Witchbound Villain: Infinite Loop

“There was no one who taught you about Force before?” Burn asked as he escorted Morgan back to her room. They left Yvain to train alone since there was no longer a point for Burn to teach him more than that for now.

Morgan chuckled. “As you know, I have no talent in it. My body couldn’t even muster a proper push-up.”

“But how could no one, ever, tell you about it?” Burn was a bit suspicious of the woman’s social circle. She was the legendary witch; there was no way she had no basic in-depth knowledge about Force at all.

“Every Force user… no, anyone who was knowledgeable about Force, took one look at me and deemed me completely hopeless, refusing to elaborate,” Morgan explained.

She turned to Burn and narrowed her eyes. “If we didn’t have this relationship, I’m quite certain you would do the same.”

Burn didn’t refute that. It was indeed a complete waste of time to teach someone so untalented.

“I thought all this time, Force users are muscle brains who only had physical training in their mind… apparently not,” Morgan remarked, her tone laced with admiration despite a subtle hint of insult.

Burn didn’t refute her comment, acknowledging the perception many held about Force users. He understood the misconceptions surrounding their training and abilities, which often overshadowed the nuanced understanding that actually defined their practice.

“Well, compared to Vision users who placed their trust in what God gave them, believing that their journey would be equal, Force is the complete opposite. We acknowledge our limitations and work around them. There’s nothing equal about it at all,” Burn explained.

Morgan, impressed by Burn's insight, hummed in a beautiful melodious tone, her eyes reflecting the fading light of the setting sun, “Hmm~ You must be suuuuuper talented.”

“I am not,” Burn suddenly refuted.

The solemn ambiance deepened as they paused. Their intertwined arms as they walked back to her room were painted in hues of red and gold, signaling the approaching dusk. 

"My body was average. If I went to any Force user or teacher, they would likely refuse me," Burn said. "But... no one actually told me that I was hopeless. The people around you are wrong."

Somehow, Morgan was left breathless.

"You mean..." Morgan whispered. "Even someone like me... can learn Force art?"

Unbeknownst to her, her face was flushed. There was nothing but pure excitement and admiration in her bluest of blue, and it somewhat made Burn feel a little better.

Little did he realize, he was a tad irked that everyone around her had told her that mastering Force art was out of her reach, deeming her hopeless.

“There’s no equality in Force art, but everyone can give it a try. Someone with no legs can learn, someone with no arms too. They might seem hopeless, but the possibility is never zero,” Burn cleared his throat, “Even though you have zero talent…”

By the way, Burn's subtle jab at Morgan's talent brought a chuckle to her.

"But what if my body can’t gather or generate mana at all?" Morgan asked softly.

"Try to supply it from your Vision. I’m sure you can start with that," Burn said.

"You can do that?" Morgan gasped in admiration again.

"Like you can supply mana from outside, like Mana potions, and my kisses, I’m sure you can also support it from elsewhere," Burn answered.

"That’s so cool!"

"And by the time you master your body, I’m sure you will be able to generate and gather mana with your body too."

"You think so?"

"Yes."

"Caliburn, you’re so smart!"

"I just refuse to be stupid."

"Heheheh, a genius is different after all~"

"Heh."

***

As planned, the next week, they began their march to Inkia. Despite Burn's assertion that Morgan and Yvain were not needed, they insisted on joining, leaving the three kingdoms under the supervision of Burn’s men.

Before setting off, Morgan prepared a collection of enchanted artifacts for Yvain and Burn to wear. However, Burn felt no need to adorn himself with any and graciously allowed Morgan to bestow them upon his knights.

Yvain received a new scepter, while Galahad and the others who accompanied them to war received enchanted rings, earrings, brooches, and garments.

“You said you didn’t have access to your treasures yet, correct?” Burn inquired as Morgan added additional enchantments to his armor. “Where were they stored?”

It was the first day of their march, with night descending upon them.

“They’re far,” Morgan remarked, pausing her hand.

“Far?” Burn blinked. “You’ve regained your strength, so I assume you can travel anywhere in a matter of seconds with your magic, can’t you?”

“It’s beyond the reach of magic,” Morgan scolded, slapping his arm lightly, “Stay still, I need to concentrate.”

Despite Burn's initial refusal of her artifacts, Morgan insisted on imbuing his equipment with enchantments instead. They were sitting in front of a fire, chatting among themselves while the others prepared the campsite.

