Chapter 71

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Chapter 71: Live

A wizard is a type of spellcaster, but not all spellcasters are wizards.

If we were to rank the spellcasters on the Earth based on their relationship with the abyss, Abyss Worshipper would be on the far left end of the scale, Celestial Clan on the far right, Druid in the middle, wizards slightly to the left of the middle, and between wizards and Abyss Worshippers, there is another type, "witches".

Spells like shadow magic, which are elusive and hard to detect, are one of the signs of witches.

"Is it a newly awakened dragon descendant or a survivor of the abyss?" the shadow spoke, no one knew how that flat shadow could make a sound, "How disillusioned must you be to come to the heart of Aryan?"

"That’s also what I want to know, what makes a witch stay near the capital?" Tasha asked, "If you want to protect someone, you could easily send them away from danger instead of keeping them in a perilous place."

"Who told you I was nearby?" the witch giggled.

"The protective spell array of this inn has been here for at least ten years, and that Mr. Edwin clearly has read an enlightening spellbook, these traces are too obvious, even if you’re not close by, you’re likely more conspicuous than me." Tasha said.

"To call the traces I left ‘conspicuous’, I’m more curious about what you are." the witch said.

Her voice was sweet and charming, pleasing to the ears of both genders. Talking to a shadow didn’t require maintaining eye contact etiquette. Tasha took out a dagger, playing with it under the moonlight, showing more patience than a witch. They tested each other back and forth for several minutes, then Tasha let out a small sigh.

"I’d be happy to chat with you in a roundabout way another time," she said. "Sorry, I’m in a hurry today."

The dragon wings spread fiercely, like a predatory animal with a will of its own. The basement wasn’t ideal for flying, but they acted like the tail feathers of an eagle and the fins of a swordfish, speeding up Tasha and allowing swift turns in a short time. She was as fast as lightning, falling like thunder. The silver blade didn’t attack the wall but plunged into the shadow behind her, sizzling like a red-hot iron dipped in a basin of water.

Using the blade as a mirror, Tasha scanned every shadow in the basement, finding the one swallowing light. The silver blade, tainted with her blood, pierced through the darkness, causing the shadows to scatter like bats from a disturbed nest, revealing the area where the light should have shone. The shadow projected on the wall dissipated, like a shadow puppet losing its form.

The witch might not be nearby, but she needed a medium to cast spells here. It could be a possession, a decoy, or something else, but it didn’t matter, as long as a part of her was close, Tasha could grab her tail.

A woman’s figure emerged, flattened then expanded, eventually bursting like an overripe fruit, collapsing into numerous rats. Red-eyed rats scattered and charged at Tasha, but a flap of her wings sent the creatures flying. Yet more rats kept coming from what seemed like a black hole, relentless and unstoppable. The dragon claws hooked onto a wooden pillar in the basement, and Tasha climbed up, clinging to it like a bat.

A sharp scream echoed at the basement door.

The basement door remained open, engulfed by shadows, where no one was supposed to find the entrance.

The witch’s shadow paused, then quickly realized what was happening. A large hand made of shadows pushed towards the door, but before it could reach the entrance, the person at the door fell in.

The girl with braided hair was in a mess, jumping around and screaming non-stop at the mice on the floor. "Mice!" she shouted in panic, looking like she was about to go crazy, "So many mice! Ahhh!"

Abigail’s voice changed completely as a huge mouse ran across her foot, and she ended up hysterically screaming, causing the mice and clutter in the basement to freeze in that moment, like a slow-motion scene in a movie. Then, ghostly flames ignited in midair, setting everything ablaze.

What a pleasant surprise, thought Tasha. It was unexpected that the Shadow Witch’s daughter had a gift for fire.

With Abigail at the center, the flames bloomed like a red lotus, brightening up the room. The girl, with her eyes closed, was unaware of her actions, while the basement around her was engulfed in flames, except for the spot beneath her feet, untouched by the fire. Tasha, hanging on a pillar, remained unfazed by the heat of the flames, her dragon attributes providing strong resistance to magic and fire, one of the reasons she dared to confront the witch directly. Only a small patch of shadow remained unscattered indoors, as the witch’s shadow avatar suddenly expanded before the next flicker of the flames.

