Chapter 77

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Chapter 77: We Are Not Alone

The farce of this day came to an end.

Perhaps "it ends here" is not quite appropriate, this day later became known as "The Day of Red Rain", and its impact far exceeded the imagination of most witnesses. Scholars in the future could write many papers about it, and even a saying similar to "red rain is coming" appeared, used to describe something very surprising, unexpected, and unbelievable.

But that’s another story.

On the day the red rain fell, shock, anger, fear, sadness… many complex emotions erupted among the crowd, coming so fast and intense that people were helpless, only able to remain silent. Even though soon the strange phenomena in the sky disappeared, the images just seen were deeply imprinted in everyone’s memory. Everyone looked at each other, bewildered and embarrassed, not knowing how to react.

The leaders desperately urged the stunned violent machinery to drive everyone back home, putting Aryan temporarily in a state of emergency. Not yet unified on an explanation, they had to first prohibit all discussions, letting people stay at home, attempting to nip the possibility of chaos in the bud. This was partly to prevent riots and also to keep the soldiers busy following orders rather than speculating.

The high ranks of the Empire held an emergency meeting overnight, discussing the aftermath of the event with serious faces. "It’s all part of the Hybrid’s conspiracy to shake military morale," a weary-looking general said.

As the detection device in the southeast corner started, the general’s family were having lunch together. Shortly after the general had mocked the foolish actions of the Hybrid and left for work, the second wave of red rain fell, and his son saw his mother’s projection with an alien tribe hovering above his head. The young general’s son strangled his mother and then took his own life with a dining knife. When the news reached him, the general, who served as an honored military academy instructor, was shocked to find out that the political slogans he casually shouted at work (about human purity and the necessity of Hybrid’s death) were actually considered absolute by his son.

The more military personnel received education in Human Supremacy, the prouder they were of their human identity. If one wanted to understand what had happened before… out of the many terrible things they could have done, suicide was not the worst.

"It’s all part of the Hybrid’s conspiracy." The high ranks unanimously agreed, whether they truly believed it or not.

"We cannot be deceived by such tricks," the Emperor decreed.

Long-lost urgent orders were issued, causing chaos throughout the entire Aryan Empire. Notices were posted in crowded places, and all newspapers carried official statements angrily denouncing the previous day’s turmoil as a despicable conspiracy by the Hybrid in the southeast corner of Hybrid, falsely accusing humans to create discord among us all. Boldly printed proclamations were spread by grassroots managers everywhere.

They condemned the vile scheme of the Tasmanian conspirators and exposed the illusion that the turmoil in the southeast was insignificant. Now everyone knew that Tasmanians held power over the foreign race, and with the official denial, the existence of dungeons spread throughout every corner of the Aryan Empire.

Rumors were spreading everywhere.

Initially, the swift reaction of the authorities was helpful. In order to seize the rare opportunity presented by Tasha’s "mistake," they started promoting what it represented before the second wave of detections began. Many civilians were clueless about magical technology, and without the rapid dissemination of information by the authorities, they might not have focused on bloodline detections. Many believed the official propaganda and successfully unearthed hidden foreigners, witnessing the chaos that followed the second wave of crimson rain.

The announcement the next day did not convince everyone, leaving many with doubts, as if a hole had been punched in a dam.

Drones hovered over the city, these magical mechanical devices equipped with audio playback functions were smuggled by spies to different parts of the country, now flying high and mocking the Empire’s official claims as lies, propagating how Tasmanians were open to all races. The Druids transformed into birds, and Beast Speakers’ parrot spirit pets acted discreetly, revealing the truth in more hidden places and conversing with the confused.

The rulers of the Empire frantically attacked the enemies in the sky, making the military feel extremely frustrated. The new magical unmanned drones only had audio playback capabilities, were light and small, self-destructing upon falling, and more would appear after being destroyed – Tasha had just earned a hefty sum from the Empire, having money to spare, and the factory’s assembly line could mass produce these drones with minimal costs. Spirit beasts and Druids were much more agile than drones, nearly impervious to conventional weapons, ineffective even with precious magical weapons, like using antiaircraft guns against mosquitoes, rendering it unprofitable to shoot them down.

