-Five Years Later-
"My lady, please stop running! You'll hurt yourself again!"
The long, marble hallway of the Verdant mansion echoed with hurried footsteps and laughter — a white-haired blur darting past startled maids. The sound of her gleeful voice carried through the estate, shattering the morning calm.
"You won't catch me this time, Gisel!" the child shouted, her sapphire eyes sparkling with mischief as she turned a sharp corner.
But before she could make her great escape, a pair of strong arms caught her mid-run, sweeping her up effortlessly. The little girl let out a tiny yelp, her legs still kicking in protest.
"Iris! You always do this!" she pouted, puffing her cheeks as she glared up at her captor — a young woman in black training attire, her long raven hair tied neatly behind her head, her calm expression barely hiding her amusement.
"Lady Sophia," Iris replied, tone both soft and firm, "you know I can't let you go. Master's orders were clear — I am to bring you to him."
Sophia tried one last time, her lips curling into an irresistible smile. "But Iris… just once? Pretty please?" She blinked rapidly, fake tears glimmering at the edge of her eyes.
Iris sighed in mock defeat, though her heart softened. The child's charm was dangerously effective, but years of exposure had built resistance even to this adorable manipulation. "Nice try, my lady," she said, handing Sophia over to Gisel, the young maid who had been chasing her.
Gisel chuckled as she adjusted Sophia in her arms. "You naughty girl," she teased, tugging playfully at Sophia's cheek.
Sophia giggled, her laughter filling the air like music — innocent, bright, and full of the life she had once longed for.
-Study Room-
The study smelled faintly of oak and parchment. Morning light streamed through tall arched windows, glinting off polished shelves filled with tomes on history, politics, and arcane lore.
Behind a grand mahogany desk sat Damien Verdant, Duke of the Verdant Duchy — his golden hair neatly tied, his sapphire eyes calm but focused. He shuffled a few papers, his demeanor the perfect balance between warrior and nobleman.
The door opened gently. A woman entered — Isabelle Verdant, his wife. Her presence softened the air of authority in the room.
"Honey," she began softly, her tone layered with concern, "are you really going to let her do this?"
Damien looked up, meeting the gaze of the woman he loved. Her long white hair cascaded gracefully down her back, her hazelnut eyes filled with warmth and worry. Even after all these years, her beauty struck him — not because of perfection, but because of the strength behind it.
He rose slightly, his voice low but resolute. "Isabelle, I know your heart hesitates, but we can't chain her wings. Sophia was born to soar — we cannot keep her grounded, even if we wish to."
Isabelle's lips parted, her eyes heavy with the weight of maternal fear. "I know that, Damien. But what you call wings… the world will see as a threat. She won't just be under the Empire's gaze — the whole continent will notice her. Can you imagine what that will bring?"
Damien exhaled slowly, walking around his desk to sit beside her on the velvet couch. He took her hand in his, the warmth of his touch grounding her trembling heart.
He understood. The revelation had shaken them both.
Sophia — their precious daughter — had shown signs of mana awakening unusually early. Out of curiosity, they had summoned a Mage to assess her potential. It had been meant as a harmless test. But the results… were far from ordinary.
Sophia's mana paths were perfect — pure, vibrant, and unrestrained.
The Mage, an old friend of Damien, had declared, that the girl was destined to reach the Ninth Circle— the realm of the Legendary Mages.
In the long, storied history of Ataraxia, there had been only one Ninth Circle Mage — a man who had helped forge the Dirian Empire five centuries ago, whose magic had shaped mountains and torn armies apart. The mere possibility of another appearing now could shift the balance of power across the world.
If word of Sophia's potential spread, she would not be seen as a blessing — but as a threat.
Damien, as a Duke of the Empire and a Grandmaster of the Blade, had asked his old friend Gerald Dawford, an Eighth Circle Mage and head of the Imperial Mage Division to keep this a secret. Gerald had promised — even under oath — that Sophia's secret would remain buried, known to none, not even the Emperor.
Even so, both parents knew that secrets had a way of unraveling.
Damien tightened his grip on Isabelle's hand. "We are her shield, Belle. If not us, then who? We will guide her… protect her… even from destiny itself if we must."
Tears welled in Isabelle's eyes. "Promise me she will never be harmed because of this," she whispered.
"Belle…" Damien's voice softened, yet sorrow tinged every word. "You know I cannot promise that. But I can vow this — I will protect her with my life. She's my daughter. I'll give her everything she needs to face this world."
A faint smile graced Isabelle's lips. She nodded, though her heart remained heavy. The weight of motherhood was not one that logic could ease.
A gentle knock echoed through the room.
"Come in," Damien said, composing himself. He brushed a stray tear from Isabelle's cheek before straightening his posture.
The door creaked open.
"Daddy! Mommy!"
Sophia burst into the study like a small whirlwind, her laughter chasing away the tension in the air. She wriggled free from Gisel's arms, sprinting toward her parents and leaping into her mother's embrace.
"Sophia, how many times have I told you to slow down?" Isabelle scolded lightly, though her lips betrayed her with a smile.
"Sorry, Mommy! I won't do it again," Sophia said quickly, though the sparkle in her eyes made it clear she meant no such thing.
"Come here, little one." Damien reached out and lifted her onto his lap, seating her between him and Isabelle on the couch.
Sophia's expression turned comically serious. "I promise I won't eat sweets again," she blurted suddenly.
Both parents blinked in confusion.
"Eh? What do you mean, darling?" Isabelle asked, tilting her head.
Sophia fidgeted with her fingers. "Isn't that why you called me? Because I finished all the sweets this week?" Her tone was guilty, her small voice trembling like someone facing execution.
