A Witch That Is Good at Hunting

Chapter 26: Final Test (9)

Life and death.

Beginning and end.

Alpha and Omega.

In the abyss where the first and the last coexisted, the Witch of Distortion opened her eyes.

Nothing could be seen.

Yet everything was visible.

The myriad things of creation passed before her eyes as though brushing against them.

It was the truth that countless witches had risked their lives to pursue.

Sestria reached out her hand. It did not touch. Like her own distortion, which she took pride in, her fingertips seemed bent.

“…!”

At last she sensed an extraordinary aura behind her. Feeling the hair on her skin rise, Sestria turned.

Something stood there, staring at her. When she too looked upon it,

“You are… ah. Ah.”

Sestria lost all words. She dropped to her knees, grinned foolishly, and raised her hand to her eyes.

Crunch.

She laughed shrilly and plucked out her own eyes. Blood spurted, nerves trailing from the sockets.

“Kyaha! Kyahahaha!”

After sight, reason was lost as well. Sestria recalled her happiest moments and cackled.

Then the memory slipped away.

A human who loses memory is denied existence.

“Ahhh…! Ah, eugh. Hhkk… hhhk.”

After laughing for a long time, the witch began to cry endlessly like a castaway lost at sea.

Soon her hands and feet began to rot and regenerate. Her fingertips turned black, then blossomed with flowers that bloomed and withered, alternating between stench and fragrance.

In eternity, Sestria bloomed and withered again and again. She felt none of it.

This was the eternal realm where beginning and end coexisted.

She was a child, then an old woman, then a maiden, then a grown woman. In her endless cycle of growth and decay, something reached for her. The decayed flesh split like water before its touch.

That something split her chest, crushed her bones, and pulled out none other than the witch’s heart.

With empty eyes, it brought the heart to its mouth.

* * *

Ding―!

Ding―!

A sharp bell rang the alarm. An unprecedented crisis. At the sound, the hunters of the Silver Blades hurried to move.

An emergency decree fell upon Vilnogos.

The bell of the Silver Tower where the Captain resided, rang without stopping, proof of the crisis.

The ringing of that bell meant an enemy attack.

It had rung more than ten times already. That meant a witch had appeared.

Captain Morgana quickly grasped the situation and summoned the hunters. At first she sent the veterans who were stationed at the examination grounds, but this was a mistake.

A fifth-rank witch making an appearance directly to the Order’s headquarters was beyond her expectations. Such a powerful witch could slip past even Morgana’s foresight and instincts.

No matter how battle-hardened those veterans were, unprepared they were nothing more than playthings before a witch of the fifth rank.

The worst situation.

Other hunters dying was of no concern.

What mattered most was not losing Nike.

If he were lost, it would bring about an irreparable catastrophe.

Morgana prayed against the worst outcome as she led the hunters swiftly toward the Dark Forest.

This time she knew which witch it was, and the troops were fully prepared accordingly. They would not be as helpless as before.

“There! Over there!”

But it turned out that the troops Morgana had brought weren't needed.

“This is…”

The situation had already ended.

The forest was soaked with blood. Bodies lay scattered everywhere.

The flesh of familiars was ripped apart and strewn across the woods.

Carlton, who had his whole body blackened, was clearly not breathing.

Hans had lost an arm and lay unconscious. Maximilian was gravely wounded and collapsed.

Rowen, who had been entrusted with Nike, clutched an arm consumed by magic and lay groaning in sleep.

And…

‘Where is Nike?’

The most important person was missing.

Sestria too was nowhere in sight.

The condemned slowly looked around. Traces of magic were everywhere, it was signs of a fierce magical battle.

Yet there were other traces that defied explanation.

‘It’s something… I’ve never felt before.’

It was so alien, so beyond recognition, one could not even be sure it should be called a trace.

“Search the area. Find the gray-haired boy. I will inspect this side myself.”

“Yes, Captain!”

After sending the others to spread out, Morgana began searching for the strange presence.

“…!”

She had not walked far before she discovered it.

It was so black that it warped light itself, a depth of darkness that made the space around it seem foreign. It laid in the very middle of the forest.

At first it could not be seen because the surroundings were dark, but when she drew close she realized it was no ordinary shadow.

It was like a piece torn from a painting, so absolute that even when she lit a fire, the flames meant nothing.

Around it the forest brightened, but that one darkness swallowed the light whole.

Morgana frowned and studied the abyss.

“…!”

Soon the condemned bled from the nose, and even her main body back at headquarters did the same.

Just staring at it overloaded the brain. Morgana realized how dangerous it was and immediately set up a barrier.

No one could approach this area, and nothing from within could interfere with the outside. She took her precautions carefully.

The alien darkness before her was in the end, an energy mass.

In principle, it was not unlike other things. One could disrupt it with magic, cut the circuits, and dismantle it.

But it was not as simple as she thought. When she injected magic into it, the darkness devoured the energy and grew larger.