As the military in various regions kept looking up, spies all over began their work, with tasks extending beyond fueling rumors.

The official propaganda had already debunked the notion that the detections labeled as Hybrid were lies. Therefore, the military would no longer go after those identified as hybrids in the first batch. Only a very, very small minority of hybrids breathed a sigh of relief, truly believing the Empire’s reassurance, and remained in place.

That day changed many people’s lives.

Some hybrids started to be aware of their different heritage, hiding their unusual parts among the crowd. They had lived in fear for many years before the Red Rain fell, dreaming of living peaceful lives after the Red Rain but realizing that their dreams were shattered. They decided to carry their belongings and take a chance rather than waiting for the empire to act.

Some hybrids only discovered their mixed heritage on The Day of Red Rain. Their unusual parts were either hidden by their parents at birth or they had been in denial about it. On the day the Red Rain fell, they felt the fear of being chased as outcasts. Despite people’s curious looks the next day or returning to their old kind selves, they knew they could never go back to their normal lives.

Let’s go, escape to the southeast.

Spies were skilled at observing and reading people’s expressions. Even if they didn’t witness the marked individuals on The Day of Red Rain, they could still read signs from some people’s faces or their absence. Notes were slipped under doors, birds pecked at windows, and hints of direction hid in the drunkard’s songs. Merchants, vagrants, circus performers… These seemingly unrelated people helped those who were determined to leave, silently escorting them away just as silently as they had come.

After the first and largest group of migrants escaped, the empire finally reacted. The road to the southeast was blocked, and the empire’s tentacles had already entrenched in Tasmanian. So, the empire’s upper echelons decided to abandon all of Tasmarin and turn it into a forbidden land.

The empire had considered going to war, they had been preparing for it.

However, their original plans became untimely after The Day of Red Rain.

The vanguard had already assembled, undergoing pre-battle training. They were the elite of the army, having the strongest will, considered the best soldiers by General Shirel. In other words, they were not only highly skilled in combat and knowledgeable in basic magic devices, but also showed no mercy or even harbored hatred towards hybrids, dedicating themselves completely to eradicating them for the human empire.

If the soldiers really went to war with the Hybrids, they would be very brave and not afraid of the strange-looking enemies. Even without magic weapons, they would fight until the end. That’s why the Empire chose them. But before the war started, red rain fell from the sky.

In the army camp, a revolt broke out like never before in Aryan history. They knew enough about the Hybrids and Red Setters to understand what was above them. Their hatred towards the Hybrids made them attack without hesitation as soon as they discovered them, faster than they could speak. Something funny happened – no one noticed what was above them without mirrors, only realizing they were surrounded by enemies.

The well-equipped soldiers bravely and selflessly attacked the hidden Hybrids.

The messenger in charge of inspecting the situation stood at the camp gate and vomited at the sight in front of him.

The army, prepared for battle, suffered some internal conflicts and casualties, making it difficult to start a war immediately. The Empire’s high command prioritized restoring the Source of Magic. However, the technical officer reporting on the situation looked worried. "We’ve done all we can, commander," she said ruefully. "To continue restoration, it will require more than just magic technology."

That was the realm of magic.

The Aryan Empire needed spellcasters, not fortune tellers, but the kind that had been erased from history a hundred years ago. Although the Grand Library had spellbooks, there were no users. Magic required talent, determination, and a lot of learning to train a wizard.

That means if the Empire didn’t want to spend ten or even twenty years training wizards, they had to find ready-made ones.

They had to recruit the wizards who had been condemned as dark magic followers over the past hundred years.

This situation is more than just embarrassing.

