I could have chosen any class, but I chose the most perverse one

Ivanhold's eyes, cold as ice and glowing with blue energy, lock onto Deedee Lang, and the world seems to stop. In that gaze, there’s an intensity that overwhelms her, an invisible current connecting them both.

It’s a moment that stretches into a deafening silence, broken only by the rapid beating of Deedee’s heart and the biting cold that seems to envelop everything around them.

Kanna turns toward the newcomer, following the icy gaze of the mage. Strauss’s telepathic warning keeps her on edge. She knows she’s facing a delicate situation, an emotional bomb ready to explode.

Despite the wounds caused by the ice needles, she quickly reaches her friend, bracing herself for the worst.

"Deedee! You’re here..." her voice falters as she sees her friend’s face, completely shattered by the encounter with her past.

"Ivanhold..." Deedee whispers, as if saying his name could break the spell of this surreal moment. Her heart races, trying to comprehend the impossible. Despite the years that have passed, despite the death that separated their paths, she recognizes him instantly. Every fiber of her being knows it’s him. The way he moves, the set of his shoulders, the grace in his gestures... It’s Ivanhold, the man she loved.

"Yes... it’s him," Kanna confirms in a low, grave voice.

Deedee clenches her fists, the pain and rage swirling inside her like a storm.
"This can't be real..." she mutters, but the cold bite of reality is too sharp to deny. Before her stands not the man she once knew. No longer the companion with whom she shared moments of happiness. That figure now belongs to death.

Kanna watches Deedee’s face twist, marked by the pain that is consuming her. She knows her friend has never fully recovered from the loss of Ivanhold. She never imagined that fate would bring him back into their lives in this way.

It’s a wound being violently torn open again.

"Deedee, listen to me," Kanna’s voice is firm but gentle, trying to calm the emotional storm she sees in her friend’s eyes.

"He’s not him anymore. Ivanhold is dead. What you see now… is just a zombie controlled by the Lich."
But Deedee can’t look away from Ivanhold. Every movement of the mage, every gesture, evokes memories of the past.

Behind that icy exterior, behind those mechanical motions, she can still see the man she loved. "I... I loved him, Kanna..." she confesses, her voice broken, almost suffocated by the truth trying to surface through the pain.

At those words, the magical tattoo on the green-haired woman’s neck appears, the mark of her contract with Strauss, and it begins to pulse with a violet light. First faint, then increasingly intense, like a warning.

It’s the sign of her rebellion, a forbidden act against the bond that ties her to her Master. Deedee is betraying that contract with her words, with her feelings for a man who is no longer there.

Kanna realizes it immediately. She knows how dangerous this moment is. Deedee’s emotions, her love for Ivanhold, are breaking the bond with Strauss, and the magic of the demonic contract does not forgive.

"He’s dead. Now, for us, there is only Strauss," the professor insists, trying to reason with her. She tries to bring her friend back to reality, to save her from a destruction that could consume her, but Deedee isn’t listening. She’s trapped in a past that no longer exists, in a memory now twisted by the horror of undeath.

The dead mage rests the tip of his staff on the ground. A dull sound echoes through the tense silence. Then, slowly, his mouth opens. The voice that emerges is cadaverous, deep, and sends chills through everyone present.

"The winter rose."

Kanna turns pale.

Those words sound like a nostalgic melody. Only those who truly knew him can understand.

The winter rose... a flower that shouldn’t bloom in the freezing cold, yet it does. A miracle of nature or of the dungeons, and a symbol of the love Ivanhold had for Deedee. It bloomed in Tsaryava, Ivanhold’s homeland, now crushed by the mighty Celestial Empire.
From that flower, Ivanhold had drawn inspiration for his most powerful magic, the Northern Rose.

The mage’s words echo in Deedee’s mind, awakening memories she had tried to bury.

Ques, the Lich, watches the scene with growing irritation.
"Who told you to speak?" he scolds, annoyed by the mage’s behavior.

He hadn’t ordered his zombie to talk, and what’s happening unnerves him. Ivanhold should be nothing more than a tool, a mere puppet, a servant without will, yet there’s something different about him in that moment. A trace of personality? An echo of his former life?

The dead mage doesn’t respond to the Lich. His gaze remains fixed on Deedee.
He stands still, and the air around him grows even colder. Frost crystals begin to float in the air, as if responding to a silent command.

Ivanhold, or the simulacrum of what remains of him, stands tall in his magical power, and for a moment Deedee hopes—prays—that there is still something of him left, something that can be saved.

The look the zombie gives Deedee is empty, devoid of emotion, while for her, each second of that eye contact is torment, a violent return to the past.

"To whom are you loyal?" the Lich asks, his voice sharp and cruel.

"Azherie Loree’nahil," Ivanhold responds, his voice flat and lifeless.

For a moment, the Lich flinches, expecting a different answer, but what he received is correct, though it doesn’t fully satisfy him.

Ques stares at Ivanhold, seeking reassurance that he has full control. But there’s nothing. The zombie looks at him with an impassive expression, showing neither rebellion nor submission.

Ques clenches his fists in frustration, then, after a moment of hesitation, commands: "Kill them all."

