The young professor clenched his fists, his nails pinching his staff. He and his colleagues were of Master Tier, yet they couldn’t hold a candle to their enemy. This mysterious Slime Girl effortlessly dispelled their strikes.

To cast multiple complex spells at the same time, she must stand at the pinnacle of the Master Tier, infinitely close to the Grandmaster Tier.

“Must I choose my own guide?” Iris turned to a group of students, whose eyes simmered with hatred and terror and anxiety. “If I pick you, will you resist?”

The professor stepped forward. “Don’t expect that we’ll let you do as you please. The students are our pride and future. Their safety is our duty.”

Iris shifted her gaze to the professor, beamed at him, and eyed another professor, whose torn cloak revealed her thin inner dress. Her pale skin shivered under Iris’s stare. She wanted to retreat behind the crowd but stopped herself.

It was her duty to protect her students.

“I . . . am willing to—”

“I’m willing!” a crisp voice sounded.

A student pushed her way through the crowd. Her long blue hair danced with her energised motion. She raised her right hand, which held her delicate wand, and dropped it. Its descent accelerated before it slowed as the air beneath it thickened. Space faintly trembled, and the wand vanished into a pocket dimension.

Iris brightened her smile. “An elegant spell.”

“Stand down, Niran,” the female professor said. “As your advisor, I can’t allow you to take this risk.”

Niran looked at her teacher and shook her head. “I know what I’m doing, Teacher. No one’s coercing me; it’s my choice.”

“She’s a . . . Corrupted One. Your life will depend on her whimsical mood.”

“If she wished to harm us, she would’ve already done it.”

The professor couldn’t find a compelling retort. Niran was too stubborn and prideful and never cared about her image.

“Your pursuit of knowledge is admirable.” Iris drew her right hand forwards. “Take my hand and be my guide. The reward is my mentorship . . . and a chance to enjoy an unforgettable experience.”

Niran took a deep breath and, after glancing at her defeated professor, sauntered to Iris. Her footstep knocked against the marble floor, echoing within the muffled hall. The subdued whispers of her fellow students lingered beside her ears, reminding her that she was heading toward the path of darkness.

To accept the hand of a Corrupted One, was she a traitor to her race? She never had any loyalty to such a concept in the first place. Not when her people stood aside when she needed them the most.

She took Iris’s hand. The slippery membrane tickled her. It dampened her delicate hand, and she shivered, strange thoughts emerging in her head.

Iris grasped that soft hand and pulled her guide to her chest. Niran closed her eyes and bumped into Iris’s breasts. A floral scent overwhelmed her. She opened her mouth to cry. Iris embraced her, stifling her voice.

Pinkness tainted her vision, painted her cheeks, and clouded her mind. She wished to free herself from this heart-stirring embrace but lacked the strength to do so.

“My dear Niran,” Iris whispered. “Remember this sensation well; this is how we Monster Girls walk this earth, breathe this air. This is how we seduce our lovely victims.”

Would this be how she lose her humanity? She . . . didn’t feel too scared.

Niran gradually relaxed, though she kept her arms to her side, not daring to return the embrace.

“What are you doing!” Niran’s mentor grasped forward. A silver-framed mirror appeared in her hand. Its reflective surface glimmered, revealing a blurry river of stars on the other side. “Release her now!”

Iris chuckled. She let go of her guide, who absentmindedly stayed leaning on her. Niran sluggishly retreated from Iris, her eyes unfocused, her thoughts diffused. Even her mentor’s shout failed to reach her.

Her heart raced, not just from the sparkling warmth of Iris’s touch, but also from an indescribable feeling originating from her confused soul.

While Niran mulled over her gain, Iris pressed her index finger on her lips and smiled. The professor gritted her teeth and withdrew her mirror. She couldn’t risk hurting her pupil.

“I’ve always admired the academy founder. His legendary contribution against the demonic invasion is a tale told through centuries,” Iris said. “I was hoping to pay his statue my respect.”

Niran blinked. She looked at her hands, feeling a subtle difference in her circulation of magic. She could immerse herself in this feeling for hours, but she pulled back and turned to Iris.

“Thank you, Miss.” She gracefully bowed. “Allow me to lead you to our founder.”

“I’ll be in your care, you in mine.”

Niran hesitated but then grabbed Iris’s hand. She gently squeezed it as she walked toward an exit. The crowd parted way for her and Iris, though their intense gazes never left. Though her expression stayed unchanged, her pace quickened.

Once others couldn’t see her, she returned to her normal speed. She guided Iris through an empty hallway, passing quiet classrooms, where stacks of books and scattered documents fluttered with the winds. The crimson mist and bloody radiance of the outside peered through the windows, cloaking this otherwise tranquil atmosphere with desolation.

“Does solitude fill you with contentment?” Iris said.

“I prefer quietude over chaos.”

“A pity. Your charm deserves more admirers.” Iris stroked the back of Niran’s hand. “Do you know why I choose you?”

“My lack of prejudice?”

“When I saw how decisive you were, I could feel your aspiration; I adore those who strive for greatness.”

Niran covered her mouth but failed to hide her smile. “Please don’t mistake my loneliness for aspiration.”

Iris snuck closer to Niran and leaned forward. She lightly sniffed Niran’s hair and blew at her left ear. The chilly breath permeated her earlobe. Her face heated up.

“On your hair is a familiar scent,” Iris said. “A scent of a liar.”

“What do you—”

“There is another girl’s scent on you. Who is this secret lover of yours?”