"The spellcaster is actually a human," a senior official said, "Since magic was used in creating the Source of Magic, it must mean that there were skilled wizards on our side back then."

Others agreed, as if just realizing this. Some looked hesitant, wanting to speak but stopping themselves, clearly feeling that things like the "Anti-magic Movement" or "Witch Hunts" could not simply be dismissed as unfortunate misunderstandings. They asked, "What about the magic depletion of spellcasters?"

"If we place the spellcasters under supervision, restrict the use of magic by limited wizards, focus on repairing the Magic Core, it won’t have any impact on Aryan," another intelligent person spoke up, "And after a century of recovery, Aryan’s magic resources are no longer as scarce as before."

The first half makes sense, as the limited number of spellcasters that are easily managed can be considered one of Aryan’s rare advantages today. The second half is purely speculative, as this person clearly cannot detect magic. But what does it matter? The Source of Magic must be restored, wizards must be recruited, just a step missing. So everyone suddenly realized this and nodded in agreement.

Despite the not very promising outcome of the public recruitment, The Day of Red Rain revealed the whereabouts of several wizard fugitives. Compared to lifetime imprisonment or death, they would probably prefer to work, right?

——————————

Abigail was suddenly awakened by the sound of a mouse passing through the tiles of the prison.

The second Red Rain should have left Abigail unharmed, but Edwin used magic in broad daylight. The military caught him and the uproar-causing Abigail together, separating them into male and female cells. Abigail did not know how her uncle was doing now.

Dad must be really worried.

Abigail called out, cried, and no one paid attention to her, only uncaring cellmates and rats everywhere. The creepy creatures with worm tails were always her least favorite, their rustling movements always waking her from her sleep. Rats, so many rats, in her recent nightmares, the tide of rats always rushed towards her, the scene felt so real – even though Abigail didn’t remember it ever happening.

The footsteps of a rat were coming towards her.

"Shh! Go away!" Abigail threatened into the darkness, hoping to scare away any unwanted guests. But the sound grew closer and closer, a sharp nose poking out of the shadows, twitching in the lamplight.

Abigail leaped up from the ground, at the same time, the rat scurried into the light.

Unlike the chubby rats seen everywhere in the prison, it was small, only as big as a baby’s fist, its teeth as long as adult fingernails making it even scarier. Its evil little eyes gleamed red in the darkness, and Abigail swore it was staring right at her, making her hair stand on end.

Abigail wanted to scream.

If she had a torch, she would burn down this cell along with all the rats. She was so fed up, everything that was happening made her angry and powerless, even though she felt like she could do something. Abigail’s fingers twitched, her skin sweating, tears welling up in her eyes, feeling like they were going to boil. She not only wanted to scream but also wanted to…

"Oh, there you are."

Abigail suddenly turned around and saw a woman in a purple dress and a prison guard outside the cage.

The mouse made a squeak, ran outside quickly like a kicked little ball. It darted up the purple dress of the woman. Abigail screamed, but the woman just laughed.

"Come, say ‘hi’ to Nuz," the woman said to Abigail, affectionately patting the mouse that climbed onto her shoulder. She then said, "Open the door."

"I can’t open the door!" Abigail thought, but she quickly realized the words were not for her. The guard unlocked the door, the woman in purple gestured for Abigail to come out.

"Am I being released?" Abigail stood still.

The scene in front of her was so suspicious, the guard looked dazed, the woman in purple had half of her face covered with dark red curly hair, wearing a dress that didn’t look formal at all, holding a small jar with a seal on it, wearing high heels. Abigail looked down and saw the super high heels, noticing two strange animals on either side of the shoes. In the dim light, she struggled to see for a while, then realized one was a skinny cat and the other was a chubby dog.

"On the left is Hot, and on the right is Kalamara," the woman in purple smiled warmly.

"Hello…" Abigail reluctantly spoke, "Who are you then?"

"Evil Eye," the woman said straightforwardly.

