Chapter 708
Chapter 708
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Translator: Ebonarch
Chapter: 708
Chapter Title: Witch of the Gold Coins (4)
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Ars Magna Town, reached in a single step through the portal.
Eloa's footsteps pounded fiercely toward the Veritas Conclave's academy hall—specifically, Duke Erelim's chambers.
It wasn't just her footsteps that were rough.
The vast grounds of the academy were sparsely populated, but every witch she passed swallowed hard at the sight of her.
Eloa herself could scarcely gauge just how ferocious her expression must have been.
-Thud thud thud!
Climbing the stairs with reckless force, Eloa restrained the urge to kick the door down and instead rapped on it sharply.
Even suppressing it, her rage spread like wildfire.
On her way to Si-woo, the impulse to slash through every obstacle clawing at her ankles raged like a starving beast.
"What brings you here?"
The door opened.
A stature a half-head taller than Eloa.
Jet-black hair contrasting sharply with silver-and-white eyes.
Blanche Erelim, clad in a loose nightgown, remained utterly composed despite Eloa's sudden visit.
As if she had anticipated her arrival.
"Forgive the late hour. But I have words that must be spoken."
Their gazes met in the air.
Eloa's eyes brimming with barely contained fury, Blanche's utterly impassive.
"Come in."
Blanche wordlessly opened the door wider to welcome her.
She then called toward the bedroom.
"Countess Cohab."
"Yes."
A rustling came from beyond the wall, followed by Yvonne Cohab's voice.
Everyone knew Duke Erelim and Countess Cohab were lovers, so their presence together in the dead of night was no surprise.
"Prepare some black tea."
"No need. This is a matter of utmost urgency."
"The conversation will drag on."
"It needn't. What possessed you to obstruct me like this?"
Magic is greatly influenced by emotion.
Already, mana residue swirled around Eloa like heat haze—enough to make any ordinary witch unable to lift her head.
"This way."
Yet Duke Erelim showed no intimidation whatsoever as she gestured for Eloa to sit.
"If this is a waste of time, you won't escape my wrath."
Eloa tamped down her anger first and took a seat.
Duke Erelim, also called Gehenna's Grand Sage, was not one to act without purpose.
"To the point: grant me leave to depart."
"I cannot."
-Bang!
Eloa's fist slammed down on the table like a hail of arrows.
The sturdy oak table crumbled like a cookie, its splintered fragments hovering in the air, held back by Duke Erelim's telekinesis.
"I won't bill you separately."
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
"I said I cannot. You've come to ask my reasons, haven't you?"
With a light pulse of mana from Duke Erelim, the oak table restored itself to its pre-shattered state.
But the atmosphere, now sharp as shattered glass, refused to revert.
Eloa ignored Countess Cohab entirely as she brought the tea, fixing her glare on Blanche alone.
"Tiferet, the world has changed. Even now, it's changing."
"No time for riddles..."
"I know why you wish to enter the mortal realm."
Blanche paused briefly before continuing.
"It's because of the male witch, isn't it? Your disciple... and lover."
"Indeed."
Cohab, standing behind Duke Erelim, was startled, but Eloa maintained her composure.
It was no revelation.
Duke Erelim was head of the Veritas Conclave and commanded more followers than anyone.
With so many ears and eyes at her disposal, it was only natural she'd possess such intelligence.
"First, my deepest condolences for your current plight. But precisely because of that reason, I must dissuade you all the more."
"Spare me the preamble."
"Hexennacht's growth is explosive. They've already amassed peak Cliport-level forces and pose a grave threat to Gehenna."
"I know."
But there was also something Eloa had overlooked.
"Tiferet, Hexennacht's rapid expansion owes much to your influence as well."
Eloa's brow furrowed.
Since losing Rafi, she hated heretics more than anyone.
She swore to the heavens she had done nothing to aid them.
"You're powerful. And hostile to heretics... and to the witch-hunters alike."
Only then did Eloa grasp the point Duke Erelim was driving at.
She scoffed in response.
"My sweeping purges sparked their unity, is that it?"
"Precisely. A common external enemy fosters internal solidarity. The fiercer your campaigns, the faster and stronger they bond. Even more than now."
Purely in terms of cause and effect, Duke Erelim's words weren't wrong.
"Amusing. If we're nitpicking from there, I'll point out that publicly acknowledging Keter's demise was your own reckless blunder."
"A matter of timing. They would have deciphered the prophecy eventually anyway."
"Yet you could have prepared more thoroughly by then."