The red flames arrived with great force, then disappeared silently. There were no sizzling sounds of being extinguished by water, no ups and downs, just the flames vanishing as if a shadowy giant mouth broke the surface and consumed the red lotus above.

Abigail fell down.

As the flames receded, the shadows returned, countless tendrils reaching for the girl’s feet, but someone was faster. Tasha leaped forward like an Angaso lion jumping off a tree, scooping up the girl who was about to fall.

The rustling ceased, and in the darkness, angry eyes glared.

"I just realized something…" Victor chuckled.

Victor whispered in Tasha’s mind, proclaiming the victory with a smile. Tasha became completely calm; she knew she had won the battle of the witches.

"I think it’s time we have an open chat," Tasha said.

She held an unconscious young girl in her arms, like protecting a fallen bird. Her hand rested on the bird’s delicate neck, where the bones were not as strong as dragon bones, just a gentle touch…

"What do you want to know?" the witch said coldly.

A witch is different from a female wizard.

A wizard is a professional who can use spells for combat and daily life after certain studies. They can be male or female, human or non-human. However, witches are different. Their origins are uncertain, but two things are certain: witches are not human; they are a unique race, and any children born to them from different races will also be witches. Most of their inherited knowledge is about making magic potions (such as love potions and deadly poisons well-known in Aryan), and they do not need to learn how to use magic.

Witches are born spellcasters.

They do not need to apprentice like wizards, memorize, understand, and learn. Each witch awakens their abilities around puberty, falling into several categories (such as Shadow Witch, Flame Witch, and so on). They excel in their own field but struggle in other areas of magic – they do not choose and cannot choose.

Tasha’s late-night acts of disrupting the magical ward nodes around the inn were not unnoticed. Abigail, a curious and adventurous girl, silently followed her, and Tasha had no intention of leaving the shopkeeper’s daughter behind. If the hidden spellcaster protected the inn, the innkeeper’s daughter could likely be within his or her shelter. Bringing along this self-proclaimed follower had its advantages. At any rate, she planned to lure the spellcaster out. Upon discovering that the one setting up protections was a witch, Tasha began to formulate some guesses and plans.

That protective spell array might not be used for external purposes.

The principle of the spell array is to break down energy. Whether it’s magic used within the array or powerful magic weapons, all attacks will be broken down before being completed, unable to be fully released. No one can use magic attacks on those inside the spell array, and likewise, no one inside the array can use magic.

Therefore, no one will be exposed. Edwin, the scholar who researches ancient texts, wouldn’t know how correct he is. He can’t perform a simple spark spell, magic is just a story to him. Abigail, who is growing up, yearns for magic but believes she is not capable of it. Little does she know, at seventeen years old, that magic flows in her veins.

Abigail is the daughter of a witch.

She is destined not to become a wizard; the mechanisms of witches and wizards are vastly different. Wizard spells result from precise logical operations, while witches’ come from intuition, perception, and emotions. She doesn’t need to study spells, but she holds the key to the magical world. Abigail just needs to wait for the right time, walk through the open door with confidence.

The nodes of the protective spell array have been dismantled one by one until it is now falling apart. Edwin, who stayed up all night on the second-floor corridor, feels a sense of relief. Puzzled, he looks out the window and notices that the moon seems brighter now. The "ventilation fan" covering the entire inn has been turned off. Magic and energy can now accumulate. One more attempt at casting a spell, and the unsuccessful writer will enter the realm of an apprentice. Seventeen-year-old Abigail has unleashed her bloodline for the first time today. The secrets of fire magic will slowly unfold over the next few decades. She is destined to shine brightly in this field.

"Yes, I gave Edwinspellbook, no reason, just for fun." The witch said with little interest, playing with her long nails.

