The interior of the Rose Pavilion looked much better than the outside.
Although the furniture was covered in white cloth and a faint smell of dust hung in the air, the overall structure was remarkably well preserved.
The tall dome, the winding wooden staircase, and the huge crystal chandelier all faintly hinted at the splendor of years past.
“Cough, cough.” Julius waved his hand and used holy light to disperse the dust floating in front of him. He let go of Helos’s hand. The sudden loss of warmth from his palm made Helos feel a momentary sense of loss.
Julius looked around and made a judgment. “It looks like we need to do some serious cleaning.”
“Gavi, go check the rooms on the second floor. Helos, you… just sit here and don’t move.” He pointed to the only sofa in the center of the hall that looked relatively clean. “I’ll open the windows to let some air in.”
“Why do I have to just sit!” Helos retorted instinctively, finally regaining some of her usual spirit. “I’m part of this place too! I want to help!”
“You?” Julius turned his head and looked at her with a half-smile.
“Are you sure? With your current constitution, if you accidentally break some antique with faint magical properties, or if you inhale too much dust and need to drink medicine…” Julius walked over and pressed her shoulders, pushing her down onto the sofa.
“Leave this kind of rough work to the men and… ahem, just leave it to me. Be good.” He almost slipped up and included Gavi in the “rough work labor force.” But thinking of Gavi’s terrifying monstrous strength, it didn’t seem wrong.
“Gavi, don’t exert yourself too much either,” Julius added another instruction.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Julius.” Gavi lifted her skirt and performed a perfect maid’s curtsy. “Cleaning is a maid’s duty. Work of this level is just a warm-up for me.” With that, she turned into a golden blur and rushed toward the second floor.
Watching the two of them immediately throw themselves into work, Helos pouted in frustration. She felt like a useless person.
But soon, her attention was drawn to something in the corner of the hall. It was a huge oil painting hanging on the wall. The frame was somewhat decayed, and a thick layer of dust covered the canvas, making it impossible to see what was depicted.
Yet for some reason, the moment Helos saw that painting, she felt an inexplicable pull. It was as if… the painting was calling out to her.
Taking advantage of Julius opening the windows, Helos stealthily stood up and tiptoed toward the painting.
She reached the painting and extended her hand to wipe away the dust. Just as her fingertips were about to touch the canvas, a chilling wind suddenly blew from deep in the corridor behind her.
“Whoosh—” The wind seemed to carry an extremely faint sigh of a woman. And… the wind was cold, bone-chillingly cold. Helos’s body instantly stiffened.
“Ugh…” She whirled around. Behind her was empty—only the furniture, now uncovered by white cloth, revealed eerie outlines in the shadows.
“Delusion?” Helos swallowed hard, forcing herself to be calm. She turned back and looked at the painting again. This time, she finally saw it clearly.
The painting depicted a woman in a white dress. She had her back to the viewer, standing amidst a cluster of blooming red roses. Although her face was not visible, that silhouette… that silhouette, that waterfall of long hair… It was… purple.
Pale purple hair, the exact same color as her own pupils. The originally blurry pale purple grew clearer under Helos’s gaze. It did not look like lifeless paint; instead, it shimmered with a luster like flowing moonlight.
Helos subconsciously held her breath. In that moment, she had an extremely absurd illusion. She felt that the back in the painting was not still. The woman seemed to be breathing.
Her waterfall-like pale purple hair moved without wind, gently brushing over her bloodstained white dress. An indescribable resonance made Helos’s fingers tremble uncontrollably.
She wanted to pull her hand back, wanted to turn and flee from this suffocating corner. But her feet seemed rooted to the spot.
Enchanted, Helos murmured, “So beautiful…”
Driven by an inexplicable impulse, she reached out again. This time, her fingertips passed through the thick dust and truly touched the cold canvas.
“Crackle—” The moment her fingertip made contact, a bone-piercing chill shot up her finger and into her marrow. It was not ordinary cold. It was a feeling of despair, as if plunged into a bottomless abyss, surrounded by endless nothingness.
The air around her solidified completely in that instant. The sounds of Julius wiping the windows on the other side of the hall and Gavi’s footsteps from the second floor all vanished. It was as if the whole world had been reduced to Helos and the huge oil painting before her.
“Who are you?” A cold, somewhat hoarse and arrogant female voice suddenly exploded in Helos’s ear. The voice did not come from the painting, but echoed directly in her mind, making her scalp tingle.
Helos jerked her hand back and looked around in panic. “Who?! Who’s talking?!”
“There’s no one else here,” the voice rang out again, with undisguised mockery. “Don’t look, fool. I’m right in front of you.”
Helos stiffly turned her head and looked at the painting again. The woman, who had originally had her back to her, had somehow turned around!
She was now facing Helos. Her face was pale, almost bloodless. Her features were cold and beautiful, and her eyes were like unsheathed daggers.
But there were no pupils in her narrow eyes—only a darkness that seemed to devour all light. And what terrified Helos the most was that the woman was not inside the painting.
One of her hands—pale white and slender—had already emerged from the canvas, hovering in midair as if trying to grab something.
“Aah—!!” Helos finally let out a short scream. She instinctively retreated, but her legs gave way and she sat down hard on the floor. “Ghost… there’s a ghost!!!” She wanted to cry out for help, wanted to shout Julius’s name. But she discovered in terror that her throat felt blocked, and she could only produce meaningless gasps.