Who would call for this? Even though Abigail had told herself ten times not to say anything unnecessary, she couldn’t help but ask, "Is your name Evil Eye?"

"Of course not, I’m called Medusa." The woman gave her a strange look, as if she was the strange one. Before Abigail could answer, Medusa continued cheerfully, "So what are you then? Shadow? Flame? Oh, I remember now, it’s flame, your mother said so."

Abigail’s mother passed away when she was just one year old, she took a small step back, feeling like the other person was completely crazy.

She cautiously said, "Could you be mistaking me for someone else?"

"No, Abigail, right? Yes, we know your mother has passed away." Medusa said cheerfully, "She asked us for help, and your father agreed. Luckily, we arrived just in time, otherwise your seal might have failed shortly, and you could have accidentally burned yourself to death, then the witch would have lost one more."

"Are you out of your mind?" Abigail muttered, "You must have mistaken me…"

"Please, stop wasting time!" a sigh came from inside the jar.

Abigail looked at the jar that could definitely not fit a head inside, and gasped.

"Alright." Medusa adjusted her hair, "We need to catch the carriage, let’s set off first and then talk!"

She walked towards Abigail, who tensed up, ready to turn around as the other person approached from behind. She nervously stared at Medusa, who looked at her easily, her wine-red hair swept behind her ears, revealing a face identical to the right half.

No, the right eye, it seems to be a different color.

The woman with wine-red hair has a wine-red left eye, with something seemingly rotating in the wine-red iris. Abigail’s gaze couldn’t move away once it landed there, her eyes following it, and suddenly everything went black.

When she opened her eyes again, the sky was bright.

Abigail sat in a swaying carriage, staring blankly at the sunlight streaming through the small window, suddenly remembering everything. She recalled the woman with dragon wings, the shadows of the basement, the rats, and the flames. She snapped her fingers, and a flame rose from her fingers, illuminating her face.

Medusa sat on the other side of the carriage, gently stroking her cat and dog. She smiled broadly at the awakened Abigail, her wine-red hair now covering the left side of her face again. Abigail glanced at the small pots in the shadows, then at the sunlight outside, and couldn’t help but rush towards the latter, pulling the curtain completely open and sticking her head out.

It was a vast wilderness, the sun shining brightly, glinting on the green grass – but this wasn’t what captivated Abigail. Was it something she saw? Heard? Smelled? Touched? Tasted? She didn’t know, but, but…

The whole world was completely different from before.

How to describe it? If this was sight, she saw faint flickers of light in the air, floating like dandelion seeds, not belonging to any spectrum, encompassing everything yet detached; if this was hearing, she heard the gentle singing of all things, each with its own language, incomprehensible but enticing Abigail’s soul… Ah, impossible to discern, she smelled the pungent metal, tasted the soft sunlight, touched the fragrance of flowers. Abigail realized at that moment that this was not any of the five senses. She had gained a new sense, where the newly perceived merged harmoniously with her old world, all so unified and in sync.

Abigail couldn’t find the right words to describe it, her vocabulary limited to human senses. Like a colorblind person seeing a rainbow for the first time, like a naturally deaf person hearing heavenly music, like a fish born in a tank leaping into the ocean, Abigail suddenly felt free. The vastness of the world almost scared her, but just like no fish drowns, her new senses expanded in this wilderness, feeling completely at ease. Abigail reached out to the sky, and the lights approached her, making her shine like a torch.

Phew! A firebird shot up from her palm and flew into the sky.

Abigail fell backwards, her vision darkening but she couldn’t stop smiling. Medusa giggled as she lifted her from the floor of the carriage, and when the soft hands of the woman in purple robe brushed against her cheek, Abigail realized she was crying.

"Am I a witch?" the girl trembled.

"You are a Flame Witch," Medusa replied with a playful smile, "but if you can’t defeat your mother in seventeen years, you will die, you know?"

"Oh, okay," Abigail said dizzily.