It’s easy to understand: Wizards and witches, who are both spellcasters, have fundamentally different natures and have never seen eye to eye. Wizards think witches rely on talent and are barbaric creatures who struggle to choose spells that are far from intelligent like a wizard’s. Witches believe wizards are weak, not favored by magic, mocking them for working hard to accomplish what is as easy as breathing for a witch. They represent reason and emotion, logic and intuition, order and freedom… arguing for centuries.

Now that wizards have disappeared, a witch has acquired a spellbook which she hands over to a novelist who resembles a wizard, almost like a mischievous retaliation. Under her guidance, it’s no wonder that the wizard supporters introduce themselves with past derogatory nicknames.

There are many questions to ask.

Why did the witch stay here? How long did she stay, how much does she know about the capital city, why did she give birth to Abigail and then pretend to be dead and leave? How many witches are there? Why did wizards disappear, and how did she get the spellbook? The new spellcaster who appeared can bring a lot of important information to complete the world view, but for now, these questions can be put aside.

"I want to know where the entrance to the underground in the capital city is," said Tasha.

"Why do you want to know this?" the witch said, not denying that she knew about it, "it’s none of my business what you want to do, but I have to make sure you won’t get me into trouble."

"Have you heard about what’s happening in Tasmania?" Tasha said.

"You mean those foolish rebels? Oh, you’re from there," the witch said uninterestedly, "I haven’t been to the underground space in the capital city, but one doesn’t need to go to know that there is no switch there that can overthrow the human empire just by destroying it."

"But you know where the entrance is," Tasha stated.

"Yes, I know, I have even been there, but what’s the use?" the witch said, "inside, there are many barriers that cannot be penetrated, not even a shadow knows what’s inside. Do you know what’s underground?"

"Not sure yet," Tasha said, "but I can try."

The witch laughed again, sounding like a rich lady who had too much to drink, giggling continuously, using her pink nails to pinch your face. This strange charm was able to come through a thin shadow skin, easing the atmosphere of the basement but making Victor secretly mumble. Charm to the witch was like intelligence to a wizard, the more attractive the witch looked, the more dangerous she was.

"Did you also say this to your people before you set off? ‘I don’t know if I can save everyone’s lives, I’m just trying.’ " the witch said, "Would they pin their hopes on you? Or are they just desperate, willing to try anything, not caring whether you survive outside?"

"Not really," Tasha replied with a smile, "because I have never let them down, just as they have never let me down. That’s why the ‘cancer’ of Tasmania has worsened, turning from a minor issue of the empire into a serious problem."

Her confident tone made the witch silent for a moment, then the witch laughed again after a few seconds. "Are you trying to recruit me?" she hit the nail on the head, "persuading me to join you when your building is about to collapse?"

"At least we still have the ‘building’," Tasha said, "look around you, witch. The wizards who were once on par with you are nowhere to be seen, the human empire has gained absolute dominance, while witches are both spellcasters and outsiders. Countless struggles have been quickly extinguished, the fact that our message has reached here precisely indicates that the human army has failed to extinguish the fire in the southeast corner. You can choose to fight alongside us bravely, or continue to ‘lurk’ and pray that luck will allow you to barely survive, continuing to linger like you are now."

As she said the last word, she flew up again, this time directly catapulting through the window into the moonlight, her back shattering the window frame, soaring into the sky. The shadows in the basement erupted almost simultaneously, countless indescribable black substances instantly filled the entire space, as if a pool of black mud was poured in. Thick and thorny shadow tentacles rushed out of the hole Tasha had created, piercing straight up to the sky, running nearly a hundred meters before showing signs of exhaustion.

Tasha flew under the full moon, as light as a butterfly escaping from a spider hole. She looked down where she had flown out from, where countless indistinct things were wriggling, as if the swamp was boiling.

The Shadow Witch, whose foot was stepped on, couldn’t maintain her form for a while.

