Chapter 1 – The Witch of Emerald Creek Plains

After the seemingly never ending war, devastation stretched as far as the eye could see.

The planet wept, life wailed, and civilization crumbled.

Mo Lan collapsed before the grave of her last companion.

In the depths of space, that azure planet which had once given birth to so many miracles had become deathly still.

The planet itself was speaking to her.

“Civilization has lost its way. This catastrophe—even the world itself could not escape it.

I’m truly sorry I couldn’t let you grow up peacefully on a land full of life.

Fortunately, the power I have left is still enough to send you children with strong souls away from here.

Go, Mo Lan! Carry the brilliance of Earth’s civilization, carry Gaia’s final blessing, and journey to a new world!”

Mo Lan hesitated, “Will I ever be able to come back? Is there a way to save you?”

“I’m giving you this. If the day comes when you possess the power to save the world, it will guide you to find me on another timeline.

But remember—do not force it.

I have poured the world’s remaining power into sending you all away, not so that you would exhaust your lives running back for your homeland.

So long as civilization endures, I too shall not perish.

Sleep now, my child. When you wake, you will greet a new life!”

……

Mo Lan jolted awake from the nightmare.

Her violet eyes reflected the old attic ceiling, like brilliant stars glimmering in the depths of space—mysterious and captivating.

“That dream again!” she murmured, touching the sweat-soaked front of her nightgown.

It had been many years since she crossed over to the world of Valen, yet the final memories of her previous life had long since hardened into a recurring nightmare.

When the apocalypse truly arrived, humanity had no Noah’s Ark to shelter in.

Instead, it was Gaia itself—scarred and ravaged beyond recognition—that used its last reserves of power to send away those souls like hers that could withstand the journey between worlds.

It didn’t even ask them to save it. It only hoped they would carry the planet’s memory into the distance and cherish their hard-won new lives.

Had she not asked that one extra question, Gaia probably wouldn’t have even told her how to save it.

In her previous life, she had been an orphan—alone in the world, with no one to call family. She had struggled to survive in the Wasteland and failed, accepting death with nothing left to cling to.

Yet that lifeless planet she saw in those final moments had been seared deep into her heart, impossible to forget no matter what.

It shouldn’t have ended up that way.

It was humanity’s wars that had ruined it!

“The power to save the world…”

Mo Lan felt deeply grateful that it was the world of Valen that had accepted her soul.

On the Earth of her previous life, the idea of one person possessing the power to save the world was nothing but a fantasy.

But in Valen, a world brimming with magic and miracles, it was not impossible.

Here, power belonged to the individual. Every being whose strength surpassed the Peak level could reach a place called the Well of the Sky.

The Well of the Sky connected to other world dimensions. The mighty of Valen could travel through it to other worlds, gaining further advancement.

Granted, Mo Lan was currently just a young witch whose only knowledge of the magical world came from the 《Young Witch’s Primer》, a compendium of information for children distilled into a single volume. Personally, despite being a witch, she was without a single magical power to her name.

But she firmly believed that one day, she would gain enough power to reach the Well of the Sky and find the path back to Earth.

And today—her thirteenth birthday—marked the very beginning of her journey into the world of magic.

The Witch Academy’s admission letter would arrive on this day.

Mo Lan had long envied Mama Shana’s command of magic.

Unfortunately, a young witch who rashly channeled the magical power in her bloodline before the age of thirteen would only damage her foundation.

But after today, everything would be different.

The thought filled her with anticipation.

Mo Lan got up and folded the floral cotton blanket neatly, stacking it at the foot of the bed. It was the height of midsummer; the sun had only just risen, yet the cool of the night had already fled, leaving the air stifling and hot.

The ice that Mama Shana had frozen in the bucket with her Flash Freeze spell had long since melted, though the water still held a faint chill.

It was hard to say whether she’d been jolted awake by the nightmare or by the heat.

Sweaty and sticky all over, she slipped off her nightgown, dampened a towel with the cool water from the bucket, and wiped herself down.

A warm breeze drifted into the room, raising goosebumps on her still-damp skin.

Only her back and the nape of her neck remained warm, draped in a cascade of tousled curls like a fuzzy purple wool blanket, radiating heat.

She wet her hands and raked her purple hair into some semblance of order, then casually braided it into a simple plait.

She pulled a black hair ribbon from where it hung on the bedpost, tied off the braid, and let it drape over her chest before wiping down her chest and back once more.

Instantly, she felt refreshed.

She changed into a light dress, shuffled into her slippers, and padded over to the window.

Pushing the window open, a wave of humid heat washed over her face. Another bright, sunny day.

The sky above Emerald Creek Plains was clear and brilliant, as always.

In the distance, rivers crisscrossed the landscape, their waters crystal clear to the bottom.

Thick meadows of green grass spread like an exquisite emerald carpet laid over the riverbanks.

Down by the river, Mama Shana carried a basket on her arm as she gathered the gifts left by the local waterbirds.

The haul was piled high on the riverside grass—it looked like a good day’s harvest.

Suddenly, a flash of gold streaked across the horizon and arrived before her eyes in an instant—a paper bird covered in golden ink patterns.

Those golden ink markings gleamed even more brilliantly than the summer sun.

Mo Lan had seen this scene described countless times in the “《Young Witch’s Primer》.”

The Witch Academy’s admission letters always found their way to young witches like this.

Mo Lan reached out her hand, and the paper bird alighted on her palm, transforming into a letter.

The seal on the envelope bore the marks of a book, fireworks, and a golden quill—the symbols of the Mistress of the Wilds, the Protector of Witches: the Sorceress.

Sorceress were born from among the witches, yet they were fundamentally different.

They commanded not merely magical power, but mana—a force of a higher order—and possessed limitless potential for growth along with unique innate abilities.

The witch race had produced only three Sorceresses in its entire history.

Yet those three alone had fought against the combined might of Valen’s other races, carving out the Wilds and securing dominion over it.

The witches, once scattered across the land, finally had a homeland to call their own.

Under the Sorceresses’ protection, the Wilds had risen to become the fourth great Forbidden Zone, alongside Heaven’s Peak, the Abyss, and Dragon Isle.

“Mistress Moira, you have hereby been granted admission to the Witch Academy. The enrollment ceremony will be held three days from now (June 13th) at eight o’clock in the evening.

At that time, the seal on your admission letter will activate automatically and transport you to the Witch Academy. Please be prepared.

All study materials and daily necessities required during your time at the Academy will be provided by the Witch Academy.

Additionally, please ensure you are properly dressed in your academy robes when departing for the Academy.

Enclosed with this letter is one set of academy robes.

—Headmistress Amisha”

When she finished reading, the letter dissolved into her palm, becoming an envelope seal imprinted on her skin.

Mo Lan rubbed the seal, and the letter reappeared in her hand. She tucked it away, and it became the seal once more.

This was too magical. She couldn’t help pulling it out and putting it back, pulling it out and putting it back, over and over, amusing herself endlessly—so much so that by the time Mama Shana returned, she still hadn’t noticed.

Shana looked up and saw her daughter standing at the attic window, staring intently at her own palm, her movements unmistakably familiar.

Hadn’t she done the exact same thing when she received her own admission letter all those years ago?

She called out, “Little Moira! Has your admission letter arrived?”