with stones and dust scattered across the uneven ground.

These are the ruins of a minor temple. It looks like the aftermath of a catastrophic event, like a violent earthquake. A few intact columns tremble precariously under their own weight, while fragments of statues lie scattered like the victims of a battle.

She slowly pushes herself to her feet, looking around. Something in her shifts. Her mind awakens from its stupor.

Deedee takes a deep breath, trying to steady herself. The ground feels stable beneath her feet, but her mind is still foggy from the effects of the space-time travel. Now she needs to figure out where she is.

"Where the fuck was that fucking spider trying to go?" she mutters aloud.

It only takes a few seconds for her to realize she's not alone.

Loud noises among the debris put her on high alert. Her hunter's instinct kicks in immediately.

Her hand tightly grips her bow-sword.

Time seems to slow down as the detective activates her analytical mind, observing the scene unfolding before her eyes.

The blue-haired mage, Welze Juble, trembling and uncertain, stares at the approaching army of skeletons, unable to decide her next move. Behind her, Kanna Merfal and Luysia Camclair, two familiar faces, seem paralyzed by a dilemma.

Her friend Kanna is holding back Luysia, preventing the blonde from chasing one of the retreating enemies.

Deedee, still disoriented from the portal journey, tries to regain control of the situation.

The cop's gaze rises to the "sky", where a gigantic fireball dominates the horizon.

Nearby, floating in mid-air, is Tersiflare, the fire spirit summoned by Xiaikai. The mysterious pink-haired summoner is suspended in the air, enveloped in the blazing aura of her spirit. The power of the imminent attack is undeniable.

Deedee quickly scans the surroundings, trying to assess the terrain and the forces at play.

Then, her gaze falls on the horror advancing before her: an army of skeletons, a mass of moving bones marching menacingly toward her companions.

For a moment, terror grips her stomach. She has never seen so many undead, not even in her most dangerous dungeon adventures. The scale of this threat is almost unimaginable.

The thought that the enemies they've faced so far might not be the worst Queen Azherie has to offer hits her hard. And then, the horror becomes real when she sees the figure leading that skeletal army: the Lich.

A living nightmare, a necromancer so powerful he controls death itself.

"A fucking Lich!" she mutters to herself, clenching her fists.

Her breathing grows short.

She knows that facing a Lich in a conventional way is nearly impossible. These beings cannot simply be killed like regular enemies. They are immune to common weapons and most low-level magic.
Their power lies in their immortality, and their physical body is just a temporary shell.

How can you bring down a creature that defies death itself?

Deedee’s thoughts are suddenly interrupted by Xiaikai’s shout, a warning from above.

"Stay down!" Xiaikai yells firmly, as she rides atop Tersiflare.

The fire spirit stands majestically over the gigantic fireball, whose intense light makes the entire scene look like a burning sunrise.

The heat it radiates is suffocating, and Deedee can feel the pressure in the air shift as the fireball begins to rapidly descend toward the battlefield.

"I will pulverize the gate from which the skeletons emerge, the army, and the two Servants in one fell swoop," Xiaikai declares with confidence, as her spirit executes the commands.

The policewoman feels her green hair stir in the current of air generated by the heat of the fireball. Instinctively, she raises her arm in front of her to shield herself from the scorching wind and the dust being kicked up, but she doesn’t take her eyes off the battle unfolding before her.

Her gaze locks onto the figure near the Lich, the mysterious Servant dressed in black, who seems to be preparing to counter the incoming attack.

His dark silhouette stands against the fiery glow of the sphere.

With unnatural calm, the Servant raises his staff above his head, and the tip of the staff begins to glow with a brilliant, pulsating blue light. The contrast between the cold blue and the heat of the flame is almost surreal. His hands move in a fluid, precise dance, tracing intricate magical circles in the air.

Arcane energy circles form around him, intricate and complex, floating like living symbols.

Wizard-like movements, precise and fluid.
The woman can’t help but recognize them, having seen them many times before. The way he gracefully lifts his staff above his head, his fingers moving swiftly to create the magical circles—everything about him is familiar.

Every gesture, every symbol is filled with details that seem impossible, yet she knows it's entirely natural for him.

"N-no... it can’t be..." Deedee murmurs in disbelief. The words barely escape her lips.
Is she living a dream? A nightmare? Or worse, a hallucination from the past? It can't be real. But she can't ignore what’s in front of her.

She can't forget that magic. That particular magic—his trademark.