The witch in the basement was not a clone, that shadow was her true self, only a part left in this world. When the little witch awakened for the first time and attacked the entire basement with flames, the elemental restraint made the Shadow Witch expose her true form in a very brief moment. Her disguise was very clever, even the wise wizards found it difficult to capture this momentary flaw, but Tasha had Victor.

"I am a big evil demon after all," Victor said coolly, "a witch who acts foolishly."

Strictly speaking, the witch is already dead, kept alive by magic in the inn, existing here, bound here. Tasha didn’t know how she died, didn’t know her past, but she was quite clear that as long as she held onto Abigail, she would always win against the witch in the end.

Not because of the bond between mother and daughter.

"Witches have a secret spell that can bring them back to life in their own children," Victor said, "prepared deceased fall into this semi-dead state, on the seventeenth year of their offspring’s talent awakening, the semi-dead spirit battles the living daughter, the victor lives on, using the body of the living with all the knowledge and memories of the deceased. This newly awakened Flame Witch must have used this method of resurrection she left behind."

Witches on the line between life and death not only spend most of their time asleep, with a very limited range of movement, but also only exist for a little over twenty years – one failure means death. As long as this Shadow Witch wants to survive, she has to compromise with Tasha.

"You could just make her sign a contract directly," Victor urged.

"Forget it," Tasha said, "you said witches are creatures driven by emotions rather than reason."

Witches are known for their tricky spells and clear emotions, often breaking through their limits when their emotions are intense. In history, an enraged witch retaliated against her friend who had betrayed her by burning herself, the Flame Witch who later became known as the "Burner of Nations" eventually burned down a human kingdom. The flames that could not be extinguished burned for a whole month before finally dying out, and the ashes became a wasteland before recovering centuries later.

The tired innkeeper came out for a walk, in his eyes, everything in the inn was normal. Unusual sounds and scenes were all covered by shadows, from this perspective, at least the Shadow Witch wasn’t going crazy. Tasha waited in the air for over ten minutes until the black mist below dissipated, then she landed again.

"Please tell me how to get into the city underground," Tasha stood outside the shadow’s reach and repeated, "Let’s make a deal. I don’t care about your past or your future goals, as long as you don’t lie or hide anything, I will leave quietly just like I came, without touching anything."

"How can you prove this?" the witch said in a harsh tone, "Do I have to wait until you return safely to get Abigail back? I won’t accept that. Even if I haven’t told a single lie, there is a ninety-nine percent chance you will die there."

"Let’s make a contract," Tasha said.

The shadow froze when the floating contract appeared. Tasha couldn’t see the witch’s face, but she could feel her surprise.

"The abyss is closed, there are no demons on the surface, how can you have the ability to produce a demonic pact?" she asked unsteadily, "What are you really?"

"I am an explorer trying to open up a new world in Aryan," Tasha said, "I am a seeker who wants all creatures to be able to thrive again on this continent."

The witch began to laugh heartily.

At this moment, Tasha finally realized that this person was indeed Abigail’s mother. The nervousness in her laughter was reminiscent of a little girl seeing a pile of mice. The Shadow Witch laughed loudly, madly, with a laughter that was manic and desperate.

"Reappear on this road? Just like in the past?" she whispered frantically between her fits of laughter, "If such a thing could be done, why have I been languishing half-dead in an underground room all this time?"

"You have to try."

"Do you think I’m talking about humans?" The witch’s voice was sharp, "Humans – they’re just lucky crawling creatures! It’s Aryan itself who wants to kill us all!"

"What do you mean?" Tasha was startled.

"Guess how long I have lived… oh, I can’t really call it living, so guess how many years ago I was born. It’s been too long for a witch with a lifespan similar to humans, so long that I don’t even remember my name back then." The witch’s voice softened, with a strange touch of tenderness, "My dear, I witnessed the Orc War with my own eyes."

The unnamed witch was born before the Orc War. In her increasingly fragmented memories due to repeated possessions, there were still some unforgettable things lingering.

Let’s start from the beginning.

