Kapitel 78: Chapter 72: Witch
The dark clouds had gathered, merged, and materialized into a single figure. No, calling it a single figure would be somewhat misleading—it had first taken the form of several women.
No one but Profeta could recognize each of their faces, but these women were the past witches that had plagued humanity for a thousand years. Their forms had gotten tangled together until a single figure had emerged—a dark, cloudy giant that stood as tall as the firmament.
It was a gruesome spectacle.
Some witches' faces haphazardly stuck out from the giant amalgamation, while others were at the tips of tentacles that had sprouted from the giant's back. These visages were of varying sizes—some much larger than they'd been during their lives—but each had pitch-black skin and sclera, white pupils, and tears of blood that trailed from their eyes.
Alexia, who'd died a short while ago, was among them.
Cold sweat ran down Alfrea's back. "It's been a while, mother," she whispered.
She was looking at the largest face protruding from the giant's chest like a tumor. That one—a beautiful woman with cold eyes—was as big as a castle. It was Eve, the first witch. Only her daughter Alfrea and Profeta recognized her.
"That's not Eve," Profeta said. "That's just a residue."
"You're right..."
Alfrea had been reunited with her mother after a thousand years, but her mother's soul was long gone. What remained were the negative emotions the witches had accumulated over a thousand years. However, since witches were practically soulless dolls who, having lost their free will, were controlled by their negative emotions, one could say that these cursed dregs were, in fact, the very essence of the witches.
The faces all put their resentment into words:
"I hate you..."
"I'm so jealous..."
"Curse you..."
"I'll never forgive you..."
These feelings didn't belong solely to the witches. They'd accumulated them over the years, pulling them from the air—they were the mass of negative emotions that constantly poured out from everyone.
"If only Hans didn't exist... I would've been the next commander. It should've been me. I hope he kills himself. I hope a carriage runs over him," one of the witches said in a man's voice.
No one really understood those words except for one soldier who suddenly paled.
"Th-That's...my voice?" he noted, shaken.
"B-Barry! Is that truly what you think of me?!" another man—presumably Hans—exclaimed.
"No! This is a misunderstanding!" Barry immediately shouted.
Hans couldn't hide his shock. Someone he'd always considered his friend had been thinking horrible things about him.
The next moment, another witch spoke in Hans's voice. "That damn Barry... He doesn't come close to me, but he wants to pretend he's as good as me, huh? He's so freaking annoying too—he's always following me around like a damn dog."
Having heard those words, Barry impulsively jumped at Hans's throat. The other man was just as angry.
"You asshole!"
"Shut your trap! You wanna fight, is that it?!"
"Stop it, you two! Can't you see it's not the time to fight among ourselves?!" another soldier cried.
How could they face such a terrifying enemy if they were busy bickering with one another?
As a couple of soldiers got in between the two troublemakers and held them back, the witches kept talking.
"Lily's so hot. She's wasted on Rick. I need to find some dirt on her... I'm sure that if I do her once, she'll fall for me and forget about that shithead."
"If it weren't for Miss Layla, my dad would still be head of the saint's guard..."
"It's all Lady Ellize's fault that Verner won't look at me."
"Lady Ellize wouldn't be dead if it wasn't for Verner!"
"I'm the first saint, so they should all praise me more! Revere me!"
"Who cares about this damn world if Lady Ellize isn't in it anymore?"
The voices continued, a new one coming out of a different witch's mouth every time.
Some soldiers looked away in shame, while others covered their ears. Their ugliest thoughts, the ones they always pretended not to notice, were on full display. They didn't want to hear, nor did they want to see.
And yet, here they were, manifested in front of them. That was the enemy they had to face—the true nature of the witches.
This must stop, Profeta realized. If they let the witches continue, the troops' morale would plummet, and they'd be left defenseless. She exclaimed, "Alfrea!"
"I know! Argh... This monster sure is cruel!" she answered, firing mana projectiles at the giant.
She'd used dark magic, a power only the witches and saints could call upon. The pitch-black bullets went right through the giant's torso. Light shone through the gaps for a second, but then they closed back up.
Alfrea groaned. "I gave it everything I've got, but this isn't working at all!"
She took out a white flower—an angelo, just like the one Ellize had been wearing in her hair—and used it to replenish her mana.
She'd reluctantly poured all of her strength into a single attack to gauge her opponent's constitution, but it had been utterly useless. If Alfrea's best wasn't good enough to even leave a dent in the giant, what would be?
"Why is this happening to me?"
"Everyone else should suffer too!"
