By the ti Yvette returned to the mansion, dusk had fully sunk into the earth, and the town’s dim, yellow lights were flickering on here and there. In the damp, murky air, those lights blurred and bled together like diluted pus, staining the potholed streets into patches of indistinct, dirty glow.
She pushed open the creaking wooden door and stepped into the foyer, telling the two maids to settle their own dinner and not to worry about her. Up to now, she still hadn’t been able to accept the Western Continent’s culinary style of insects, sli, and various bizarre pickled things as staple food, so she had simply decided to fast.
Shana and Mira nodded quickly, their expressions looking like they wanted to speak but were holding back. Yvette glanced at them and said, “If you have sothing you want to ask, just ask.”
Shana was the first to speak. Strong curiosity flashed across her mature, composed features as she asked, “Lady Witch, what… exactly are you? You don’t have any magic patterns on you, so you don’t look like an Awakened. And even if you were an Awakened, I’ve never heard of anyone in our clan with thods like yours.”
Yvette pondered for a mont before slowly saying, “I am not an Awakened. I am the executor of the Goddess’s will. My power all cos from the great God of Serendipity, the Silver Witch.”
Shana and Mira both froze, then repeated quietly, “The Goddess…”
It surprised them a little, but the more they thought about it, the more sense it made. With power that defied common sense like this, other than divine Benediction, there really didn’t seem to be any other explanation.
Besides, the Silver Witch’s connection with the Supre Demon King ran deep. Compared to the Demon Gods, who didn’t particularly favor the demon race, the Silver Witch was indeed more trustworthy.
Seeing their dawning understanding, Yvette added, “As long as you devoutly make contributions to the Goddess, you will also receive powerful Benedictions.”
“We’ll also receive them?” Shana and Mira’s faces lit up with joy at the sa ti.
They had been willing to serve as clergy of the Silver Witch Church, chanting doctrine and preaching in Mudmouth Town, but that was only because the Witch had told them to. It wasn’t because they themselves had any particularly strong devotion to the Goddess. But now it was different—believing in the Goddess and serving Her could actually bring them tangible benefits. How could they not be devout?
Yvette nodded.
“We’ll do our best, Lady Witch!” The two cousins said at once, bowing deeply.
Soon, after giving a morale boost to the only two church staff she currently had on the Western Continent, Yvette sent them off to rest and went alone up to the second-floor balcony.
The night breeze, tainted with a faint sour tang, blew gently, tugging at her loose hair. She gazed down at the small town shrouded in toxic miasma, where only scattered lights flickered in stubborn struggle. Then she took out a cushioned lounge chair from her divine realm and slowly sat down.
She opened her palm, looking up at the hazy stars, and silently began running anti-elent simulation tests, inputting the latest batch of experintal data.
Unlike her past rune compilation work, destruction magic based on anti-elent had no reliable theoretical frawork.
In other words, Yvette could only rely on constant hands-on experintation for this magic, then feed the results back into her work. It was basically brute-force enuration. The amount of tedious detail involved was obvious.
Thinking of the countless years to co, all of them to be spent just like this—relentlessly checking calculations, fine-tuning the properties of anti-elent, and figuring out workable destruction magic applications—she couldn’t help feeling a bit lancholic. This was so boring. When was the last ti she’d lived this hard a life?
Hmm… it almost went back to her previous life doing food delivery… Of course, that period had been even more “beast-of-burden” than this, especially when she did express deliveries… Yvette mused. She’d thought that after more than a thousand years, she would’ve forgotten those days completely. But maybe because this last millennium had been too monotonous, with no real points of mory, she’d sohow retained a few impressions of her wage-slave past life. She honestly didn’t know what to say about that.
Fine. Then she’d use it as fuel for “rembering hardship and cherishing the present.”
Still, there was so good news. She’d already discovered that using destruction magic to kill targets with higher mana pressure, especially high-rank demonic beasts, yielded more data, and more broadly applicable data at that. If she killed more high-tier units, it could slightly speed up the construction of her destruction magic system.
It was kind of like… you get more experience points from killing higher-level units?
Unfortunately, it was still just the difference between a mosquito leg and a slightly fatter mosquito leg, she thought. According to the experiences left behind by other powerhouses in the Mortal Realm, building one’s own divine spell system required a long process of insight. It was the sa as her constant accumulation of experintal data. So if she wanted to refine destruction magic, would the process really just be endless destruction, destruction, and more destruction?
Seeking truth in destruction, brushing against divinity in annihilation?
Why did that sound so much like a villain’s line?
In the days that followed, thanks to Pigoru’s death, every tavern, junk shop, and inn in Mudmouth Town centered all their gossip on the mysterious Witch who had recently taken over the town.
Everyone was convinced that with Pigoru dead, a clash between the Witch and City Lord Wev of Riftscar City was inevitable. They just couldn’t agree on who was stronger.
After all, to most people, whether it was the City Lord of Riftscar or the Witch, both were existences far beyond them. They didn’t know what rank the City Lord was, and they couldn’t tell what level the Witch’s strength was either. In the end, it all turned into a battle of impressions: the City Lord of Riftscar was the powerful, dignified local tyrant; the Witch was the mysterious outsider who’d co to seize the river, a dragon from beyond these parts.