Damien chuckled, shaking his head. "No, Sophia. We didn't call you for that. You can eat all the sweets you want — as long as you don't overdo it."
Her eyes widened in delight. "Really?!"
"Yes," he said warmly. "We're not here to scold you. We're here to talk about something else."
Sophia blinked curiously, tilting her head. "Then why did you call me?"
Isabelle smiled gently. "Sophia, you said you wanted to become a Mage and a Swordswoman, right?"
Her sapphire eyes lit up instantly. "Yes! I want to learn magic and fight monsters!" She jumped up, striking a pose with an imaginary sword and mimicking a spell blast with her tiny hands.
Her parents laughed — though for different reasons. Isabelle's eyes gleamed with affection, while Damien watched in quiet awe, sensing the fire already blooming within his daughter.
Her white hair shimmered in the sunlight, and in that moment, Damien saw both his wife's grace and his own determination reflected in her.
"Then it's settled," he said at last. "I'll arrange the best tutors for you — both in swordsmanship and magic."
Sophia's eyes widened. "Really?!"
"Of course," Damien said, his voice full of pride. "Our little Sophia deserves nothing less."
"Yay! Thank you, Daddy! Thank you, Mommy!" she cried, throwing her arms around both of them.
As the family embraced, the moment felt timeless — radiant — as though the gods themselves paused to witness it.
None of them knew it yet, but that simple promise would ignite a path of destiny neither parent could protect her from forever.
-A Few Days Later-
'So this world is called Ataraxia…' Sophia thought as she lay sprawled across her enormous bed, her small hands clutching a book whose pages fluttered with the gentle breath of morning wind. The queen-sized mattress dwarfed her tiny frame, the soft pink sheets and stuffed toys scattered everywhere making the room seem like a world of its own—warm, innocent, alive.
The sunlight filtering through her silk curtains cast a tender glow on her pale hair, turning it almost silver-white. She blinked slowly, her sapphire eyes filled with a serenity only children and dreamers could hold.
Ever since her rebirth in this world, she had shed the rigid skin of her former life. Gone was the noblewoman who had been forced to kneel beneath the weight of duty and suffocating etiquette. Here, she had allowed herself to be a child—to laugh, to run, to fill the air of the Verdant mansion with chaos and delight.
Yet, her mind was never idle.
In her previous life, she had been caged by the expectations of aristocracy, drilled in politics and manners before she could even grasp the meaning of joy. But this time… this time, she had vowed to live freely. To walk the path she chose. And if the day came when her past demanded reckoning—she would not run.
Sophia's gaze wandered to the ceiling as she let the words from the open history book echo in her mind. The story of the world unfurled before her eyes like a painted scroll.
Ataraxia—four continents divided by divine hands: the Human, Demon, Elven, and Dwarven realms. Each separated by an ethereal barrier, a shroud forged by the gods themselves after the Great War that had almost torn creation apart. The barrier still stood, a reminder of divine wrath and mortal folly.
The Human Continent, her home, was the most politically intricate of them all—ruled under the mighty Dirian Empire, with five vassal kingdoms beneath it: Rudal, Gridor, Kharos, Tyros, and Hargon. Though tensions simmered and greed often sparked border conflicts, the Empire's sheer power had long kept chaos at bay.
Sophia turned the page, her lips forming a faint smile. The House of Verdant…
Her father, Duke Damien Verdant—Grandmaster of the Blade, loyal pillar of the Dirian Empire, a man whose name alone commanded respect and fear. He could have built a kingdom of his own had he wished, yet he chose a quieter life. A life with her mother, Isabelle Sinclair of the Marquess Household—a scholar of politics, whose intellect had often been the unseen weapon behind the Verdant family's stability.
Sophia admired them both more than words could tell.
Still, she felt the undercurrent of destiny stirring beneath her. A quiet pulse that whispered she was not meant for a simple life, no matter how much she longed for it.
Her eyes dropped to the open notebook beside her—the one she had filled with neatly written notes summarizing the history she'd just read. "This should make learning faster when my lessons start…" she murmured to herself with a satisfied nod.
Just then—
Knock! Knock!
"My lady! The Master has ordered me to bring you to the training grounds!" came Iris's clear, commanding voice through the door.
Sophia's sapphire eyes lit up instantly. She jumped off the bed, her small feet thudding against the carpet as she called back, "Coming!"
She quickly closed the heavy history tome and placed her notebook on top, aligning the corners with almost comical precision before rushing toward the door. When she opened it, Iris was already waiting—tall, poised, and sharp-eyed as ever, her sword resting at her side like a loyal extension of her will.
"Let's go," Sophia said with determination that didn't quite fit her age.
Without another word, she walked past Iris, her white hair swaying with every confident step. They moved through the grand hallway of the Verdant mansion—the marble floors gleaming beneath their feet, chandeliers glittering like constellations above them. Servants paused in their duties, bowing respectfully as the little lady passed, their smiles warm and fond.
Sophia returned their greetings with a cheerful nod, her eyes filled with the quiet pride of one who knew where she belonged, but also what she wished to become.
-
The mansion's wide staircase opened into a sunlit corridor that led toward the training grounds. Through the tall windows, she caught glimpses of the sprawling gardens, the distant stables, and beyond them—the open field where her father once dueled knights and commanders alike.
Her small heart raced.
This was where she would begin her journey—not as a Duke's daughter, not as a reincarnated noblewoman—but as Sophia Verdant, the girl who would one day master both magic and the sword.
And though she didn't yet know it, the faint breeze that brushed her cheek at that very moment carried with it the whispers of fate—the same fate that had once bound her life in tragedy, now gently turning her toward a future written in light and fire.