Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem - Chapter 1205

Chapter 1205: Scary Genius

Despite her proud declaration, Felicity soon discovered that motivation alone wasn’t enough to surpass a generational genius.

The days bled together inside the strange world of the trial, a stage replaying Morgana’s youth like a cruel theater piece.

Every morning, the little prodigy woke with radiant energy, her hair unkempt yet her eyes sharp with focus. Her spells grew stronger, cleaner, faster. The elements danced for her, looking joyful to answer her call.

And every day, Felicity mimicked her. Her form, her words, her focus. But no matter how precise she was, her spells still sputtered, lagged, and broke apart in useless bursts of color.

One afternoon, Morgana’s child form sat in the royal garden, surrounded by her parents. The Ravenshade Duke and Duchess clapped delightedly as their daughter summoned each element with elegance and ease.

“Our daughter is exceptional,” the mother said softly, pride shining in her tone. “We must hire the best tutors in the kingdom.”

“I’ll get right to it!” the father decreed.

But Morgana did not agree.

Her childish expression twisted. Her lips stretched into a manic little smile that didn’t belong on a face so young.

“No.”

Her voice came smooth, decisive.

“I refuse to be dragged down by some failure of a mage who teaches children for coin. I’ll study using only books written by the best in history.”

Her parents stiffened. The mother’s hand froze mid-applause. Even the air grew still for a moment.

“M-Morgana, dear, that’s not-”

“I said no.”

The girl turned her back to them.

Her father’s throat worked, but no words came. Both parents could only watch as their daughter returned to her chambers in silence.

…

From that day on, the young Morgana isolated herself.

Her bedroom door remained locked, and only her most trusted maid entered once a day to deliver meals, replace water, and quietly clean what she could before being thrown out.

The rest of her hours were spent in obsessive practice.

Magic drawings were visible on her walls.

Books lay strewn about the floor, opened to pages filled with theory far beyond her supposed age.

When she failed, she tried again. When she succeeded, she smiled – but only briefly – before tearing it apart to rebuild it better.

And all the while, Felicity watched.

She mimicked the movements. She studied the form. She recited the same incantations until her throat went hoarse.

Her body here did not tire. She did not need food or rest. But that only made the futility sting worse.

No matter how much she tried to follow her mother’s path, she never caught up, even though she could use the hours Morgana spent resting to practice.

…

One morning, Felicity blinked in confusion as Morgana simply… opened her window.

The girl stood on the ledge, wind tousling her hair, excitement dancing in her eyes.

“I am bored with theory.”

And with that, she leapt.

“Wait!” Felicity gasped, reaching out.

But Morgana was already falling. She released a shrill laugh as she cast the most basic of wind spells again and again. “[Gust]! [Gust]! [Gust]!” Each invocation was masterfully cast to soften her descent until she landed safely in the forest beyond the castle walls.

There, the prodigy’s childhood innocence ended.

Felicity followed, heart pounding, as Morgana began wandering into the woods.

She first killed a deer, then a boar, and next came a bear.

When a group of bandits emerged from the undergrowth, laughing at the sight of a “lost little girl,” Morgana didn’t flinch.

Her wand flicked once.

Flames erupted.

Screams followed.

Felicity could only stare.

“I… didn’t know Mother was like this even as a kid…” she whispered.

Then, the world around her shimmered, reshaping. The same bandits materialized before her, illusions of the trial, yet solid and vicious all the same.

She raised her wand, ready to fight just like Morgana. But her spells proved to be too weak to hurt the men enough to force their defeat.

She was beaten to the ground, bruised and breathless, only barely managing to keep herself from fading out.

By the time she stood again, Morgana had already been found and dragged back to the castle.

Yet even under scolding and confinement, the girl remained restless.

She would escape again.

Her parents eventually stopped resisting. The guards were assigned to secretly follow her, ensuring her safety while letting her “adventure” freely.

And so, Morgana’s legend began to bloom.

…

Days turned to weeks.

Weeks to months.

Every victory Morgana achieved in her world echoed in Felicity’s. The spells, techniques, and power she earned would be temporarily granted to Felicity by the trial itself, kept only until its end. It was a mercy gift from the system that ruled this test.

But that was all it was. Mercy.

She did not earn them.

She was given them.

And the gap between the genius and the ordinary girl only grew wider with each passing day.

…

Years slipped through the cracks of time within the trial.

The little prodigy Felicity once watched had grown. Morgana no longer looked like a child; she was a young woman now, sharp-eyed, regal, and utterly terrifying in her composure.

The court mages bowed when she entered a room.

The scholars took notes when she spoke.

And her parents… listened when she argued.

Felicity could only watch as Morgana lectured her own mother about elemental balance, gently but firmly correcting her outdated theories.

Later, Felicity saw her standing before her father and telling the man that he was being inefficient with mana distribution across the realm and that his artifact usage was ‘abysmal at best.’

Her father frowned. “That kind of integration is impossible, daughter. No mage has-”

“Impossible?” Morgana asked with dismissive eyes. “Such a word should not exist. We just haven’t invented a solution yet.”

Even her parents had no answer to that and began scribbling furiously as she proposed multiple never-before-heard theories on how each issue could be solved.

Felicity, standing in the background of this recreated history, could only grip her wand tighter.

She’d seen enough.

She knew what came next. She would soon get the Elemental Sovereign class and soar much, much higher.

And she… would still be chasing her.

The realization hit hard one evening as Felicity sat alone on the cold marble floor.

“… I can’t even keep up with her shadow.”

The words slipped out in a whisper, hollow and small.

She felt the defeat sink deep into her chest. Was this it?

She was about to accept being mediocre. Honestly, after trying for such a long time, she just wanted the simulation to end.

She wanted to joke with Feng again, to cook another cake with the maids and Rosie, to see him- her heart skipped a beat.

In her mind’s eye, the image of a man flickered.

Quinlan.

Her breath caught. And then the air before her shimmered.

A form took shape.

It wasn’t him, not really. Not the real Quinlan. But it felt like him, drawn from her thoughts, her longing, her admiration.

He sat cross-legged before her, eyes closed, calm as still water.

And yet the elements around him were anything but still.

Fire coiled behind his back like a loyal beast.

Wind brushed around his body in gentle swirls.

Water hovered, flowing in intricate spirals that caught the light.

Stone fragments floated lazily, orbiting his form with quiet reverence.

It wasn’t chaos; it was harmony. Just like how his elemental eyes swirled in perfect form. Every element danced to his rhythm, balanced by his mere presence.

Felicity’s lips parted in awe.

Compared to this man, even the adult Morgana, the terrifying prodigy she had grown up idolizing, felt oh-so painfully human.

Yes, Morgana was stronger.

Older.

More experienced.

But Quinlan…