Had Duke Erelim not proclaimed the prophecy's decryption during Amelia's trial, Hexennacht's formation would have been delayed.
The simultaneous assaults on waypoints worldwide wouldn't have happened, nor would Eloa have needed to respond so aggressively to quell them.
But Eloa held back the many retorts.
This wasn't the place to apportion blame.
"Very well, even if that was a mistake, I did what was right. Is building a cabal that forsakes human duty for the sake of magic truly wrong?"
"......"
"Must I have abandoned the embattled waypoints and watched vile heretics rampage through the mortal realm? Would that have left Hexennacht less united than now? There's a limit even to jests, Duke Erelim."
You yourself witnessed the Second World War unfold. What came of the victors of the First indulging appeasement toward the Nazis preparing for war out of fear? Answer me.
Eloa closed her eyes, revolted by this pointless back-and-forth when she yearned to unleash a tirade.
"I have no desire to waste time on such meaningless talk. If you deny my leave, I'll force my way through."
"I have no intention of diminishing your devotion to witch society."
"Spare the apologies. Tell your followers it was my unilateral decision—just let me go."
"I cannot."
Countess Cohab, observing from behind, stiffened.
Overt hostility poured from the petite frame in a pinkish vortex of mana.
"Please understand, Tiferet."
Eloa shot to her feet as if she refused to hear another word.
Staying seated longer, she couldn't trust herself not to draw her sword.
"If you go to Hexennacht, war will break out."
"......"
Duke Erelim's conviction halted Eloa in her tracks.
No matter her rage, she couldn't ignore such words.
"Hexennacht is currently split into two factions right now.
The hardliners centered on the former Cliports, and the moderates rising around the Solidus Merchant Guild. They're in sharp opposition at present, but the moment you set foot there, the balance shatters."
"I only seek to rescue my disciple."
"Success or failure, the outcome is the same. The former gives them justification for a duke-level preemptive strike; the latter fuels the hardliners' momentum with the triumph of purging Tiferet, long their nightmare."
Even Eloa hadn't known such internal details.
"To be frank: I'm in contact with the Solidus Guildmaster, the Witch of the Gold Coins, negotiating a mutual non-aggression pact."
"Nonsense. Do you truly believe they seek genuine peace?"
They're evil incarnate. Uncompromising, irredeemable evil that must be eradicated. If your goal is a peace treaty with those monsters, that only gives me more reason to head to Hexennacht.
A non-aggression pact with heretics?
For Eloa, with her deep-seated grudge, it was an outrage beyond endurance.
"You mentioned the Second World War. You know why France feared it too. In the First, France lost 1.3 million soldiers and 400,000 civilians. A quarter of men in their twenties perished."
Humans rebound quickly from such losses through breeding, but witches do not.
Gehenna would win a full-scale war with Hexennacht. But must we fight a war whose only spoils are wounds?
Without Keter, the casualties will be uncontrollable. Twice as many innocent witches as in the last war will die simply for bearing Gehenna's name.
"......"
"This isn't about blindly tolerating their depravity. We'll restrict attacks on fellow witches and apprentices."
"......"
"Witches number a mere handful compared to humanity's 7.7 billion. With minor regulations, we can compromise without collapsing infrastructure."
Eloa fell silent.
Not swayed by Erelim's words, nor moved to condemn them.
Witch supremacism wasn't a notion born yesterday.
"Keter's edicts were overly idealistic, overly human-friendly. Hexennacht's rise proves it. Her rules, dependent on one person, collapse the instant that 'one' is gone."
She knew many orthodox witches shared Duke Erelim's views.
Eloa herself had, before losing Rafi.
Tragedies in some distant island nation barely rippled daily life; most witches ignored mortal realm chaos.
Even if the mortal world neared annihilation, witches possessed the power to survive independently.
Duke Erelim was saying: Must witches kill each other for humanity's sake?
"Enough. I understand."
"You'll yield?"
Eloa gazed at Duke Erelim—perhaps a mirror of her past self.
Then spoke with resolve.
"Convene the council and exile me. Proclaim this my sole whim."
Not a perfect solution, but the surest way to avert war.
For her to relinquish her ducal rank.
"I've devoted over a century to witch society's stability. This time, I'll act for my own desires."
"......"
With that, she departed the mansion.
Duke Erelim did not bar her way.
As Eloa moved to breach the mortal realm forthwith, someone appeared before her.
Attired for rugged terrain, much like Eloa herself.
A blonde witch in thick jeans and a windbreaker, towing a large suitcase.
"I'll help too."
It was Amelia Marygold—the staunchest ally imaginable at this moment.