Chapter 166
Chapter 166
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 166
Chapter Title: The Witch of Contracts
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1.
The Altai Mountains.
This range, meaning "Golden Mountains" in Mongolian, stretches over 1,600 kilometers from the Gobi Desert to the West Siberian Plain, crossing four countries— Mongolia, Kazakhstan, Russia, and China—from southeast to northwest.
A newly formed, jagged river wound across the vast plain, flanked by sparse birches and larches that rustled in the fierce winds racing through the valleys.
Mountain peaks pierced a sky so piercingly blue it stung the eyes, capped with eternal snow like hats, while untamed slopes along the ridges teemed with wild goats leaping about.
In this majestic landscape that could make even nonbelievers praise the divine, a petite woman stood.
Though she exuded a mature aura, her appearance was so youthful—barely out of adolescence—that "girl" suited her better than "lady."
But anyone seeing her for the first time would need a moment to notice.
For the girl's hair and eyes held a mystique surpassing even the Altai's natural wonders.
Her luscious, pale pink long hair and magenta irises evoked a bewitching fox's allure, ensnaring the soul.
Her otherworldliness wasn't just skin-deep.
This was rugged terrain, dozens of kilometers in a straight line from the nearest nomadic settlements.
Yet here she stood, without a guide, dressed as lightly as if out for a stroll, her feet planted on the icy surface of a glacial lake.
And if she wielded a pristine white sword longer than herself, the strangeness doubled.
"........."
Mana ripples began emanating from her.
Magenta reflections danced at the corners of her eyes.
The mirror-smooth water surface, undisturbed until now, churned like a storm-tossed sea under the dense mana outburst.
A small spherical subspace barrier expanded from her, gradually devouring the surrounding scenery.
10m, 20m, 100m, 500m, 1km, 5km, 10km.
Even a simplified subspace barrier supplied by Duke Keter would consume vast mana at this scale.
Yet her straight brows—adorably firm, without a trace of playfulness—betrayed no disturbance.
"You've come."
The girl murmured softly and stomped the water's surface.
The lake erupted in a deafening boom and spray, like a torpedo exploding.
Astonishingly, no magic was involved.
The pink-haired girl had simply kicked with all her might.
Pure leg strength had shattered physical laws.
With one leap, she crossed the hundreds-of-meters-wide lake, hurtling toward her target.
Each step exploded the ground like a bomb.
Her supersonic sprint uprooted innocent larches with mere grazes and shattered the lake.
After about ten seconds, she halted abruptly on a highland meadow thick with grass.
She had located the homunculus "Red Knight," which had fled into subspace to hide from her.
"........."
It stood roughly 2 meters tall.
True to its name, it was clad head to toe in ominously deep crimson armor.
Sensing the halted girl, it glanced her way.
It had recovered in subspace from wounds she inflicted earlier, appearing unscathed.
Most homunculi bore no names.
Each was unique, and once discovered, they were hunted and never resummoned—naming them was inefficient.
So what did a named homunculus signify?
It meant a notorious survivor of ages.
Like a label of "bounty" on exiles harming witches and humans, this grotesque red-armored homunculus bore the moniker "Red Knight."
Since its discovery in the Apennine Mountains 500 years ago, it had slain hundreds of thousands of civilians and reverse-hunted seven pursuing witches—a monster forged by the Creation Witch.
The Red Knight raised its crimson spear, matching its armor.
Simultaneously, the eyes beneath its helm snapped open.
Fifteen pairs of unsettlingly curved eyes—mocking its foe—fixed on the girl.
Undaunted by the eerie gaze, she gripped her sword.
The grip creaked under her monstrous grip strength.
"Enough of you. Let's end this here."
Her body tilted diagonally, gripping the hilt with both hands.
Before the divine power bound by "Contract," petty human techniques like half-swording were needless.
She needed only a stance to unleash all her might.
"I contract."
With the brief incantation, fairy script floated along the flat of her pristine white sword, "Contract Sword," initiating the pact.