Nearly five hundred years ago, the Abyss Worshipper from the west and the witches from the north colluded secretly. Their leaders deceived demons, allowing them to use Abyss magic without sacrificing to the Abyss, leading to the signing of the Aryan Declaration. About four hundred years ago, residents of the Primary Material Plane achieved victory in the plane war, driving out the Abyss and the Heavenly Realm. At that time, everything was fine, and all creatures believed that things would continue to be good.

Then the elves and the Great Druids set out on a journey.

"They say we were heroes back then." The witch sang, "The remains on the ground – Abyssal Creation, fanatics, and Celestial Clan – all turned into pests. But those who stole the power of the Heavenly Realm, the apostate former Abyss Worshipper, and us who were involved, were seen as great heroes – you see, in the age where traitors are praised, when it’s not the time of the betrayed, people start singing praises for it."

Next came the Dwarf War, followed by the Orc War. Both wars, a hundred years apart, were fought fiercely. The victorious humans began to praise Human Supremacy, and the status of other races became uncertain.

But this was neither the beginning nor the end.

When did magical creatures start to disappear? Witches noticed that the quality of magical ingredients was declining and becoming harder to find. Then, they realized that the sea creatures from the western sea, who used to trade with the witches every ten years, had vanished.

Fairies always kept to themselves, sea creatures roamed the deep sea, magical beings were always mysterious and rare, so no one could say exactly when they disappeared. There was even debate if they had truly vanished entirely.

These signs of isolation had not yet impacted the mainstream society greatly. What was more concerning for humans was that powerful wizards were no longer immortal.

No one could truly live forever, but some spellcasters found ways to cheat death through tricks like becoming liches or using other spells. During the hundred years from the Dwarf War to the Orc War, Legendary Wizards fell one by one, all transformation ceremonies failed, and even the Professionals started to diminish.

New theories emerged after the Orc War.

Scholars discovered that spellcasters were depleting the magical energy of this plane. The magical cycle of Aryan was disrupted, regeneration became very slow – to the point of non-existence, though, the latter was too dreadful and people preferred to believe in "slowness". In such an environment, each time a spellcaster cast a spell, they consumed the magic of the plane.

Magic is the basic essence of Aryan, coexisting with the plane from its first second of existence. What would happen if the magic of the plane were completely depleted?

"They said the reason for this war was to completely eliminate the remnants of the Abyss and Heavenly Realm, including traitors from the Abyss and Heavenly Realm, in other words, the spellcasters." The witch giggled innocently like a little girl, "It’s so rare, the witches, wizards, and priests being locked in the same cage and taken away, like slaughtering chickens, burying the bodies of enemies together."

On one side is the theory of spellcasters depleting dimensional magical power, on the other side is the ideology of Human Supremacy. These two ideologies clashed, leading to a natural war and even massacre. Those clergy who once betrayed the gods for their own people, Abyss Worshippers and witches who declared war on the Abyss for the Aryans, wizards who lost their powerful leaders… betrayed by their own kind.

"I was lucky and powerful enough to escape alive," the witch said, "I lived like this for decades, continuing to live through my daughter’s body. If you have seen spellcasters being slaughtered one by one, you would understand the value of life. Later on, the lifespan of each body I inhabited became shorter and shorter."

The witch is a half-magical creature.

The unnamed Shadow Witch survived all this time, witnessing the subtle changes in magical creatures over two hundred years. New witches could live for sixty years, fifty years, forty years… and now, after changing bodies and hastily giving birth to a daughter, the young witch’s body would die of weakness in the second year.

Aryan seemed to not want her to live any longer.

"That’s it then," the witch said wearily, as if her previous storytelling had exhausted all her enthusiasm, "That’s it, the entrance is under a tile house in the old city district. I can tell you the exact location, and even teach you how to sneak past the first guard without anyone noticing… Whether you win or lose, human victory or non-human victory, it doesn’t matter to me. Perhaps Abigail won’t even live long enough to face me in battle."

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