In the heart of the campus, amid the gentle hum of scholarly conversation, Betsy tilted her head slightly. "Really? I always thought it was succubi who were the frivolous ones," she retorted with a playful glint in her eye.
Betsy hadn't spoken of her invention—a unique branch of Psychic Magic—in many years. Yes, she had indeed created it, a considerable time ago.
She had been seventeen, and just two months after rising to the rank of Advanced Mage I, she had quickly ascended to Advanced Mage III. She was brimming with pride, certain of her genius. Arthur, however, had a different perspective.
He had told her, “Betsy, true genius isn't about imitation; it's about creation. Prove your talent by forging a new magic.”
Arthur's challenge wasn't without merit. A quick flip through the "Comp
