Can the sadness that magic cannot take away be offset by love?

The competition consists of six rounds, with only one true winner in each round—the sole contestant who takes home the prize. Therefore, there is no distinction between champion, runner-up, and third place.

Similarly, there will only be one winner at the awards ceremony after each round of competition.

The dazzling lights shone on Iris Adela, beside whom stood two solemn etiquette officers, each holding a scarlet velvet cushion. On one of the cushions lay the magical artifact Moon White Branch, supported by silver ice magic crystals, while on the other cushion was a badge shaped like half an adult's fist.

In the silence of the entire room, Mr. Iscott Clark, the chief of the Mage Tower, dressed in formal attire, gently picked up the moon-white branch badge, which symbolized the honor of the sole winner of the first round, and pinned it to the left breast of the young mage's light blue mage robe.

Iris Adela bowed slightly in respect.

Immediately afterward, Iscott stepped back, and before he finished turning to walk to the winner's side, a deafening wave of applause and cheers surged toward the young genius on stage.

The lights on the stage blurred Iris's vision, and only then did she have the real feeling of climbing step by step from that dark and sunless dungeon into the sunlight.

Then she discovered that when a person stands at a high enough height, all the gazes below—whether subtle or blatant, fearful or envious, calculating or obsequious, disgusted or admiring—are difficult to clearly enter her field of vision, because they are all blocked from her sight by the lights shining for her.

Amidst cheers from the audience, she personally picked up the real moon-white branch atop the scarlet down cushion and held it high.

This is a long-standing rule of the exchange competition: no one other than the prize owner can directly handle the prize. Therefore, Iscott did not hand over the Moon White Branch to her as he had given her the badge, but waited for her to personally pick up her own magical artifact.

The cheers suddenly erupted to a new climax, almost lifting the ceiling of the venue.

Countless cameras captured this scene, which was then spread rapidly to various news platforms.

*

Lawrence Underground City.

Saint Jess Palace, the largest building in the Lawrence Underground City, stands silently, bathed in the serene glow of the artificial moon beneath the earth.

Inside a conference hall, a circular smart screen displaying footage of an awards ceremony stands in the center of a round table, allowing audience members seated in all directions to view the screen from the best angle.

There are ten chairs with backs around this round table, eight of which are occupied.

The head seat is currently empty, and the seat to its left is also empty. To the right of the head seat sits an old man who is rubbing his sunglasses and a girl named Zhuoya who is resting her chin on her hand. The remaining six chairs are all occupied, but only one of them has a living person sitting on it.

That creature is Feng, the bat monster who implanted the subcutaneous storage device in Iris. He appears as a black-haired, red-eyed boy and is one of the members of the top ten guilds.

The Guild of Ten was the organization that ruled the Lawrence Dungeon before Iris Adela.

However, it is less of an organization and more of a consultative body composed of the ten most influential people in the Lawrence Underground City.

Of the ten people, the owner of the White Iris Restaurant, the owner of the Nose Breath Tavern, the leader of the Fiery Gang, and the leader of the Finnie Gang have all died at the hands of Iris. The bat monster with the surname Feng has no choice but to obey her. The remaining five people are under her puppet magic, and their actions and thoughts are controlled by her. Once the magic is lifted, they will be no different from dead objects.

Iris doesn't usually manage the specific affairs of the dungeon directly; instead, she delegates them to more experienced puppets.

Therefore, in this meeting room, the only people who can actually speak are Iris, the old man, Zoya, and Feng.

At this moment, Iris was on the screen, the old man and Zhuoya were watching the awards ceremony in a harmonious atmosphere, while Feng curled up in a ball, squeezed into the large chair.

He was never without fear sitting in this meeting room, after all, his seat was "just right" placed in the middle of his former colleagues—former colleagues who were actually dead, whose corpses were controlled by their masters to move like living people in the daylight, and who would no longer speak or do their own things.

Feng had to rub his fingers vigorously to relieve his tension, watching the bright luster of the moon-white branch emblem in front of the gray-haired mage on the screen.

In my lifetime... will I still have hope of regaining my freedom?

