Novel Full Chapter 1207: Felicity’s Path
Chapter 1207: Felicity’s Path
As Quinlan’s visage materialized and his otherworldly elemental resonance was put on full display, Felicity’s lips parted in awe.
Compared to this man, even the adult Morgana, the terrifying prodigy she had grown up idolizing, felt oh-so painfully human.
Yes, Morgana was stronger.
Older.
More experienced.
But Quinlan…
Quinlan was something else entirely.
He didn’t command the elements. They belonged to him.
Felicity’s eyes softened, stars glimmering within them.
Then she turned her gaze toward her mother, the figure of unmatched brilliance she had been chasing for far too long.
And in that moment, she understood.
’Why am I even trying to surpass her?’
Quinlan is the greatest mage to ever live. Soon, he’ll outshine even her. He’ll reach heights no one, not Morgana, not even the gods themselves, could ever match.
“What am I doing…?” she whispered.
If she succeeded here, if she passed this trial, if she became a great mage…
She would still only ever be a worse version of him.
A cheap imitation.
A sad, budget version of Quinlan Elysiar.
The thought burned through her, sharp and cruel. But it also freed her.
Slowly, Felicity rose to her feet.
The air felt lighter.
Her gaze shifted from Morgana to the illusory Quinlan, and then back to herself.
“… I’ve been wrong all this time,” she murmured.
Her grip tightened around her wand.
“I don’t need to surpass you as an elemental mage, Mother.”
Her voice grew steady.
“I’ll surpass you as a being.”
The trial trembled in response. Reality itself recognized the shift in her heart.
The world shattered like glass.
The replay of Morgana’s past fractured into countless motes of light that dissolved into nothing.
Then, silence.
Felicity stood once again in that endless whiteness, the same void where her trial began. But this time, she wasn’t alone.
Morgana stood before her. Not the child, nor the queen. This one was timeless. Eternal. A manifestation of everything the Witch Queen had ever been. Beauty, intellect, cruelty, and perfection distilled into one impossible form.
Her wand rose.
No words.
No hesitation.
A fireball the size of a house bloomed in her palm. Felicity didn’t even have time to blink.
Flames consumed her whole.
Pain. Then, nothing.
Darkness swallowed her, then spat her back out into the same empty field.
Her body reformed. Her lungs filled with air.
And Felicity laughed.
Quietly at first, then louder.
“So this is how it is, huh?”
Her smile curved wide. “A trial by death.”
The next fireball came faster. She sidestepped, but it still tore through her torso.
Death.
Respawn.
Fire, wind, lightning… the barrage never stopped. Morgana moved like a storm of equations given life, every spell layered atop another in perfect rhythm.
Felicity couldn’t win.
So she stopped trying to.
Instead, she watched.
Every flick of the wrist. Every twitch of a finger.
The rhythm of breath. The ripple of mana. The collapse and reform of particles at the moment of ignition.
She began tracing them with her eyes.
Fire was not destruction. It was acceleration.
Wind was not chaos. It was pressure.
Water was not flow. It was memory.
Earth was not endurance. It was structure.
Each time she died, her understanding deepened.
Each time she respawned, her movements grew smaller, cleaner, quieter.
Her deaths became less about defeat and more about refinement.
By the fiftieth death, she could finally see it.
The way spells were born.
Every fireball Morgana cast began as a spiral. Mana condensing, folding, locking into patterns, then igniting into the visible world. Felicity’s eyes began to catch the rhythm.
By the hundredth death, she moved in time with it.
Her wand flicked. Not to destroy, but to touch the pattern, just barely. The fireball wavered for the briefest heartbeat before crashing into her chest and blowing her apart again.
But that instant… that tiny flicker of hesitation in the flame… it meant something.
She was learning.
By the one hundred and fiftieth, her wand no longer trembled when she faced the fire.
She breathed in – out – and flicked again, her motion cleaner this time, more precise.
The fireball struck… but weaker. The explosion didn’t scatter her across the void anymore. It only seared her arms and legs before darkness took her again.
By the two hundredth, she survived the first.
By the three hundredth, the second.
By the four hundredth…
She understood.
She was never meant to wield the elements.
She was born to erase them.
The elements refused to obey her – not because she lacked affinity, but because she naturally unmade them.
Her soul rejected elemental order.
Where other mages sought to channel mana, shape it, give it form, Felicity’s instincts reached for the opposite. She dismantled it. Her mana didn’t blend; it dissected. It tore away the scaffolding that allowed magic to exist.
It was subtle at first, an unconscious defense mechanism, the body’s reaction to forces it couldn’t command. But the more she died, the more she refined it. The act of watching, dying, and returning honed the impulse into will.
And when she finally raised her wand one last time, the difference was immediate.
There was no flare, no chant, no dramatic surge of mana.
Just quiet.
The incoming fireball reached halfway, then folded in on itself with its flame consumed, its mana stripped bare until nothing remained.
Silence followed. A silence so deep even the void seemed to hesitate.
Felicity stood unburned, surrounded by fragments of ash that had never truly existed.
A slow smile touched her lips.
“…I see now.”
The Princess of Ravenshade had no gift for the elements.
But she possessed something rarer: the ability to erase them.
Her gift wasn’t creation.
It was nullification.
A born counter to magic itself.
And then the voice came.
[Ding!]
[Trial of Dominion Conquered.]
[You have chosen silence over inheritance.]
[Class Evolved: Nullmage.]
[In stillness, even the gods lose their voices.]
Felicity stood there for a moment, staring.
Then, immense warmth spread through her chest.
She closed her eyes and bowed low with her wand pressed tightly to her heart.
“Thank you for this lesson,” she whispered. “You’ve changed my life.”
Ever the well-mannered girl, she voiced her gratitude even when she wasn’t certain to whom she should address it.