The priests of the White Order strode onto the stage, their movements deliberate and heavy.

On their hands were the Gauntlets of Exorcism, a symbol of their demon hunters.

Holy power radiated from them as they surrounded Erfa.

“Please remove your mask,” one of the priests said.

The tone was polite, yet chillingly stern.

“I... I’m not... I’m not...”

Erfa’s voice trembled as tears streamed down her face.

“I’m not an abomination.”

“That will be determined after we see your left face. Please do not resist. Resistance will lead the entire White Order to deem you an enemy.”

“Please! Don’t do this! Tower Master!”

Erfa’s desperate cry rang out, but orgen  only looked back at her with a face full of helplessness.

“Everyone! Please...!”

Her tearful plea reached out to the gathered mages and witches, but the response was cold.

Few showed sympathy.

Most wore mocking expressions, as if reveling in her plight.

It was in that moment that Erfa realized—Tuidel wasn’t the only one who resented her.

She had been surrounded by envy and malice all along.

“Do not resist.”

The priests moved closer, their hands reaching toward her face.

When one of them touched her mask—

“No!”

Erfa screamed, unleashing a burst of telekinetic force that sent the priests stumbling backward.

The sudden surge of magic stunned them momentarily.

“I am not an abomination!” Erfa shouted, her voice trembling with fury and desperation.

“I won’t take off this mask! I refuse to yield to such unjust accusations!”

But her defiance could not change her fate.

“Restrain her!”

The gauntlets gleamed with divine light as the priests invoked their holy power.

In an instant, glowing rings of sanctity bound Erfa’s body, paralyzing her.

She struggled, trying to break free.

She reached for her wand, intending to dispel the miraculous bindings tightening around her.

But before she could act, her wand flew out of her grasp, clattering to the floor far behind her.

Tower Master Orgen had intervened, his wand deftly disarming her.

“T-Tower Master...”

Erfa’s voice cracked with betrayal.

“I had no choice, Erfa,” Orgen said, his voice heavy with regret.

“If you truly aren’t an abomination, you have no reason to resist. Just let them remove your mask.”

“No! No! Don’t take it off!”

Erfa’s cries grew louder, more frantic.

“I’m not an abomination! You’re misunderstanding me!”

“We’ll determine that after the mask is removed.”

The priests approached her again, their movements unrelenting.

Erfa’s trembling form froze, her silver mask still in place.

And yet, the air was charged with inevitability, a verdict written before it could even be read.

The priests of the White Order stepped forward.

Among them, the one who appeared to be the leader reached out and placed his hand on Erfa’s  silver mask.

As the holy light from the Gauntlet of Exorcism surged, the binding magic on the mask—crafted by Erfa herself—was forcibly dispelled.

“No! No!” Erfa screamed, her voice desperate and raw.

But her cries could not stop what was happening.

Her mask was removed.

And before the entire assembly of the academic conference, her hidden left face was revealed.

“W-What is that?!”

“Ugh!”

“My god!”

Screams.

Gasps.

A suffocating silence.

And then—

Laughter. Cruel, mocking laughter erupted all at once.

“Look! Look at her, everyone!” Tuidel exclaimed with a triumphant grin.

“I told you, didn’t I? I told you she was hiding something disgusting!”

With a flourish, Tuidel cast an illusion spell, magnifying Erfa’s exposed face so even those at the back of the hall could see clearly.

The grotesque sight of over ten spider-like eyes embedded chaotically on the left side of her face, blinking erratically, was enough to evoke visceral disgust.

Some vomited on the spot; others fled the hall in horror.

Tuidel burst into laughter, a pure and unrestrained joy lighting up her face.

After all, her gamble had paid off spectacularly.

“Priests of the White Order!” Tuidel called out.

“What do you think? Does this look like a mere rare disease to you, or is it clearly the abomination I claimed it to be?”

The priests responded not with words but with action, intensifying the suppression spell binding Erfa.

“This is undoubtedly an abomination,” one of the priests declared.

“This is no rare disease. It matches precisely the descriptions in the records. A walking massacre with dozens of eyes. This is the form of a harbinger of calamity.”

Tower Master Orgen closed his eyes tightly, anguish etched into his face.

“What will happen to Erfa?” he asked quietly.

“She will be transported to the headquarters of the White Order and dealt with swiftly before she can bring about the calamity foretold.”

“I see,” Orgen replied, his voice heavy.

“It has already been decided by vote. The Magic Tower will support the judgment of the White Order.”

With that, orgen turned his back on Erfa and walked away.

“No! Tower Master, please!” Erfa cried, collapsing to her knees.

“I’m not an abomination! I can fix this! I’ve been researching! With more time, I can fix my face!”

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she begged.

“Please! Everyone, give me one more chance! I’m not a calamity! You all know me! I’m just an ordinary person! I’m just... I’m just...”

“An ordinary person?”

Tuidel sneered as she climbed onto the stage, towering over the broken Erfa.

“With a face like that? Should we even call someone with a face like yours ‘human’? And you’ve got four arms, too. I called you a spider before, but I never thought you’d look this much like one.”

The dozens of blinking eyes on her left and the single, tear-filled eye on her right reflected nothing but despair.

