Chapter 356
Chapter 356
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 356
Chapter Title: The Witch of Desires
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1.
The witch city of Gehenna.
It was no stretch at all to describe this city—created to prop up the privileged class of chosen witches—with the word "abundant."
Beautiful natural landscapes untouched by the air pollution from chemical fuels or the indiscriminate dumping of trash.
Even a simple inn, preserved across generations without being caught up in war or destruction, carried its own charm and lingering allure.
Not only the witches of Gehenna, but even the serving citizens, enjoyed the city's peace.
For hundreds of years.
But all abundance comes at a price.
A thick shadow loomed over Gehenna's seemingly warm prosperity.
In this Gehenna, where everything seemed steeped only in beauty, there was a group exploited in the darkness that no eyes reached, no attention touched—expiating their sins.
Private slaves, not belonging to the city hall.
Death row prisoners sponsored by the heads of various nations in pacts with the nobility.
Most private slaves bought by Border Town smugglers ended up ground down at the docks.
They died before even ten years in grueling labor stretching over twelve hours a day, whippings, meager meals, no guaranteed rest days, and unreasonable toil.
Everyone in Gehenna took this as a given.
They were convicts doomed to die anyway, sold to Gehenna to atone for their karma, after all.
Before debating if this form of punishment was right or wrong, few raised their voices calling it unreasonable.
Aside from the parties involved, that is.
A shabby warehouse at Border Town's port.
Abandoned for decades because the facilities were too old and new warehouses had been built, it was little more than ruins.
Thanks to the constant drizzling fog in Border Town, the damp, dark, rundown warehouse evoked the image of a sewer.
And the voices coming from inside? The squeaks of sewer rats, no doubt.
"Cut it out and step aside. I want a turn too."
"This fucking prick's been rushing me forever. Move it, you pig bastard."
A woman lying weakly on a pile of straw, legs spread.
Two men arguing in front of the five lined up behind her.
A bonfire in the middle of the warehouse, using wooden crates as fuel, and scattered liquor bottles.
The two dozen or so men gathered here were all private slaves—smugglers' death row purchases.
"Pig bastard? What did you just say?"
The chubby man, fighting over who got to enjoy the slave about to be sold to a brothel first, trembled with rage, his double chin quivering.
The muscular man who'd been pinning her down pulled up his pants and stepped forward.
The pig outweighed him, but the musclehead's menace was far fiercer.
"Got a problem? Pedo pig bastard? Back in prison, I'd beat the shit out of scum like you. Lucky for you this ain't jail."
"Fucking prick acting tough 'cause you killed a couple people before. How many'd you kill? Just the ones you got?"
The pig man, who'd tolerated the subtle disdain for a while, had cheap bravado fueling his head tonight, thanks to the booze.
He grabbed a nearby rolling beer bottle with his pudgy hand and smashed it.
All eyes focused, jeers echoing.
The mood was ugly, but no one took the fight seriously.
"Kuhaha! Look at that loser smashing a bottle."
"Gonna stab with it?"
The musclehead smirked and drew a knife from his belt.
"Pig, perfect timing. I've hated your guts forever. Tonight's pig gut stew."
"Buffoon balloon-muscle prick talking big."
Normal slaves couldn't act individually, touch women, or drink.
But these guys were "decemvirs"—slightly special among the worthless slaves.
Slaves were misfits, psychos, criminals, murderers, rapists.
Social dregs slated for disposal by the massive national system—impossible for smugglers to control one by one.
How do you make lazy, disunited sewer rats work?
Appoint the most violent, vicious ones as bosses.
Promise them slightly better treatment and perks.
Of course, the reward was a rat's tail of privilege.
But humans in desperation would slaughter kin for an extra bread slice—they're selfish beasts. The smugglers' strategy was brilliant.
Decemvirs wrangled slaves in the same boat, managing spots middlemen couldn't reach.
"Enough."
Just as blades were about to clash.
A man stepped between them.
The guy who'd been sitting blankly by the bonfire, watching it all.
"Boss! You saw it! That fucker called me a pig bastard…!"
Skinhead with beady eyes gleaming.
A long scar across his face.
The gang's leader, nicknamed Knife Jack.
"Guwek!"
He mercilessly grabbed the pig man's nape and smashed his nose with a knee.
Not just once.
Bone-crunching sounds rang out several times in brutal, relentless knee strikes.
The screaming pig collapsed in a heap. Jack flicked the shattered teeth embedded in his knee and blew his nose.
"If it bugs you, lose weight. How the hell do you eat to get that piggy fat all by yourself?"
"Kuh… kuh… S-sorry… My bad."
"Yeah, what's the point of us fighting? We promised to get along. Go finish her off."
"Uh, uh…."