The mage turns toward his enemies, his icy eyes briefly landing on Kanna and Deedee for a cold, fleeting moment. But in that gaze, there’s no recognition, only an indifference that makes Deedee's heart tremble. There’s no connection, no memory of the past. Ivanhold is there, but at the same time, it’s as if he never existed for her.

His staff begins to glow with a cold light, like ice, reflecting in the empty eyes of the undead mage. Every movement is without hesitation, every gesture that of a machine, not a man.

Kanna watches the situation with growing despair.
"We can't beat them like this," she murmurs aloud, feeling the weight of what lies ahead.

They know that as long as the Lich and Ivanhold are together, they are impossible to defeat. The skeletal soldiers keep rising, while the ice’s protection makes the Lich untouchable.

Welze, tired and wounded, approaches Kanna, her breath short. "What do we do then? We can't keep fighting these skeletons forever."

Kanna shakes her head, trying to stay calm. "We can’t face Ivanhold and the Lich at the same time. We need to separate them."

Above, Xiaikai and her fire spirit, Tersiflare, hover in the air. Her eyes narrow as she closely watches Ivanhold’s movements.

"I can obliterate the skeletons and the Lich, but we need to deal with the wizard first," Xiaikai states with calm confidence, while the fire around her intensifies. Tersiflare’s flames dance more fiercely, responding to the words of her summoner.

Kanna turns toward the blue-haired girl, thinking quickly. Welze isn’t strong enough to fight Ivanhold; she’s not under a contract with Strauss, and her power level isn’t high enough. The only ones who can do it are Xiaikai and Deedee. Maybe Luysia.

But as Kanna tries to plan, she knows well that Ivanhold is no ordinary opponent. Deedee might have the strength to face him, but in what state is the huntress? Her heart is torn, her mind divided between the past and the present. Meanwhile, the Lich remains too great a threat to be ignored. His skeletons keep regenerating, requiring immense firepower just to survive.

"Xiaikai, can you handle the mage?" Kanna asks, her voice full of hope.

"I have to," Xiaikai responds firmly. Tersiflare burns more fiercely, ready to unleash her fiery fury against the two women’s former companion.

Then Kanna turns to Deedee, seeing the torment in her friend’s eyes. "Deedee, you have to help her. You’re the only one who can. I know it’s hard for you, but you have to do it. Ivanhold isn’t himself anymore. He’s just a weapon, a tool. You need to face him and take him down."

But Deedee doesn't respond.

Her mind is far away, in a place where the past and present blur together. The contract tattoo glowing on her neck flashes furiously. It's a warning, a sign that she's violating the bond with Strauss. Her inner rebellion is visible, but the weight of her emotions is too overwhelming for her to react.

Kanna’s heart grows heavy as she watches her friend. She knew it would be difficult, but she never imagined it would be this painful. "Deedee," she murmurs, trying to reach her, but the officer is lost in her thoughts, chained to the memory.

Deedee begins walking toward Ivanhold in a catatonic state, ignoring the desperate voices of her companions. The tattoo that binds her soul to Strauss Wagner glows with a violet light, pulsing more intensely as she gets closer to the mage. It’s as if every step toward him tears a piece of her heart away, but she can’t stop.

Kanna desperately tries to reach her with her voice, but Deedee is completely disconnected from the reality around her. The only thing that matters to her in that moment is the man she once loved, now standing before her.

Kanna feels a growing sense of panic. Despite Strauss’s orders to keep the situation under control, she senses that everything is spiraling out of control.

She’s lost Deedee.

The ranger’s steps are slow, as if every movement toward Ivanhold is an emotional torment.
As she advances, Deedee’s mind is overwhelmed by memories: the nights spent wrapped in each other’s arms, the stolen moments between adventures, the sweet, intimate whispers they exchanged when they believed they had all the time in the world. Now, none of it makes sense anymore.

The Lich’s skeletons standing between her and the mage fall one by one, struck down by her bow-sword. The enchanted metal slices through bones without hesitation, but Deedee’s eyes never leave Ivanhold. It’s as if nothing happening around her matters. Nothing, except him.

Kanna tries again to call her, to bring her back to reason, but Deedee doesn’t listen. Her words fall into the void, suffocated by the intensity of the pain the policewoman is experiencing. Every step she takes feels like another step toward her own downfall.

When she finally stops, just a few steps away from Ivanhold, tears begin to stream down her face. Her eyes fill with sorrow, her expression one of disbelief, as if she still hopes to see a spark of humanity in the mage’s cold gaze.

“W-who the fuck are you?” she whispers in a broken voice, already knowing the answer but hoping, against all logic, that there’s still something left of the man she loved.

Ivanhold raises his staff, and the cold light it emits reflects the death inside him. Every movement is devoid of emotion, as if he is nothing more than a tool, a soulless weapon.

“Summer is buried there, centuries deep;
A crypt of years where seasons sleep.”

The sound of his words overwhelms her. The cold they carry is not just physical but emotional. The voice she once loved is now stripped of all warmth.

Yet Deedee doesn’t notice. She doesn’t see the imminent danger, doesn’t realize that Ivanhold is casting a deadly spell.

Kanna, Xiaikai, and the others shout warnings, but Deedee doesn’t hear them. She is completely absorbed by Ivanhold’s presence.