Chapter 1524 33: The Black Prophecy Book (Part 2) - Miss Witch Doesn't Want to be a Diva - NovelsTime

Miss Witch Doesn't Want to be a Diva

Chapter 1524 33: The Black Prophecy Book (Part 2)

Author: Miss Witch Doesn't Want to be a Diva
updatedAt: 2026-03-13

The third party consists of the priests and songstresses of the Cult's 'Holy Song Court', led by the 'Seven Virtues', surrounding the new generation of songstresses.

Considering the different strengths of the three parties, currently more than half of Arosa's guards come from the Cult, used to balance the overly powerful 'Marquis Court'. After all, for the 'Holy Song Court', Arosa living is their foundation, and their influence expansion also requires Arosa's cooperation.

As for the 'Commander Court', before Blanchi's death, she meticulously arranged personnel, ensuring that the entire upper layer and most of the middle layer were loyal people. With their support of Arosa, they could suppress the many distractions and restless individuals within the Western Star Region, but these people will eventually age and be replaced. In about 20 years, Arosa will have to arrange trustworthy personnel to replace them.

"It's time to study, Lady Arosa."

In the palace adorned with white and bright yellow fabrics, ten or so maids surrounded the girl in the middle, leading her to a quiet side hall where a teacher was already waiting.

"Good morning, Teacher Mussen." The girl gently lifted her small skirt, bowed in a standard posture, and then sat on her stool, straightening her back.

"Good morning, Lady Arosa." The old man with gray and white beard returned the salutation similarly, then spoke kindly.

"Today I will explain to you the history of the Federation's founding and the various difficulties encountered during this process."

"Thank you~" Arosa replied sweetly, although the talent of the songstress was not fully mastered yet, such a childish singing voice had its own charm.

...

"...At the end of the great war, during the most difficult period of the war, although Lady Isenisha was powerful and determined, she could not withstand the fatigue of fighting multiple Black Suns."

"At this critical moment, a hero was born, piloting the relic unearthed from the ancient Mechanical Council, he charged toward the immensely powerful Black Inferno Sun, piercing that divine sun with a spiral-burning Flame Spear, ending the most formidable enemy of the Federation's pioneering era."

"What was the name of that hero?" Arosa asked curiously.

"His name was 'Adam Hughes'."

"A name with a bit of religious connotation," Arosa tilted her head in thought.

"That's right, the word Adam in ancient primitive Earth religions represented the first human. In fact, many scholars later speculated that the hero's name was never found, but to ensure the legend had no regret and was better publicized, a name was artificially given."

"So his real name is forever unknown?" Arosa blinked.

"That's right, the hero is strong because he is nameless. A hero without a name also has no weaknesses and is never subject to slander and defilement," the gray-bearded old man said profoundly.

Unfortunately, such teaching did not satisfy the maids listening on the side of the hall.

"Sir Mussen, please refrain from teaching Lady Arosa overly obscure or easily ambiguous content."

"Ah, alright, alright, I understand." He waved his hand somewhat disappointedly.

For the remainder of the time, he continued to explain the war of that Dark Age and the history of the Federation's expansion until the sound of the class bell rang.

"Oh, time's up already. It seems I'll have to continue the story for little Arosa tomorrow." Mussen raised his eyebrows playfully at the girl, then closed the book.

"Thank you for your teaching, Teacher Mussen." Though feeling a bit reluctant at the sound of the bell, Arosa quickly adjusted.

"Hmm, see you tomorrow." Mussen packed up, waving goodbye to Arosa as she left.

Leaving the study side hall, with the maids encircling and protecting her, Arosa walked through the corridor where walls on both sides displayed various potted plants, including small bright yellow daffodils and star-like Jin Yangcao, along with a large portrait of Blanchi. Every time Arosa passed by, she would pause for a moment.

"Good noon, Sister Blanchi, Arosa ate and studied well today." Then she moved forward with the maids once more.

...

Four-leaf Crystal Star Domain, Jade Skirt, South First District.

After attending the Edith Academy celebration ceremony, Tilan returned to her residence, and by now, it was afternoon, with a light rain outside.

Raindrops skittered down the glass, disappearing, journeying to unknown destinations.

Standing by the window, Tilan cradled a warm cup of red tea, her gaze finely observing the convergence and dispersal of the raindrops.

"Deloris." She called out the name of her friend.

"What's up." Deloris was sitting on the couch, removing her high heels with her hand, then placing her black stockings-clad toes on the carpet.

In the past, such behavior would've been considered improper for this young lady, but now her relationship with Tilan was particularly close, eliminating the need to maintain appearances.

"Do you remember when we were studying at Edith?"

"Yes, I remember." Deloris picked up the coffee from the table with her fingers; she preferred coffee to tea.

"We were so young back then," Tilan's voice carried a hint of nostalgia as she turned around.

"When I first went to Edith Academy, I had no idea how to interact with everyone, and I gave some rather exaggerated speeches."

Relaxing on the couch, Deloris sipped her coffee in small gulps.

"Does Tilan think her past self was naive? But at that time, you standing on the stage and speaking had a sort of radiance to it, an unblemished purity in your ideals. I liked you from that moment on."

Pushing against the carpet with her toes, then relaxing them, Deloris put down her coffee, intending to rest on the couch for a while. After accompanying Tilan through numerous events today, she was a bit tired.

Observing the young lady's uninhibited demeanor, Tilan felt a bit amused and relaxed. Perhaps now she needn't be as cautious as before to maintain anything.

Soon, Deloris nestled into the couch for a nap, her black silk gown gently rising and falling with her breath, exuding a lazy yet mature beauty.

Gazing at Deloris's sleeping face, Tilan involuntarily compared her to the young lady she remembered from high school; although Deloris had a mature air back then as well, she retained a touch of youthful sweetness. Now, her aura was noticeably more poised and leisurely.

Time flows slowly...

She looked out the window again.

Blanchi, you left this world sooner than expected. Perhaps you were prepared for it when I last saw you.

The news of Blanchi's death spread across the Federation, and upon hearing it, she found it hard to accept. Initially, the feeling was shallow, but over the past two months, sadness would creep in unexpectedly, akin to certain alcohols—without noticeable reaction when consumed but repeatedly surging up later, churning in her mind.

The familiar faces in her memories were fading away, one by one. Blanchi was gone, Ores survived but lost all past memories, now like a newborn child. The once-revered senior, Evelyn, was now missing. Prin, though they occasionally contacted each other, seemed only to drift further apart.

In youth, people often immerse themselves in the excitement and joy of experiencing new worlds, unaware that the sights they behold then may be lifetime-only vistas.

With time's passage and its gradual distancing, one day, a sudden backward glance reveals that many things, once gone, are gone forever, unlike a train with a return ticket.

Although she and Blanchi were good friends during school, they rarely spent time alone; mostly, they were in group activities. Until reflecting now, she realized she didn't truly know Blanchi.

Every seemingly ordinary person has their story, but often there isn't anyone to document it or endow it with grand significance, ultimately forgotten in the river of time with no name left behind.

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