Contract One: Full-body muscle strength amplification. Contract Two: Full-body muscle explosive power amplification. Contract Three: Full-body muscle flexibility enhancement. Contract Four: Convert all paid mana into a single slash. Contract Five: Ignore distance between parties. Contract Six: Cleave all in the sword's path.
⟨ Contract Sword ⟩
Each contract exponentially intensified the mana pressure, crushing the surroundings.
The Red Knight, unwilling to spectate, aimed its "Red Branch" at her.
"I'll cleave you."
Her legs, rooted like ancient trees, brimmed with stability.
Her front foot anchored her weight and power to the earth, shaking the ground as her rear foot exploded soil backward for propulsion.
A strike that seemed to slice space itself.
So flawlessly swift—no sound, no wind—the sword cleaved empty air at invisible speeds.
Simultaneously, dark crimson barriers lashed out from the Red Branch's tip.
2.
The vast subspace barrier retracted.
As its edges contracted like a tightening noose, the slash's destruction was repaired—from the fringes inward.
The lake, obliterated by sword-wind aftershocks.
The mountains, gouged like cheese across the slash's range.
All restored to their original state.
With the barrier gone, only peaceful alpine meadows remained.
Duke Eloa Tiferet casually reverse-summoned her Contract Sword and clicked her tongue.
"Tch."
Missed again.
Not even the slash that bisected mountains and the Red Knight hundreds of meters away pierced the barriers from the Red Branch.
"It planned to flee from the start..."
She had thought its sudden subspace emergence meant it was finally ready to fight.
But post-defense, the Red Knight tore through dimensional seams and vanished.
Homunculi possess innate dimension-hopping.
Dormant in subspace, they rampage worldwide when active.
The Red Branch's distortion amplified this escape precisely, and its humanoid intellect wielded it adeptly.
Thus, despite seven clashes and victories in her year-long pursuit, Eloa never claimed its head.
Win or not, any slight opening prompted instant flight.
This time, a month's grueling wilderness survival was wasted, but Eloa felt no great irritation.
Fled prey could be chased anew.
Tracking specific homunculi across the world took immense time generally—but Eloa differed.
Post-fifth clash, she secured a tracking method.
One of her twelve "contracts" bound the Red Knight: "Fix mutual positions."
Thus, she vividly sensed it, far distant.
A dozens-of-kilometers margin of error still narrowed the search immensely.
Her experience slaying hundreds taught her: homunculus jumps had limits.
Cooldowns existed, lengthening with distance.
The Red Knight, usually hopping short evasions, fled far this time.
Meaning no sneaky short jumps soon.
Eloa crouched and accelerated into a sprint.
Nearing supersonic, she covered kilometers per minute.
Eloa halted at the sudden cellphone alarm.
Long in remote areas, now in signal range, backed-up emails flooded in.
"........."
Reading the subjects, the duke froze in place.
Dozens of similar emails arrived.
As founder of global waypoints, all homunculus and bounty intel converged on Tiferet Duke.
For Eloa, fixated on crushing Ea, such reports topped all priorities.
Though dozens, their message was one: Bounty Ea Sadalmelik—killer of Eloa's apprentice witch a century ago—was dead.
Dead?
That cockroach who fled like vermin.
That wretch she'd grind to dust fingertip by fingertip.
Just... dead?
Eloa felt the thread barely holding her snap.
Two scenes flashed.
Herself permitting her apprentice "Rafi"—begging for playtime outings—to visit the mortal world.
Herself, cradling Rafi's cooling corpse in a dingy warehouse, screaming in anguish.
That day, she vowed.
To live for vengeance against the fiend who slew her innocent apprentice and stole her vessel.
But her revenge ended.
No one could punish the already dead.
No atonement, no soul-soothing.
Her rage snuffed, her right to fury stolen—just over.
"Rafi... Rafi..."
Legs buckling, Eloa collapsed, whispering her beloved disciple's name.
After dazed murmuring, she struggled up.
Nothing confirmed yet.
Rumors, perhaps.
Verify immediately.
To return to Gehenna, Eloa injected mana into her citizen ID and plunged into the nearby Blue River.