Feng, whose ethnic group had been hacked to pieces by Iris and who was now completely defenseless, smiled bitterly, a hint of despair flashing in his eyes.

During the agonizing time, the ceremony on the screen seemed to last forever. Feng's forehead was still covered in sticky cold sweat, while control of the screen had shifted to Zhuo Ya—the girl was freely browsing social media on the central screen, liking posts by Kuairis and downvoting the few derogatory comments.

The old man poured himself another cup of steaming hot tea, then leisurely picked it up and sipped it.

Feng then realized with even greater despair that today's meeting was far more than this—

Iris will come back.

Too nervous to notice, he didn't realize that before the ceremony ended, the organizers had drawn up the background for the second round of the competition, as per procedure.

They also failed to notice the fleeting glint in the old man's eyes and Zhuo Ya's thoughtful expression the moment the dungeon's background name appeared.

*

After the ceremony, Iris returned to her room, locked the door, and changed out of her more formal mage robes, putting on a more practical misty blue trench coat.

Under her gaze, the elements in the air gradually began to flow, converging on the ground and drawing a long-distance spatial teleportation array.

But she didn't rush in. Instead, she took out the Moon White Branch, sat back on the sofa, and examined it carefully for a moment.

The shape of the Moon White Branch resembles a section of white withered branch, about the length of an adult's arm and the width of two fingers.

It had once slipped through her fingers at an auction in Lawrence's Underground City.

The clandestine battle between the major families in the shadows, the leader of the Fini gang, Suffocation, Viper, forced to activate the reverse point planted by her mother for the first time, and from then on irreversibly falling into the victory, pain and despair brought to her by forbidden magic... It was by no means a pleasant memory.

Now, after being handed over by the leader of the Finney gang, fought over by the Novello and Ramirez families at the New Year's Eve party, regained by the Ramirez family, and studied by the Mage Tower, it has returned to her hands in the most radiant, open, and glorious way.

The cyclical nature of fate is truly fascinating.

The Moon White Branch is a magical artifact with a certain spiritual power. It can be used to enter into a contract with its user, after which no one other than the contract holder may use the Moon White Branch. Once the contract is signed, it can only be cancelled by the user's voluntary refusal.

At this moment, the contract status of the Moon White Branch is blank, as the user who previously signed the contract with it has cancelled the contract.

Following the method instructed by the organizers, she used flowing elements to inscribe an intricate contract array on the moon-white branch, then pricked her fingertip and dripped her blood into it.

The crimson blood droplet passed through layers of magic arrays and merged into the moon-white branch. Then, the magic arrays and the moon-white branch instantly burst into a scarlet light.

After a while, all the noise gradually subsided. Iris felt the newly established connection between the magical artifact in her hand and herself. After confirming that the contract was established, she began to observe the state of the Moon White Branch more closely.

Legend has it that the Moon White Branch can turn all living things within its gray mist coverage area into dead things, and then make all living and dead things disappear without a trace. Only the moon-white glow emitted by the Moon White Branch itself can dispel the gray mist.

Now that she has entered into a contract with it, Iris has a more concrete understanding of the essence of its function: to absorb life force and matter.

When all life force is absorbed, living things die; when matter is absorbed, all tangible things disappear.

Iris pondered the word "absorb" for a moment.

Before absorbing substances, does the Moon White Branch need to transform the matter into another state of existence? Where does the absorbed life force and matter go afterward?

The conservation of matter is an immutable truth. Matter cannot appear or disappear out of thin air. Even magic is merely the transformation of matter in nature into another form of existence.

Therefore, what is absorbed by the Moon White Branch will not disappear into thin air; it will either dissipate into the outside world, be stored somewhere in the magical artifact, or be transformed into another form of existence...

She needs to verify these possibilities one by one.

As an energy-storing magical artifact, each activation of the Moon White Branch requires the consumption of its previously accumulated energy.

Its current energy storage progress is as follows:

Nine percent.

Although the Moonlight Branch can be used as much energy as it has accumulated, without needing to wait for the progress bar to be full, but...