Jack mediated the petty squabble, patted the apologizing, nosebleeding pig's shoulder, and plopped down.
The rowdy bunch fell silent one by one.
Fucking retarded assholes.
Spending life with these pricks was soul-crushing.
How long till this bullshit ends?
First year, he dreamed of raping some arrogant witch and escaping this hellhole city.
Now he knew witches' overwhelming power; best he could do was play boss among these retards.
No hope for revenge, no future.
Just drag out this pathetic existence till death.
He thought such a life didn't suit him, but with no way out, he huddled up.
"Bored, huh?"
Jack, chugging beer, heard an intruder's voice.
A languid whisper right beside him.
Startled, he looked— a witch.
Graceful waves of peach-blonde hair, emerald eyes.
She sat casually on a rickety crate like one of them, as if she'd been there all along.
"Wh-what…."
"Why's a witch here all sudden…."
They weren't doing anything wrong, per se.
Touching women, occasional booze—all minor perks for being decemvirs.
But a witch popping into their dingy hideout? Enough to unsettle everyone.
Murmurs and unease spread instantly.
"What brings you to this dump?"
"To explain, I should introduce myself."
The stunning sudden witch smiled brightly and crossed her legs.
"I'm a good fairy who grants people's desires. Also called the Witch of Desires, Bianca Verilia. Just call me Bianca."
While they reeled from the breezy intro.
One decemvir nearby groveled at her feet.
"Greetings, noble witch! Name's Harvey! If you take me, I'll serve you devotedly! Please buy me!"
Sold as a private slave to a witch.
An adventure with unknown aftermath.
Some witches just used them as servants or sex slaves, but others ran cruel, legal magic experiments.
Still, Harvey bet his life.
The others regretted not jumping first.
All sick of slave life.
Envious enough of Harvey's risky, arrogant gamble to risk their necks.
Everyone held their breath, watching Bianca.
How would this sudden witch handle a slave butting into conversation?
"Harvey, huh?"
"Y-yes! Healthy body, I'll do anything you ask!"
"Yeah? You look feisty, like you said."
Bianca reached out, stroking his cheek.
No anger or annoyance in her faint smile.
"Buying you might be a stretch… but I'll grant your desire instead. Wanna look in my eyes?"
Bianca lifted his chin, locking eyes.
Her thin tongue lewdly licked her upper lip.
Realizing desires.
Sweet words.
Maybe this randy witch was scouting a one-night slave.
Harvey met her eerily beautiful emerald gaze with swelling anticipation.
"Hmm, you're starving right now?"
"Y-yes."
Harvey stared blankly at Bianca.
First time seeing a witch so directly, so close.
Stunningly breathtaking.
Her emerald eyes deprived him of looking anywhere else.
"Hm, only got this now. Wanna eat it anyway?"
Bianca pulled out a massive tub of barbecue from her bosom—how'd she even carry it?
Thick rind scored in a grid, crispy outside, juicy inside.
Worlds apart from Border Town's usual meat in size and quality.
"R-really… can I?"
"Of course. I told you—I'd realize your desire."
Seeing juices drip, Harvey gaped and bit in.
This meat.
Incredible.
Subtle butter from the crispy surface, rosemary aroma.
Perfect pork.
Ecstatic delicacy delighting his tongue after years—Harvey tore in ravenously.
"Ugk…! Ugk…! Th-thank you…! F-first time… for meat this… this good… Best… best…."
Bianca petted the gorging Harvey's head, then turned back to Jack.
"That should cover the intro. Enough?"
-Smack! Smack! Smack!
"Sh-she's insane…."
"S-someone stop her…."
"How the fuck?! You go…!"
"Urk…!"
Then it came.
Chewing tough raw flesh, shattering bone.
Swallowing warm, wet blood inside.
Amid the ominous sounds, faces paled.
Some retched.
From the moment he talked to the witch, Harvey happily devoured his own left arm.
Didn't care if teeth broke on bone, or tough arteries snapped after chews.
He ate long, then collapsed in his self-made blood pool.
Blood flowed to Bianca's feet, blooming on her white shoe tip.
"Get who I am now?"
No witch kills pointlessly like this.
Only one guess for a witch who could.
"…Exile…."
"Right, and a specially treated Public Enemy at that. Deep grudges against witches leisurely living in Gehenna, like you."
Bianca lit a cigarette, whispering to Jack.
"Pissed? Angry? You've only been done in till now. Gonna live like bugs till you die for nothing crimes?"
Jack eyed the witch.
Trembling in fear, but he felt it.
The one to change this limp, nauseating drudgery was right there.
"What do I do?"
"Not hard. I'll give you power. Power to revenge on witches who scorned and mocked you. Hear my terms… you'll bite."
Bianca smiled at the shuddering slaves.