"Why is the world fine when I'm in so much pain?"
"I'll destroy everything!"
The witches' grudges kept echoing as the giant started walking, paying no mind to Alfrea and the others.
A single one of its steps sent dozens of soldiers flying. They'd been standing at the ready, shields held high, but it wasn't any use.
"Don't let it reach the city! Engage, soldiers! Engaaage!!!" King Aiz screamed.
At his signal, arrows and magic spells flew. None of them were of any use. Just like Alfrea's magic bullets, they passed right through the giant without leaving a scratch.
The gigantic "witch" continued to walk toward the city. Alexia's face suddenly sprouted on its back.
"You traitor," she said, glaring at Aiz. "I gave you everything I had, but you trampled upon me. I hate you... I hate you so much..."
"A-Alexia..." Aiz whimpered.
Needless to say, Aiz felt terribly guilty about what had happened with Alexia. Hearing her curse him made him falter. And so, he didn't react in time to the dark blaze Alexia hurled at him. It narrowly missed, hitting the ground next to him, but the blast had been enough to send him flying. He collided with a building and groaned weakly.
"Hey! Wait up! Where are you going?!" Alfrea yelled.
"This is bad..." Profeta mumbled as she—slowly—rushed toward the city.
"Well, duh! Anyone with eyes can see that! The city is done for if we don't find a solution!"
"Not that. I mean, it's an issue, obviously, but...that monster seems to be heading straight toward the church. It doesn't seem to have any intellect, but it can tell by instinct who the threat is..."
Profeta was walking as fast as she possibly could, but at the end of the day, a turtle was a turtle. There were a few species of turtles that were surprisingly fast on land, like softshell turtles, but Profeta wasn't one of them.
"That being is a heap of negative feelings. The one thing it hates most is its antithesis, the most positive of feelings—hope. We only have one symbol of hope around here," Profeta said.
"You mean me?" Alfrea asked, pointing at herself.
Profeta immediately crushed her pride. "I'm talking about Ellize, obviously. Even in death, everyone still relies on her. The citizens are gathering in and around the church to pray as we speak. If that giant crushes the crystal in front of everyone...they'll all fall into despair on the spot, and that thing will grow even stronger."
In terms of combat, Ellize was the only person who could measure up to the new "witch," but what mattered even more than that was what Ellize represented—hope, justice, and the triumph of light over darkness. All that remained now was her lifeless body, but even that was enough to support the people.
By destroying her body, the "witch" could kill three birds with one stone: they'd rid themselves of a potential menace, throw the people into despair, and strengthen themselves.
"Lady Alfrea!"
"Oh, Eterna! Nice timing!"
Eterna, Verner, and their friends were approaching at full speed on horseback.
The arrival of Eterna—this generation's saint—should have made hope bloom in the hearts of the knights and soldiers. With her and Alfrea, there were two saints on the battlefield. It was a historical moment.
Their opponent, however, was the culmination of a thousand years of hatred.
A saint needed, on average, fifteen years to awaken and be ready to face the witch. It'd then take another five years—more or less—for her to kill the witch and turn into the next one. In other words, a new witch was born every twenty years on average.
That meant that around fifty witches were contained in this new, gigantic monstrosity. Obviously, things didn't always work out that way, and that number was nothing more than an estimate, but it still meant that two saints were faced with around fifty witches. No matter how you sliced it, they had no way of winning.
No one but Ellize, who was as strong as all the other saints in history put together, could hope to prevail over this abomination.
"That thing is heading toward the church! We think it's after Ellize's body!" Alfrea told Eterna and her friends.
Verner's rage boiled over. He jumped down from his horse and swung the blade Ellize had given him. His blade passed right through the "witch" with no effect. When the monster retaliated with a punch, however, Verner was knocked away. His muscular, thoroughly trained body flew like an insignificant twig, and he crashed into the roof of a building. The tiles broke under the impact, and he disappeared inside the building.
"Hey! This is so unfair! You can't be both tangible and intangible! You gotta pick one, you monster! Why can you hit us when our attacks just go right through you, huh?!" Alfrea fumed.
"Calm down, Alfrea! It only takes physical form when it's about to hit someone!" Profeta warned.
Verner had been taken down a couple of seconds after making it to the battlefield but, thanks to his valiant sacrifice, a glimmer of hope had appeared. If they timed their attacks with the giant's, they should be able to deal some damage. That discovery was huge.
"Wait for it to attack!"