A cold grip tightens around her heart as the air grows increasingly frigid.

The contrast between the heat generated by Tersiflare's Blazing Star and the icy coldness summoned by Azherie’s servant is almost unbearable. The temperature plummets, and the air begins to crystallize.

Before the astonished eyes of Strauss Wagner's women, an ice sculpture begins to take shape, slow and majestic, like a blooming bud.

Its beauty is hypnotic, yet it hides a devastating power. The gigantic crystal rose rises, cold and menacing in its grandeur.

[NORTHERN ROSE]

It’s not just a spell. It’s a lethal work of art, an absolute defense that he had created for Deedee. She had been his inspiration for the creation of this unique magic, a symbol of their love and of the mage’s extraordinary talent.

"It's... him?" Deedee whispers, her voice breaking with emotion.

The Northern Rose isn’t just a defense. It greatly enhances the user’s ice magic, making them practically invincible against any attack.

The rose stands as a shield, protecting the Lich and his army of skeletons, even stopping Tersiflare's devastating fireball.

When the two forces collide, the arena is enveloped in a cloud of steam, which falls upon the onlookers like freezing rain. But it's not over: the water immediately freezes, transforming into ice needles that fall to the ground like daggers, ready to wound.

The ice needles fall suddenly, a myriad of thin, freezing shards piercing the air like tiny sharp blades. Each needle gleams in the reflected light, cold and lethal, as it plunges toward the ground with merciless speed.

The women don’t have time to fully shield themselves: Kanna, Luysia, and Welze are struck in several places, scratched and pierced by the icy rain. Each contact feels like a sharp sting, leaving marks on their skin and blood mixing with the frozen water falling around them. Only Xiaikai, still in the air, and Deedee, who stands further away, are spared from this torment.

Kanna grits her teeth, feeling the intense cold seep into her flesh. She screams in pain as a needle hits her arm, making her stagger.

Luysia, wounded but determined, tries to stand despite the pain. Her trembling hand covers a wound on her shoulder, where blood pours out.

Welze, her face contorted with agony, trembles as another ice needle pierces her leg.

From above, Xiaikai, shielded by her spirit's embrace, watches the situation with a tense expression.

Deedee remains still, paralyzed.

She can’t move, can’t think. Memories flood over her like an overwhelming wave.

That mage, that figure—he can't be real. And yet, it’s all right there, in front of her.

"K-Kanna..." Her voice catches in her throat.

But before she can do anything, Kanna, upon seeing that figure, screams: "Ivanhold!"

The scream is as if her friend is trying to awaken him from a trance, trying to make him realize that he's turning against them. A futile cry, a terrible realization that throws both Kanna and Deedee into despair.

The name echoes through the air, reverberating in the chaos of the ruined temple.
For a moment, everything seems to stop.

Even Ques, the Lich, ceases his laughter and watches the reactions of his enemies, a cruel smile spreading across his skeletal face. The horrid grin makes him even more unsettling.

"That foolish dwarf Eykad has missed this magnificent spectacle. This is the undeniable proof! This is true power!" Ques exclaims in his grotesque voice, proud of his macabre creation. "An immortal army, protected by the magic of an extraordinary individual."

Every word from the Lich feels like poison to Deedee.

She feels the world crumbling around her as the reality of what she's seeing becomes clearer.

Ivanhold... her Ivanhold... is no longer the man she had known. He’s no longer the man she had loved. Now, he is a puppet in Ques’s hands, a shadow of what he once was. Her mind knows it, but her heart refuses to accept it.

She just wants to hold him. One more time.

"To be invincible, beyond eternal life, one must possess all powers. I am beyond mere strength. Alone, one is nothing. That's why I continually expand my roster! This is true strength, using the power of others!" the Lich continues arrogantly. "I will make your corpses my slaves. This will be my tribute to your skills."

Ivanhold, or what remains of him, lowers his hood, revealing his face.

The short brown hair that Deedee knew so well now looks dull and lifeless, almost white. His skin is cadaverous, grayish, made even more unsettling by his eyes. Eyes that once shone with life and love are now an icy blue, devoid of any human emotion.

"Why did you remove your hood?" Ques asks, surprised. He hadn't ordered the mage to do so.

Deedee looks at that figure, her heart shattered, torn by contradiction.

"Ivanhold..." she murmurs, a tear escaping her eyes. Anger, confusion, and pain swirl together in a whirlwind of emotions.

It’s him—the winter mage.
The man she watched die before her very eyes.