Tuidel looked down at Erfa, her expression one of euphoric satisfaction.

“You’re hideous, Erfa. Disgustingly hideous. Who would ever consider you human?”

“Enough,” one of the priests said sternly.

“Provoking the harbinger serves no purpose.”

Tuidel shrugged and stepped back, her grin unrelenting.

Erfa’s body sagged, all strength leaving her as though her very soul had shattered.

The priests lifted her with divine magic, beginning to carry her away.

The room was filled with a cacophony of reactions.

Some snickered.

Some looked on with pity.

And some were visibly pleased by her downfall.

Erfa, her face a mask of utter devastation, was dragged away by the priests.

Chaos consumed the conference hall.

And the one to restore order was none other than Tower Master Orgen.

“Due to unforeseen circumstances within the Mars branch of the Magic Tower,” he began, his voice strained with sorrow,

“the 213th Academic Conference will be postponed until tomorrow. We apologize for the delay caused by this unfortunate incident.”

With those words, Orgen announced the suspension of the conference, his voice heavy with guilt and regret.

As the academic conference dispersed in disarray, mages and witches filed out, their whispers loud and venomous.

“That girl always brought bad luck.”

“Who knew she was hiding such a hideous face?”

“Is she even human? More like a spider, really.”

The murmurs were filled with mocking laughter.

Great talent often invites envy and jealousy, and when resentment festers within a crowd, guilt becomes diluted, leaving only cruelty behind.

Among the mages and witches, there were many eccentrics, impulsive souls who acted without considering the far-reaching consequences of their actions.

Even though the priests of the White Order had clearly warned against provoking the so-called harbinger of calamity…

“Should we spread the word?”

“Imagine what people will say when they see that spider freak!”

Fueled by curiosity and spite, a group of young mages and witches decided to do the unthinkable—not because they truly hated Erfa, but because they thought it would be fun.

Their jealousy was real, but their ignorance of Erfa’s true power was even greater.

As a recluse, Erfa rarely ventured beyond the Magic Tower, except for significant occasions like the conference.

Even Tower Master Orgen, who had brought her into the Tower, didn’t fully understand the depth of her magical potential.

And so, the young mages and witches, blinded by petty grudges and naivety, followed the priests escorting Erfa.

“Stay focused,” one priest instructed the others.

“We must maintain the suppression miracle at all costs. If she breaks free, it will be catastrophic.”

The four priests poured all their energy into maintaining the divine restraints binding Erfa.

This effort left them oblivious to the young mages trailing behind, masked by cloaking spells.

The priests, having shrouded Erfa in cloth to conceal her appearance, quietly slipped out of the Magic Tower through a back entrance.

Then, just as they reached the main street—

“Now!”

A sudden burst of magical fireworks exploded into the sky.

“Remove the cloth!”

The cloth covering Erfa’s grotesque left face was torn away, exposing her to the public.

The timing was perfect. The crowd’s attention, drawn by the fireworks, immediately turned to her.

And there she was—Erfa, her left side grotesquely marked by the spider-like eyes blinking erratically.

“Oh my god!”

“What is that?!”

“Ugh!”

The crowd erupted in chaos.

The priests scrambled to find something—anything—to cover her face again, but the cloth had been whisked away by magic.

“Damn it all!” one priest cursed.

“We told you—don’t provoke the harbinger!”

“Move back! Move back! Stop gawking and disperse!” the priests shouted, but the crowd was unmoving, eager to witness the spectacle.

“What kind of monstrous face is that?”

“She’s a spider! A spider!”

“Disgusting! I’m going to lose my lunch!”

Someone threw filth.

Splat!

The muck landed squarely on Erfa’s face.

The priests’ desperate shouts grew louder.

“This is dangerous! Step back! Step back!”

But their hands were tied. All their energy was focused on maintaining the suppression miracle restraining Erfa. They couldn’t spare any power to drive away the crowd.

“Request reinforcements! Call for paladins and more priests from the nearby White Order chapels! Now!”

While the priests tried to regain control, Erfa stood there, motionless.

Covered in filth, drenched in sewage, her spirit and soul shattered beyond repair.

Meanwhile, in a nearby slum, a self-proclaimed saint was tending to the sick.

“Saint! Saint!”

A paladin, sent to investigate the witches, came sprinting toward him, panting heavily.

Oh, had they found her? Was it a black witch?

“Did you find—”

“The witch you mentioned is being pelted with filth and insults in the streets!”

“...What?”

Surely he had misheard.

A witch, someone potentially as dangerous as a ticking time bomb, was being paraded through the streets?

“A witch with four arms and a face half-covered with countless eyes is being escorted by priests of the White Order! Civilians are throwing garbage at her while mocking her! I just witnessed it on Third Street!”

“Where? Where?”

“Near the Third Street alley! But Saint, it’s dangerous to go alone—”

Before the paladin could finish, the saint had already taken off running.

“Damn it. Damn it!”

He swore under his breath as he sprinted.

She’s in the capital? That witch?

They must have discovered her because of her dark magic!

“Hang on! I’m coming!” he muttered, panic rising in his chest.

“I’ll heal you. I swear I’ll heal you! Just please—please don’t lose control before I get there!”