Iris stared at the long-term artifact in silence for a moment, then thought to herself with a self-deprecating smile, "I hope that the Moon White Branch won't be fully charged before I die."

*

Lawrence Underground City.

When the figure in the main seat appeared, everyone present, including non-humans, instantly straightened their posture.

Good afternoon, everyone.

The hem of the misty blue trench coat cascaded down onto the meticulously arranged chair, uniquely elegant among all the seats. The person who sat down propped their arm up, casually resting their chin on their hand.

"Let's talk about everyone's work in the second round of the competition. I'm sure you all already know where the second round will be held."

Under the solemn gaze of the crowd, Iris Adela shifted her eyes slightly, her gaze landing on the girl beside the old man:

“First, Zoya Prague…”

*

Not long after the awards ceremony ended, at a small stall outside the competition venue, a young man was busily preparing the juice he would be selling. He was cutting watermelons on the cutting board, pressing the juicer, and peeling grapefruits. The small stall was surprisingly lively despite his busy schedule. The handwritten sign for "Emotional Relief" in front of the stall was clearly visible in the sunlight.

The heartbroken boy caught sight of the old man slowly making his way towards the stall and immediately burst into tears:

"Teacher! You're finally back! Quick, put on your gloves, we've been overwhelmed with orders!"

The old man, who had just come out of the ceremony, stroked his beard and tilted his head in confusion:

"What do you mean by a surge in orders?"

The young man was filled with shame and indignation: "When I was ordering takeout just now, I accidentally registered a takeout license for our stall, and now a lot of people have placed orders... Oh no, teacher, please don't put on your gloves yet. Could you please figure out how to turn off this automatic order acceptance first?"

The old man glanced at the young man's smart network, frowned at the long list of pending orders, and at that moment he did not realize the seriousness of the matter.

An hour and a half later, the old man rubbed his hands, which had gone numb from constantly cutting fruit, and turned to ask, half-accusingly:

"My dearest student, do you have a lot of complaints about the paper I assigned you, to the point that you're resorting to some underhanded tactics to get back at your elderly teacher?"

The boy, who was shaking lemonade to the point of collapse, almost fainted upon hearing this, but was pulled up by the agile "old man," who quickly poured a bottle of recovery potion down his throat. Then he heard his dearest teacher attacking his mental world once again:

How come your physical fitness is worse than mine?

"..."

Therefore, when Ernest arrived at the stall, he saw a boy who looked utterly hopeless and an old man who seemed quite content.

When the customers around him bought juice, they all relied on their own vision to identify what kind of fruit was in the juicer and then called out the corresponding "emotion" next to the fruit. The old man noticed that only he first looked at the "repentance" sign before turning to look at the fruit behind the sign.

“A cup of 'repentance',” he said.

The old man stroked his beard again, got up to prepare the grape juice for him, and handed it to him personally. As he removed his disposable gloves, he muttered to himself:

“I have never agreed with your topic… Emotions that have already been generated cannot be offset by anything, not even magic. Even if magic exhausts all means to cover up and hide existing emotions, it can never truly eradicate the pain or joy that the past has brought to people, nor can it shake the influence of those things that have touched people.”

Ernest listened to these pointed words, watching the old man's retreating figure with only a slight smile on his lips, while the young man beside him broke down and screamed for the umpteenth time:

"Why didn't you tell me the topic wasn't right during the proposal defense?! Aa ...

"I've already come along to practice, what more do you want—"

"Furthermore, I don't think there's anything wrong with my research topic. Since the impact of past experiences is unshakeable, we should focus on creating new impacts to dilute the old ones. We can't just watch the rotten roots grow untreated and remain indifferent to the disastrous consequences without taking any steps to salvage the situation."

"Don't worry, I didn't say your topic was completely unworkable—look, my point of view is about the 'existing', while your point of view is about the 'future'..."

"Teacher, could you please finish what you were saying in one go? I've already planned out how to face my parents' disappointed looks when I pack my bags and go home—"

"Stop, stop, stop! Where did we get to this point?!"

No one remembered that payment was due, so Ernest placed the cash on the table and quietly left amidst the bickering of the teacher and students who had come to experience life.