Eight Years Ago.
At the top of the mountain, where many kinds of sects assemble.
Loud cheers rang from the arena, echoing like thunder across the grand coliseum. Everyone eagerly awaited the grand finale between Lady Lunar Frost Sovereign of the Flying Sword Sect, and the swordsman from the Heaven Sect.
Inside a quiet preparation room, a young girl gazed at the audience, utterly uninterested. She stood motionless, as if the noise outside was only a distant echo—something unworthy of her attention. Her pale silver hair flowed straight down her back, shining with a faint bluish sheen like moonlight. Each strand shimmered clearly, as if woven from dew at midnight.
Her eyes were pale, translucent blue. They were clear, deep, and unfathomable. Her gaze showed no emotion. Even so, anyone who met it felt quietly measured, not just observed.
Her skin was flawless and luminous, carrying a faint glow like moonlight. She looked almost unreal. She seemed more like a goddess who had descended into the mortal world than a warrior of flesh and blood.
Her silver-white robes were simple and unadorned. Each fold of fabric fell with quiet elegance. It followed the balanced stillness of her posture. She did not give off any aggressive or domineering aura. Instead, she was unnaturally calm. That calm made the air around her feel colder, heavier, and eerily silent.
"Why do I have to enter this competition?" she muttered dryly, her tone carrying a subtle trace of irritation. "I wouldn't even need to use a single move."
It was not arrogance, only a statement of fact. Throughout the competition, she had never truly used the full extent of her swordsmanship—her opponents either fell to her overwhelming aura or forfeited before the match could begin.
"Selene, isn't that because you are the number one female swordman in this world?"
An elderly man's gentle voice sounded from behind her. His long white hair and flowing beard framed a face lined with age, yet his eyes gleamed with unmistakable pride.
"You are not merely a sword master bearing the title 'Mistress of the Moonlit Path,'" he continued warmly. "You are also a true mage who carries the title 'White Calamity, and because of this rare dual achievement, the public reverently calls you the Lunar Frost Sovereign."
"So?" Selene turned her head slightly, her expression perfectly blank and unaffected.
"You are the only person who possesses both powers—and you achieved them before turning twenty. A few years older, and you wouldn't even qualify for this competition."
The rank of Sword Master was the pinnacle of the swordsman's path, surpassed only by Grand Master—a state of supreme enlightenment that strengthened both body and soul and greatly slowed aging. The same applied to a True Mage, the highest rank below Grand Mage.
In the world as vast as Skybound Plane, there was only one Grand Mage at any given time. That sacred position was passed down through succession. It remained within the highest Magic Tower, and only those who had reached the level of True Mage could even be considered as candidates.
Selene, possessing her rare snow element and an unparalleled heart-freezing cold affinity, had become the youngest True Mage ever recorded in history.
"As I said," Selene replied with a faint snort, "why should I care? Genius or not, that's hardly a reason to force me into something this tedious and dull."
She preferred dangerous missions—exterminating ruthless bandits in scorching deserts or hunting high-ranking beasts in venomous swamps. In comparison, this grand competition seemed trivial.
The sect master merely shook his head with quiet resignation, fully aware that his sect's most prized disciple had no genuine interest in the prestige of this gathering. And truthfully, he could not blame her.
Since the age of six, Selene showed extraordinary talent in both swordsmanship and magic. All six sects sought to recruit her, but she chose the Flying Sword Sect—the largest and most influential.
At the same time, the Order of Grand Force—the world's supreme mage organization—claimed her as their own. From then on, Selene split her time evenly between swordsmanship in the sect and magical study at the Magic Tower.
She reached the rank of Sword Master at fifteen. A few months later, she advanced to the rank of True Mage. Now, at eighteen, she was compelled to participate in this grand sword competition.
"I know this event seems insignificant to you," the elderly man said calmly. "But it is held only once every five years. By then, you will no longer meet the age requirement. Consider this… experience."
A playful glint appeared in his eyes. "You might even meet your destined soulmate here."
Selene frowned, clearly displeased. "Old man, have you grown senile? I'm only eighteen and already a Sword Master. I have centuries ahead of me. Marriage can wait."
"What about that young man?" the old man said, ignoring her retort as he gestured toward a swordsman in the courtyard. "He's quite handsome. Though not yet a Sword Master, his potential is undeniable."
"I am certain he was not nearly as handsome as you must have been in your youth," Selene replied with dry indifference.
Her remark drew a hearty laugh from the elderly man. "Naughty girl. Very well, I shall not force you any further."
From outside, the cheers surged louder than before, signaling that the match was moments away from commencing.
The sect master left his disciple alone, allowing her time to meditate and prepare herself for the upcoming battle—although he highly doubted she required such preparation in the slightest.
In truth, Selene needed no preparation. Victory was inevitable. She only hoped her opponent wouldn't surrender too quickly and would offer a somewhat entertaining fight.
Suddenly, the soft fluttering of wings echoed faintly near the open lattice window. Selene instinctively raised her hand at the familiar chirping sound. The small bird descended gracefully, landing upon her extended index finger.
The instant it touched her skin, her complexion drained of all color.
Her breath caught violently in her throat, as though invisible hands had stolen the air from her lungs. Her head throbbed with overwhelming agony, and darkness rapidly crept into the edges of her vision.
"No…" she whispered hoarsely.
With swift precision, she froze the bird and detonated the imprint within it, severing the connection and preserving her consciousness.
The creature shattered into bluish mana, scattering like fading stardust. She remained conscious, but the pain in her heart felt suffocatingly real.
Selene clutched her chest tightly, her fingers trembling. Tears welled within her pale blue eyes before silently streaming down her porcelain cheeks.
"No… this cannot be." Her voice shook for the first time. "I have to leave."
And so, Selene—known as the Mistress of the Moonlit Path, the White Calamity, and the Lunar Frost Sovereign—vanished from the competition without a trace.
From that day onward, no one knew of her whereabouts.