62: Chapter 62: Magic and Witches 62: Chapter 62: Magic and Witches Learning magic requires an innate talent, much like the most primal, instinctual movents of humans.
It not only necessitates the mastery of the right posture, but when necessary, the use of certain small tools as well.
Only by doing so can magic be correctly perford.
As a power that only a few can grasp, it is a scarce and precious talent.
Not everyone has this ability, which admittedly is unfair.
Therefore, it has sparked what followed.
The ergence of the Council of Magic, driven by human greed, signified that magic had beco an essential part of human society.
Yet, even after thousands of years of inheritance, the Council of Magic couldn’t assure that magic was a controllable power.
They rely constructed a knowledge system within their capacity, providing a safe environnt for a mage to master a certain level of power and enjoy a natural lifespan.
This knowledge is monopolized by the Council of Magic, and any mber can enjoy a life superior to the average by learning from this system.
Alternatively, Wild Mages must find their path alone, sacrificing their life span bit by bit, to grow stronger.
Therefore, if one encounters a being with potent magical power in a savage place, if the individual doesn’t belong to the Council of Magic, it’s highly likely they’re sothing else altogether.
This was sothing only Rolin knew.
The more she knew, the faster she would die, this was no joke.
She had always wondered how Violet could carry such a powerful force without employing any magic other than necromancy.
Moreover, during her solitary practice, Rolin had sensed not only the terrifying fluctuations of magic power but a chilling aura of death radiating from Violet.
This further solidified the notion in her mind.
There’s no such thing as a free lunch in this world.
To receive rewards, there must be sacrifices.
Perhaps Violet’s gorgeous appearance is a re illusion, with her true identity being an Undead disguised as a human?
Beyond humans, there is only one species capable of wielding powerful magic–wich is a Lich, a being dangling between life and death.
She was almost positive that Violet couldn’t be human.
Her behavior alone was evidence enough.
The way she was indifferent towards n, as if they were unimportant.
Should she truly learn magic from her?
The thought of dealing with an Undead Lich tightened Rolin’s grip on her Magic Mace.
The Undead Liches are non-human, the most malevolent demons in the legends.
Their nefarious nature was such that even the Supre God failed to erase them.
They personify greed, death, and tyranny!
Haven’t ever dealt with an Undead Lich.
Rolin felt a twinge of unease.
Was it because deep down, she too was perceived as an evil witch?
Collaborating with evil surely was sothing a villain would do.
However, this very thought made Rolin leaning against the wall of her castle.
Others may consider her to be evil, but as long as she didn’t admit it, she was still a good person.
The nefarious labels others forced on her were nothing more than their shaless remarks.
However, if she decided to walk down that path, she would be affirming the commoners’ claim.
She was truly a witch.
An outcast wandering alone in the jungle, rejected by society, and finding solace only in the company of wicked demons.
Such is the reality of being a witch.
More importantly, while dealing with the undead might grant her what she wants quickly, wouldn’t the demons surely trap her?
Just as a mousetrap can take a mouse’s life, mice are still captivated by the bait when faced with the lure of food.
If Rolin did this, her guilt would be like that of a lowly rat.
She would be admitting that she was undeserving of her humanity.
In her remaining life, she would inevitably endure the unspeakable humiliation of being in dealings with the demon.
Before her, was a chance, a possibly toxic opportunity that could help her to survive.
Rolin realized that she was unwelco by the magical elents the last ti she perford healing magic.
It’s because the magical elents rejected her, yet she still insisted on using magic, which caused her to faint.
If it continued, she would die sooner or later.
The death of a Wild Mage is always alone and pathetic, struggling with agony in the turbulence of magic, garbed in a black heavy robe.
They light bonfires and hide in caves, not letting others see their suffering, because nobody can help them.
In such struggles, they neither eat nor drink until they are too weak to add wood to the bonfire.
And with that, the fla of life also fades away.
In the cave lay scattered books, accounting for the life of once a magical person and so humble wealth.
The corpse gradually decomposes into a skeleton, eventually becoming an undead.
Every ti Rolin thought of dying such a painful, lonely death in a cave, she shivered, her whole body trembled.
She could reject such a fate!
She must seize the opportunity right in front of her.
Rolin, hiding in the shadows, pulled her hood over.
Rarely could anyone notice her, let alone her expression while deep in thought.
That face that was usually hidden from people, except during battles, possessed a touch of naive beauty.
Her white hair was a stark contrast to her youthful appearance.
To do or not do, there’s no standard answer for what choice she should make between dilemmas.
To Rolin, it was rely a choice of which outco she was willing to bear.
To do nothing, die in fate, or bear the so-called na of a madman, changing her destiny of dying violently.
Between the two, Rolin finally released her grip on the Magic Mace, her tight grip relaxed.
That mont marked her relaxing guard and precautions.
It also denoted that she refused to fight against evil through violence but chose to accept it with arms wide open.
People often describe these Wild Mages as madn or witches.
Indeed, these labels were not wrong because they deliberately chose such a path to achieve their goal.
Was she truly going to accept all of this and beco the witch in people’s mouths?
As Rolin’s thought reached this point, she closed her eyes in anguish.
Her eyes were sour, and it seed like a tear slipped out from the corner of her eye.
The setting sun cast a long shadow over the house.
She freed one hand, letting the Magic Mace hang loose.
Eventually, she made up her mind.
To live, even if it ant being seen as a witch in society’s eyes, it didn’t matter.
As long as she survived…that was all that mattered.
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