“She’s . . . my roommate. We aren’t that intimate. We merely sleep together sometimes.”

“Must be a shy lovely girl to sneak her way into your world.”

Niran lightly coughed. Never had she viewed her close friend that way, yet Iris’s words crept into her mind, diffused within her body, and tugged her heartstring. As she recalled the moments they spent together, her breathing slowed. They were close, too close . . . .

“We are just friends, Miss!” Niran bit her tongue, using pain to distract her astray thoughts.

Iris didn’t press further. She changed the subject, and Niran gladly entertained her. Their leisure pace gave way to their discussion, with Niran mostly listening, and Iris mostly teaching.

As promised, Iris advised Niran on her form, stance, and process. Like a strict sister, she pointed out inefficient movements but also praised resourceful methods.

Iris’s teaching elevated Niran’s understanding of magic as well as gave her a fresh perspective worth pursuing. She’d never known that such a path existed, or that there were other paths leading to more endpoints.

Despite not having the time to properly digest the information, she could tell that this lesson was a fruitful one.

“Is my guidance worth the consequence?” Iris said.

“I’ve learned not to give rumours power over me.”

“Yet they still do. Even if they cannot sway you, they can sway others.” Iris carefully wrapped her arms around her pupil and leaned her head on her pupil’s shoulder. “There is still another choice, a choice which will liberate you from your shackle.”

Niran swallowed. She could feel Iris’s breasts pushing her back, Iris’s fingers stroking her arms. “Can I refuse? Will you be disappointed?”

Iris chuckled. She brushed her lips on Niran’s cheek and detached herself from her flustered guide. Her slimy membrane moistened Niran’s cloak and outfit, turning them translucent, bringing her pink flesh to view.

“Should I?”

Niran couldn’t answer. She didn’t know if she should be disappointed or happy.

“I can’t bear to leave behind everything.”

“When you no longer have any regret,” Iris said, “you can always accept my offer. No matter where or when, no matter how or why, I’ll welcome you.”

Iris pressed her palms together, squeezed them gently, and pulled them apart. A fine pink thread appeared in her right hand. She grasped Niran’s right arm and tied the thread to her wrist. It merged with her skin, turning into a faint heart-shaped mark.

“Worry not, Dear. No one will notice your Thread of Emotion, no one except you.” Iris stroked Niran’s wrist. “Untie your attachment, and I’ll take you away.”

Niran touched her wrist, touched the tiny heart imprinted on her skin. It contained a foreign yet familiar warmth, the warmth that reminded her of the kiss on her cheek.

Even when separated, Iris’s visage permeated everything she touched.

The two exited the building and now stood before a monument surrounded by flower banquets and scrolls of condolence and candles. They stared at the statue of the founder, whose appearance, though ordinary and natural, radiated light of wisdom which kept the crimson mist at bay.

“You should return to your friends, Niran,” Iris said.

“But I have yet to learn your technique.” Niran lowered her head. “And I want to see your next move. Am I not welcome?”

“Knowing too much can be a sin.” Iris chuckled. “But we are sinful creatures.”

Iris strolled to the monument. She knelt before a stone slab on which engraved memorial speeches and traced the characters with her fingertips. Her azure slime tainted the greyish surface, bubbled, and turned purple as her Corruption Power swirled.

The founder statue vibrated. Countless symbols flashed on his surface. His stiff scholar robe broke from its constraint and fluttered with ripples generated by Iris’s power. The slender staff on his left hand glowed, its orb returning to life, revealing a scene of infernal landscape within.

Spacetime surrounding the statue distorted. An impregnable haze manifested, separating the secrets inside from the outside.

Niran widened her eyes. She, after confirming that she was alone, rushed toward the misty dome. Her hands flowed with her movement, and her silvery Pure Power enveloped them.

She reached for the haze.

A shadowy figure materialised in front of her, blocking her path. Secain stared into Niran’s eyes, observing this lady with whom her mistress had taken a special interest.

“Who are you?” Niran narrowed her eyes.

“Her safety is my priority. Do not move recklessly, or there will be consequences.”

A few Monster Girls, including Lorient, walked out of the bloody mist. They watched the wall of haze flickering, shivering, spinning, crumbling from within. None expressed their worries, for their mistress never lost.

“Are you . . . here to escort her?” Niran said. “Must I follow her?”

“It’s her decision; everything is.”

Lorient went up to Niran and grinned. “I saw worries in your eyes, Young Lady. Have you been smitten?”

“I’m not Young Lady. My name is Niran, and I merely want to see what’s happening.” Niran turned to the dispersing haze. “She’s yet to fulfil her promise.”

“I’ve already taught you my spell.”

With a smile on her face, Iris lifted her hand away from the cracked slab and strolled away from the statue, whose appearance, though outwardly unchanged, had lost its mysterious glamour. As she passed her two close aids, she nodded at them, and they returned her greeting by hiding their bashful eyes.

“Niran, either you return now, or you will come with us.”

Silence came and went. Niran sighed. “I’ll keep your offer in mind, Miss.”

Secain and Lorient peeked at Niran, who averted her gaze. She could feel the jealousy emanating from those two. Although she couldn’t bring herself to admit it, she liked the feeling.

“And this marks our farewell, Niran. I hope, when you return, that you will treat your Tundra well, better than a mere intimate friend.”

Niran blinked. She raised her head, but Iris and her two guards had already vanished into the bloody mist. Judging from their direction, they must be heading toward Alchemy Warehouse.

But . . . how did Iris know her friend’s name was Tundra?