"Okay! In that case, I'll blast all of my mana at this thing once more! Eterna, you're with me!" Alfrea exclaimed.
"Yes!"
Alfrea, who had recovered most of her mana thanks to the angelo, mustered all of her strength. Eterna also started condensing her mana, while Marie and Aina followed suit with their ice and fire.
John, Fiora, and Crunchybite charged at the "witch" to attract its attention. The monster moved to brush them away with its hand as though they were flies, and the others didn't allow that opportunity slip by.
"Now! Fire!" Profeta screamed.
Alfrea and Eterna immediately unleashed their full power on the giant. Marie, Aina, and a good chunk of knights also followed up with successive waves of magic right after them.
This time, their attacks did not go through the dark creature's body. They crashed into it, creating a large explosion.
Alfrea struck a triumphant pose and exclaimed, "YEEEESSS!!! Wait... Is it dead?!"
The monster had been hit with the full power of two saints, as well as a great number of knights. Any one witch would have died on the spot—emphasis on the one. What they had to face wasn't simply a single witch, though.
When the dust settled, the giant was still standing. The faces of two of the witches had been crushed beyond recognition, but the monster didn't seem to mind as it continued its path.
"No way..." Alfrea whispered, exhausted. She laughed. Her tone was as light as always, but her heart sank. What else could she even do? This was hopeless.
She and Eterna, two saints, had used everything they'd had, and this had been the result? The monster had barely stopped walking and had regenerated itself in mere seconds.
The feeble hope their discovery had created had already disappeared.
The "witch" swung its arms, and Alfrea and the others were hurled into the air. They crashed into buildings, just like Verner and Aiz had before them. Some houses were already in ruins.
"No... Wait! I won't let you get to her..." Verner said, crawling out of the rubble.
The "witch" ignored him and continued forward. It was clear that Ellize was the only menace in the monster's eyes. The rest of them were all worthless flies. It didn't care one bit about Alfrea's and Profeta's resolve, Verner's determination, or the knights' dignity. All it was interested in was the church.
And yet, something suddenly appeared to block its path—a huge mountain, nearly as tall as the giant, emerged from the ground.
It was earth magic, that much was obvious, but its scale was unbelievable. Only someone as powerful as the saint could achieve something like this.
And yet, the one who'd done that was no saint. He was a very ordinary, yet fanatic, man.
"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Supple Ment, who'd been cooped up in his lab ever since Ellize's death, asked.
He spread his arms, a vicious smile on his face. The next moment, the mountain crumbled and a stone golem emerged.
How in the world could that man unleash so much mana? He'd become just as powerful as Eterna or Alfrea.
The "witch" stopped in its tracks.
"Heh heh heh. Are you surprised? Are you wondering why I'm so powerful?" he asked proudly. "It's a simple matter, so I'll tell you. I used the same training method as you, witch. I circulated my mana as fast as I possibly could and increased my mana pool!"
Supple made it sound very easy. In a way, he wasn't wrong—anyone could technically circulate their mana to become stronger. Ellize, who was also an ordinary girl, had performed countless miracles that way.
However, if it truly was that easy, everyone would be doing it.
Increasing your circulation speed meant taking in more negative emotions than you could expel, and your heart would gradually be tainted in the process. The first witch, Eve, was a very good example of what could happen if you circulated your mana too much.
Besides Ellize and Eve, a few other individuals had suffered from a condition that naturally sped up their mana circulation, and—with the exception of Ellize—they'd all turned into heinous villains.
"Mister Supple? How in the world..." Eterna whispered.
"Why, don't be so surprised, Eterna," the teacher answered. "I've only had one goal since Lady Ellize passed: to resurrect her. She performed that same miracle with Verner before. I figured that if I could imitate it, I could save her. However, I'm but a mere teacher. My magic was far from being enough to even attempt such a feat. There was a solution to my predicament, though: I simply had to increase my mana."
Instead of giving in to despair, Ellize's number one fanatic had decided to look for ways to save her. The answer he'd found was to attempt to accomplish a miracle—the same one Ellize had in the past.
Ellize had been sealed immediately after her death. Supple had concluded that, as long as he could bring back her soul, he could revive her. In fact, that was why he'd asked Alfrea to seal her. His goal wasn't to preserve her body forever—it was to buy time until he could figure out a way to bring her back to life. If her body decayed in the meantime, it would be useless.
Supple was well aware that no regular amount of mana could help him perform such a feat, so he'd sought mana.
"B-But... You shouldn't be able to bear it..." Profeta said, flabbergasted.