"Are you shocked?" Medusa asked curiously, as she fidgeted around barefoot, pulling down the curtains like she had ADHD.

"Not really, I mean, I’m not that scared," Abigail breathed heavily, reaching for a jar. Something in the shadows brushed her hand, like a gentle slap. Medusa said, "Your mother is sleeping, don’t wake her!"

Abigail chuckled foolishly, touching her reddened hand. She realized she wasn’t afraid, even if she would die in seventeen years, it wasn’t that scary. Abigail was a witch, she could do magic; her mother was a witch too, not dead but hiding in the shadows, and in seventeen years, they would have a fight, like a dazzling battle between a dragon-winged woman and a room full of shadows. So she truly was extraordinary, her life would be filled with adventures, not trapped in the dull safety of everyday life, like thousands of ordinary people born in mediocrity and dying in silence.

In the past, Abigail was thought to be a girl who loved daydreaming. But now, her true self emerged: like a moth to a flame, she passionately loves adventure and challenges. She was born for this, willing to die for this.

She sat slumped in her seat for a while, remembering other important things. Abigail sat up straight in a rush and asked, "Where’s my dad? What about Uncle Edwin? Are they okay?"

"Don’t worry, your dad knew we were bringing you here," said Medusa. "As for your uncle, he’s a wizard, always being closely watched, so we couldn’t get him out."

"What? No, we have to go save him!" Abigail jumped up, spinning around in a panic. "Spellcasters will be hanged!"

"Oh, the policies outside have changed these days. They’re recruiting wizards up there. Those people over there need them, pampering them with good food and drinks," Medusa said somewhat disdainfully. "Hmph, just recruiting wizards. Even if they recruited witches, we wouldn’t go. We’ll stand with the victors, not letting them keep us like pets."

Abigail paused at the words, then remembered to ask where they were going. Medusa gestured outside and said, "Tasmarin is southeast, see, we’re almost there!"

The carriage came to a stop.

Abigail peered out, noticing that the road had become very crowded at some point. Carriages, horses, and pedestrians jostled on the road, bustling and waiting to enter the checkpoint up ahead.

"So many people," Abigail muttered to herself.

Medusa also squeezed her head out of the window, and the mice in her hair almost scared Abigail into falling back. The older witch looked around and chuckled, "You should say, ‘So many non-humans here.’"

On closer look, there were indeed many strange beings here. Some very short people waved sticks to avoid being stepped on, while others were unusually tall and stood out. Some had pale skin with a hint of blue, others had scales that shimmered. Many pairs of furry ears stood tall in the sunlight, some looked soft to touch while others seemed like they needed a good wash. With so many peculiar-looking people around, everyone shed their tightly wrapped hoods and veils, finally able to breathe freely.

The procession moved forward slowly, getting livelier as they went on.

Two Cyclops spotted each other from afar, both straightening their habitually hunched backs in surprise and waving at each other, never expecting to find someone as tall as themselves. A group of dwarfs made their way through the crowd to join them, discussing their elders’ names and patting each other’s backs loudly. A man who had just emptied his last bottle of water sighed in distress, only to receive a cup filled with water from someone nearby. Gratefully, he turned towards the person pouring water on their head, receiving a sympathetic smile in return.

"Are witches a type of race?"

Abigail withdrew her gaze, knowing it was their turn next.

"Yes, one Flame Witch, one Evil Eye Witch, one Shadow Witch, that’s the three of us here." Medusa counted on her fingers, shaking the jar and being weakly slapped by the shadow. A staff member with rabbit ears glanced at them nonchalantly while jotting down notes, saying, "Oh, then we have six witches here."

"Six?" Abigail said in amazement.

She was struck by a peculiar feeling.

Different from the excitement of finding out she was a witch, this felt like a warm stream around her heart. Her heart beat fast as she looked at all the different people around her, including the new relatives and fellow witches. It felt unbelievable and made her extremely happy.

We are not alone.

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