“Shut up.” The woman had already emerged halfway from the canvas. She looked down at Helos, who was sitting on the floor, and her hollow eyes showed an expression of disdain.
The woman waved her hand. An invisible pressure instantly enveloped Helos’s entire body, pinning her to the floor, unable to move. “You’re too noisy.”
That was not mana. Helos was not sensitive to mana, but she could be sure it was not any kind of elemental magic. It was a pure and domineering “force field” that seemed to forcibly distort all magic.
“Let me see… what kind of little mouse dared to disturb my slumber.” The woman, who called herself a “ghost,” slowly floated down.
Her feet did not touch the ground; her bloodstained white dress moved without wind. She floated in front of Helos, extended that cold hand, and unceremoniously grabbed Helos’s chin, forcing her to look up.
Their faces came together. Helos looked at the ghostly face so close to her, tears welling up in her eyes. Her mental state was not as good as it had been a few days ago!
Especially after Julius returned—that guy had almost taken over everything for her together with Gavi, causing her to develop dependence in just a few days!
When the woman saw Helos’s face, especially her pale purple eyes, her originally casual expression suddenly froze. Her voice carried a tremor.
“This… aura…” She released Helos’s chin, and her fingers slid down Helos’s cheek, finally stopping on her silver hair.
The woman muttered to herself, “Could it be… no, that’s not it…” Then, as if thinking of something amusing, she let out a snicker. “Ha, I thought it was some reckless junior coming to inherit my will. But it turns out to be a fake.”
“F-fake?” Although frightened, Helos still retorted upon hearing that word. “I’m not a fake! I’m from the Olivias family—”
“Shut up,” the woman cut her off coldly. “I don’t care what your surname is. In my eyes, you are just a pathetic creature abandoned by the gods.”
She floated a circle around Helos, her hollow eyes seeming to see through Helos’s soul. “Your body is… completely empty.”
“No mana. No battle aura. Even the most basic life force is pitifully weak.” The woman judged ruthlessly. “You are like a leaky, wind-filled sack—any mana that enters your body will dissipate.”
She changed the subject and floated back in front of Helos. “But—” “Your body is wrapped in a scent that I find ‘familiar.'” The woman extended her hand and lightly tapped Helos’s heart. “Little girl… you can suppress external mana, can’t you?”
Helos was stunned, and her expression froze for a moment. She looked quite surprised.
“Don’t be so surprised,” the woman seemed to read her thoughts, a mocking smile curling at the corner of her mouth.
“I’ve seen this kind of curse centuries ago. Back then, we called it the ‘Chain of Nothingness.'” “Oh, to be precise, your ability is a bit different from ours. Yours seems to be more—”
“Who are you?!” Helos finally found her voice. She gritted her teeth and stared at the woman.
“Who am I? I am the last Spellbreaker.”
“Spellbreaker? What’s that?” Hearing the girl’s question, the woman threw back her head and laughed as if it were the funniest joke.
The laughter was sharp and piercing, echoing in the empty hall, shaking the crystal chandelier overhead. “Hahaha! Spellbreaker… what a long-forgotten title, so old that you’ve never even heard of it.”
The laughter stopped abruptly. The woman lowered her head sharply, her hollow eyes fixed on Helos, her voice turning extremely cold. “Listen well, little girl.”
“I am Sylvia.” She raised her head proudly, as if proclaiming some supreme title. “I was once the last person in this world…” “…who could pull the Imperial Archmages off their pedestal—the ‘Great Slayer of Mages.'”
Sylvia? Helos frantically searched her mind for that name but found nothing.
“What? Never heard of it?” Sylvia looked at Helos’s blank expression, and the disdain in her eyes deepened. “I see. History books nowadays must have already erased my name.”
“After all… those sanctimonious mage lords are most afraid of people knowing that they were once butchered like pigs and dogs by me.”
Her murderous aura erupted without reservation in that instant. Helos felt it hard to breathe, as if an invisible hand was strangling her throat.
“Originally I planned to kill you,” Sylvia said coldly. “Any mage who dares to intrude here must die. That’s the rule.”
“But I’m… not a mage!” Helos forced out a sentence. “I don’t know any magic!”
“I know,” Sylvia retracted her murderous aura and reverted to her proud, cold ghost. “It’s precisely because you are not a mage, precisely for that reason, that you are still alive.”
Her hollow eyes swept up and down Helos, as if selecting a convenient tool. “And…”
“Although you are a fake, although your body is as weak as a chicken, although your curse—well… hmm, is beyond my understanding.” “But your eyes… they resemble mine quite a bit.”
Sylvia floated behind Helos. Her cold arms, like venomous snakes, wrapped around Helos’s neck from behind.
She pressed her lips to Helos’s ear and whispered in a seductive and dangerous tone, “Little girl, do you want to… learn how to truly use the power within you?” “Instead of standing by like an idiot, passively watching it affect you, waiting for it to turn you into a monster that devours mana?”
Helos’s heart leaped. Truly use… the Curse of Silence?
“What do you want?” she asked cautiously.
“Nothing,” Sylvia let out a soft laugh. Her body began to grow transparent, as if she intended to return to the painting.
“I’ve just been stuck in this dump for too long. I’m a little bored.” “Since heaven has sent a little brat with ‘anti-magic’ qualities right to me, I’ll reluctantly humor you and play a little game.”
Her figure was already half gone, leaving only a faint outline in the air.
But her voice still sounded somewhat threatening: “From today onward, this house is yours.” “However, as rent, you need to inherit certain things from me.”