Yvain was nowhere to be seen after saying he wanted to see how the food would be cooked, and Galahad ran around supervising things. It was quite peaceful around Burn and Morgan.

“If you have to go to retrieve your treasures to help you recover better after the aftereffects of the curse, just go. Yvain is safe with me,” Burn said.

“I know. That’s not what I’m worried about,” Morgan finished her enchantment. Immediately, the expensive mithril armor he bought from the outsiders now felt as light as a feather but still had a protective sensation while wearing it.

It seemed that she reduced friction between the pieces too, allowing him to move more freely, with better sensory feedback.

“What are you worried about, then?” Burn asked.

“That I’ll be gone for too long,” Morgan answered. “I told you it’s far.”

“Where?” Burn couldn’t believe it would be that far, but when he saw Morgan sigh and point upward, he was proven wrong.

She pointed to the sky—to the moon.

"No... really?" Burn raised both eyebrows skeptically.

"I'll go grab them after we solve this loop," Morgan softly said, trying to hide her concern. "Now, hands."

Burn mindlessly extended his hands like a dog to its master, obeying Morgan's every whim without a second thought. As he let her enchant his gloves, he realized it had become a charming daily routine for him to dance to Morgan's tune, a reality that occasionally made him want to roll his eyes into another dimension. 

But he decided to save that eye-rolling exercise for later.

Morgan, on the other hand, was genuinely concerned for Burn. She knew he'd probably scoff at the sight of her "worry," but that didn't stop her from sneakily casting enchantments on every single piece of clothing he owned, even the ones he only wore to bed. Because, you know, nothing says "I care about you" like bewitching your pajamas.

Burn had heard that Vision users were only half as formidable sans their precious treasures. Yet, he couldn't help but wonder if Morgan, with her supposedly infinite soul, was the outlier in this equation.

Surprisingly, despite his stubborn resistance to being coddled, Burn couldn't deny the tangible effects of Morgan's enchantments. Maybe, just maybe, he was reluctantly warming up to the idea of having someone like her by his side. Someone who, against all odds, seemed to genuinely give a darn about his well-being.

He just needed to get used to it.

"It’s done,” Morgan said cheerfully. She stood and pulled Burn’s hand toward his tent. “Let’s go change before dinner.”

Burn simply followed her as she pulled his hand, hearing the little hums and noises she made. Not only to him, her cheerful mood affected the people around and gave them a little glimpse of heaven.

"Isn't it just grand to have an empress in charge?" Morien quipped, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

"Absolutely," Tristan chimed in with an agreeing sigh.

"The balance does seem rather delightful. No more tiptoeing awkwardly on eggshells around His Majesty," Yvolt added, a chuckle underlining her words.

"And to witness His Majesty bending to someone else's will is quite the sight, isn't it?" Galahad remarked. "A pleasant change, albeit a surprising one."

"You lot have it all wrong!"

The knights spun around at the youthful voice that interrupted their conversation. Yvain strode toward them, a half-eaten sandwich in hand, still munching away as he spoke. "It's my Master's behavior that's actually surprising."

"How so, Your Majesty?" Galahad inquired.

"You guys have only just met Master, so you're not privy to her usual demeanor.”

“She's a rather gloomy person, rarely cracking a smile unless absolutely necessary. I’ve never seen her laugh so much. And as for going the extra mile, well, that's a rarity for her, unless it involves delving into the realms of magic," Yvain explained between bites, his tone carrying a subtle hint of amusement.

"That’s… strange,” Tristan remarked, a hint of bewilderment in his voice.

He imagined that Morgan was always cheerful and radiant no matter the situation, since they often saw her sharing laughter by Burn’s side. She seemed like the sort who laughs at tempest or hurricane.

Well, if you count Burn as a storm or hurricane, then the analogy fits.

“It’s rather challenging to fathom that someone like His Majesty could actually ignite joy in another's life, don’t you think?” Morien murmured wryly.

Typically, Burn’s mere presence would drain the positivity from those around him—if there was any to begin with. He would exacerbate the situation further if the atmosphere was already gloomy.

Yet, here we have Morgan, basking in good spirits around him?

"Temper your enthusiasm for now. Remember, His Majesty remains the very essence of evil. Let’s not disregard the trials we’ve already endured," a woman's voice interjected.

Dame Landevale joined the discussion, fresh from honing her rapier. With a reassuring hand on the hilt of her sword, she remarked, "Alas, dear Miss Morgan. Her delicate heart may soon find itself shattered."

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