“…”

What was this?

Even a witch who had lived over three hundred years could not understand this power. As she pondered how to deal with the mystery, the darkness scattered away like a lie.

When it vanished, what appeared at its center was a white-haired boy.

It was Nike.

He lay asleep without consciousness.

But his appearance was strange. There were no wounds, no traces of battle. He breathed gently, pure and unmarked.

Yet around him trees were broken, blood spattered, and bones and flesh mingled with sand…

‘It looks as if he had nothing to do with this place.’

Morgana turned again, searching for Sestria.

She saw nothing. Only endless darkness and a dead forest. Instinct told her that Sestria could no longer be found.

Sestria had certainly been annihilated.

All signs suggested Nike had defeated the witch, but he was sleeping peacefully without a scratch. It was maddening.

No explanation could account for such a phenomenon.

Morgana moved the condemned and placed a hand on Nike’s forehead.

Her eyes widened slightly.

‘This is…’

How much time passed?

From afar, voices called.

“All survivors are secured!”

“And the dead?”

“...Only Chief Instructor Carlton. The rest are gravely wounded but will live!”

A few deaths were trivial.

As long as Nike was safe, that was enough.

It was good that the precious hound had not been taken by a witch. But…

‘It feels as if something far more serious has happened.’

Morgana recalled the strange presence she had sensed in Nike.

The boy’s mysterious nature.

He had always been unknown, but now she confirmed that something deeply dangerous had taken root within him.

It was something even she might not be able to withstand.

What had Sestria faced at the end?

‘...For now, we must withdraw.’

The condemned lifted Nike with telekinesis and turned back.

“Well done everyone. The search party will remain and look for traces of intrusion. The guards will hold the Dark Forest. The rest, return to the Order.”

* * *

What spread before the eyes was a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood.

Under the setting sun, streams of blood flowed like rivers.

Crows circled the silent land, eyeing the piled bodies.

They had not yet begun to feast only because a human remained nearby.

That human was Vigo, the one who had painted this carnage.

‘…My throat is parched.’

It was the toll of fierce battle. The scars on his face had increased once more, adding another mark to his glory.

Groaning, Vigo sat upon the heap of corpses. A crow alighted on his arm.

Weariness deepened on his scarred face. A beast that approaches him despite his appearance was proof it served a witch.

“Speak.”

From the crow’s beak came a voice.

— Sir Vigo, I bring urgent news.

“What is it.”

Lighting a cigarette, Vigo rubbed his brow.

— The Order has been attacked. The assailant was the Witch of Distortion, Sestria. It seems her purpose was to abduct Nike.

Shock flickered in Vigo’s eyes. This was far graver than he had expected.

For a witch to attack the Order’s headquarters directly, that had not happened since the holy war a hundred years ago.

“And?”

— Fortunately, the casualties were limited to two hunters. Nike is safe.

“…”

Only then did Vigo exhale, taking a long drag. Smoke scattered into the sky like his sigh of relief.

Thoughts and emotions clashed. His head grew hot.

The more time passed, the more questions rose.

What was Nike?

What was he, for the Witch of Distortion to invade the Order itself?

Was she the one who set fire to the village of Sinain?

Could it be…

“Also, it’s strange.”

— What is?

“As you said, I came to Annart to find someone who knew Nike. But when I found him, the man was torn to pieces, already dead.”

Ssss, whoosh.

He exhaled smoke again. The crow followed his gaze to the countless corpses.

“And then these things came for me.”

He kicked one over to reveal the body.

It was a headless corpse that belonged to an ordinary man. He wore a black robe, and on his forearm was a distinctive tattoo.

A great eye within a triangle.

— The Eye of Providence… You were attacked by the Golden Dawn?

“Yeah.”

And it was not only one who had that tattoo. Every scattered corpse bore the same tattoo.

It meant they were one faction. Vigo had slain them all after their assault.

“The Golden Dawn erased Nike’s trace. And by coincidence, a witch attacked the Order to take him.”

— What a coincidence indeed.

“A hundred years since such coincidences last overlapped. It’s rather shocking.”

As the cigarette burned down, their words dwindled. Both were thinking the same.

“Morgana.”

After a brief silence, Vigo spoke calmly.

— You may speak.

“Are the Golden Dawn and Sestria allied?”

— …That cannot be said for certain. Even within the Golden Dawn, the witches and creeds differ by branch. They may share the same target but for different reasons.

“I thought as much.”

— This affair will reach even the ears of the Hall of the City God. The Golden Dawn, the witches, and now the Hall of the City God. It’s only getting more difficult as time goes on.

Vigo rose and brushed himself off.

“That only means the end draws near. The vermin cannot help but crawl out already. Nike is serving well as bait.”

His expression looked almost satisfied as he said it.

“I will return at once. Guard Nike carefully. Watch the Golden Dawn too. Soon we will strike them.”

— Will you declare a war?

“No… I have raised the hound, so I’ll put it on loose.”