Naturally, betting pools sprang up around this. The results weren’t clear, though—wagers on both sides were almost even, which showed that in most people’s minds, this should be a perfectly matched showdown, a spectacle that would give this idle, unchanged-for-decades backwater town sothing to talk about for many years.
But…
Unexpectedly, that much-anticipated showdown never happened.
The Witch continued to stay holed up in her mansion on the high ground, rarely showing herself. And in the days that followed, Riftscar City never sent another army—not to ntion City Lord Ironwall Wev showing up in person.
As the days went by, the townsfolk’s excited anticipation gradually cooled, replaced by deep disappointnt. So started mocking Riftscar City for “chickening out,” while others firmly believed Wev was secretly brewing an even greater storm and just needed ti to prepare.
Yvette was curious about it as well.
It just so happened that she had more or less exhausted the new batch of experintal data she’d been using. So she stopped delaying, decided to have Slippery Jim lead the way, and finally made up her mind to go to Riftscar City in person to have a little chat with this “Ironwall” Wev.
Yvette had arrived on the Western Continent in early May. The day she inford Slippery Jim to get ready to guide her to Riftscar City was set for the end of May.
She didn’t think it was anything major—it was just her own trip, and she hadn’t planned to bring anyone along. But she hadn’t expected that only a few hours after making the decision, the news that Lady Witch was about to “punish” Riftscar City would grow wings and, in less than a day, sweep through the few hundred residents of Mudmouth Town.
Even with your toes, you could guess whose doing that was: Slippery Jim’s, of course.
As the resident sli bartender at the tavern, he was really not tight-lipped—more accurately, the thought of keeping secrets had probably never crossed his mind. Yvette had told him at noon that they’d be setting out the day after tomorrow. By evening, he’d already spilled the whole story to the drinkers at the bar.
The result was that when departure day ca, Yvette had barely set off under the farewell of her two maids and hadn’t even reached the town gate yet when she saw, from a distance, a whole crowd waiting there. At their head was none other than Bobo the kobold.
“Lady Witch, are you going to cause trouble for that ‘Ironwall’ Wev?” Bobo was wearing soft armor with a sword at his waist, fully geared up. His face was a mix of fawning and excitent. “Please allow us to follow you! We’re all willing to serve you and lend you our strength!”
“Lady Witch, we want to follow you too!” the others shouted over each other. Most of them were local residents, mainly beastfiends of different branches—wolfheads, pigheads, bullheads—all dressed in ragged leather armor and gripping rusty weapons.
There were goblins and slis mixed in among them as well. All told, there were nearly a hundred of them. From the outside, the group looked quite imposing, like so kind of ragtag army.
Yvette blinked, thinking, What the hell is this supposed to be? She thought for a mont, then called Slippery Jim and Bobo over. The two of them hurried over at a trot. Bubbles kept rising inside Slippery Jim’s body; whether from nerves or excitent was unclear. Bobo’s tail was wagging so hard it was about to fall off.
“Why are there so many people?” she asked dryly.
An awkward expression rippled across Slippery Jim’s vaguely defined face, more bubbles popping constantly inside him as he said weakly, “Um… Lady Witch, I… I accidentally told them you were going to Riftscar City… and then they all just… ca along… I-I really didn’t an to…”
His voice got quieter and quieter, until it was almost inaudible at the end.
Yvette fell silent for a while, deciding not to pursue the matter of the sli leaking her travel plans—at least not for now. Instead, she said, “What I want to know is: I’m going to Riftscar City. Why do they all want to follow?”
“Lady Witch, the reasons are… complicated.” Bobo’s doggy face was full of earnestness as he tried hard to look reliable, but his tail still betrayed his excitent. “But mainly, it’s because everyone really respects and admires you.”
“Tell the truth,” Yvette said expressionlessly.
“Uh, it’s because, because…” Bobo stalled, then mumbled, “Everyone thinks you must have the support of so outland high lord behind you, that you’ve got a real chance to defeat Wev and take Riftscar City… so they all want to follow you early, earn so rit, and use it to change their lot in life in the future…”
So that’s it, Yvette thought. Clearly, these people saw a future in her and wanted to bet on her early.
For the residents of Mudmouth Town, the vast majority of them would spend their entire lives stuck in so little corner town around a transformation tower, running themselves ragged every day for a ager inco, and then dying in diocrity. In the final montage of their lives before death, they might not even get a single glimpse of the wider world beyond the do.
Now, with the Witch’s appearance, they had a chance to change their lives. Add in Bobo’s tireless hype over the last few days, and it was only natural that many would be tempted to stake everything they had to gamble on a different future.
Besides, even if they didn’t gamble now, most demons on the Western Continent were destined to rot in the mud anyway. So why not roll the dice big once?
“…Fine.” She sighed at last, her voice not loud, but clearly reaching every ear. “Then co along. Just don’t cause trouble.”
“Long live Lady Witch!” At those words, the many demon followers present erupted in cheers. They raised their rusty scrap-tal weapons high, as if they could already see a brand-new life reaching out to them from ahead.
Reviews
All reviews (0)