"I'm a teacher. I've taught mana circulation for years. I'm well aware of the risks. I won't deny I've felt some dark urges. Wave after wave of foreign, somber feelings tried to taint my soul. But so what?! Why should I care about any of that? Even if you were to add up the negative emotions of the entirety of humanity since the very beginning of time, you'd still end up with a finite sum. How could that measure up to my boundless love for Lady Ellize?!"
Supple's answer made little sense to anyone but him. He was a raging pervert, and his obsessive love for Ellize had somehow triumphed over the countless negative emotions that had assaulted him. To sum it up, his heart was so darkened from the start that there wasn't much to taint.
The "witch" struck the stone golem like it was an annoyingly large fly blocking its path. Supple's golem responded with a counter.
Both giants lost an arm in the process. The "witch" quickly regenerated its missing arm, as did the golem. Supple's creation simply absorbed new material from the ground.
"This is no use, witch! I can regenerate my golem just as fast as you can! You seem to take pride in your invulnerability... Well, my golem's just as invulnerable!"
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The "witch" and the golem exchanged blows, while Supple smiled as though he'd already won. They would strike each other, then regenerate themselves. This went on over and over again.
The severed parts of the being's body dispersed into a black mist that would gather to reform that body part. As for the golem, his missing parts would turn into a fine powder that soon rearranged itself to fill the gaps. The two monsters seemed evenly matched.
"Prostrate yourself before the might of the supreme saint, you frauds! You're all fakes that failed to reach the top!" Supple exclaimed.
Anyone would agree that what he'd just said was absurd. According to him, Ellize was the real deal, while the witches—who'd all been saints in their own right—were nothing but fakes.
Needless to say, he knew that Ellize was the fake. He had been there that day and heard the words from her very mouth. However, her grand reveal had done nothing to sway his faith. In fact, it had reached a new high.
She was a normal person. A regular girl who'd been mistaken for the saint by chance. And yet, she'd performed miracle after miracle! At that moment, Supple Ment had become keenly aware of the possibilities humans held, of the blinding light that slumbered deep within their hearts.
While Supple's heart had always been full of respect and love for Ellize, learning the truth had multiplied those feelings a hundredfold. They had exploded and broken through the skies, reaching all the way to outer space. Needless to say, they were still growing to this day.
Aah, how many times will she surpass my puny ideals?!
Who cared what the world wanted? Humans didn't need to abide by its will. They didn't need any saints that were handpicked by it either. They could simply make their own decisions and forge their own path. Ellize had shown them that there were no limits! With a pure and righteous soul, one could achieve anything!
Supple didn't care one bit about the witch's lamentations. Alexia had been betrayed by her peers? So what?! Ellize had been betrayed too. And yet, she hadn't fallen into despair—she'd forgiven and even saved the people who'd turned on her.
So what if mana circulation exposed your soul to others' darkness? Considering how powerful Ellize had become, she'd taken in more dark emotions than anyone before. She'd welcomed the world's pain and hatred and hadn't lost herself. If a so-called regular girl could achieve that, what were the previous saints' excuses?
Supple was positive: those who couldn't do that were the fakes, not Ellize.
Supple had finally realized that Ellize's miracles weren't miracles at all. People—normal people—could achieve all that through sheer strength of character.
He knew now: humans were wonderful and magnificent. And Ellize, the one who'd taught him all that, deserved the greatest love and devotion. No, she deserved much more than what he'd ever thought he could give.
"You're a bunch of fakes who couldn't even win over the ill will of our world. There's no way you can win over my love! My love is infinite, as is her glory!"
Supple was raising death flag after death flag as he watched his golem duke it out with the "witch," a self-satisfied grin on his face. Someone probably should've gotten him to shut up, but—unfortunately—the people of this world weren't exactly familiar with the concept of death flags.
"Behold, witch! Bear witness to the great love I devote to the most sublime of saints! Your hatred is powerless in the face of my—"
Supple didn't finish his sentence. All of the witches had opened their mouths, their gaping jaws brimming with mana they'd gathered. They could fire at any time, he realized. Hell was at his door. His golem was powerful and could regenerate itself, sure, but if it was obliterated all at once, there'd be nothing to regrow.
"W-Wait... Hang o—"
Fire.
The golem was reduced to dust on the spot. As for Supple, he got blown away. He spun around in the air like a top before getting buried headfirst in the rubble.
He'd raised everyone's expectations, but in the end, Supple was Supple. All the helpless onlookers could wonder was, What in the world did he come here to do?
(3.6k word count)
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