Chapter 603: Did You Sleep Well?
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 603: Did You Sleep Well?
“I will cut down the Walking Fire.”
Encrid’s voice echoed from within the mirror. The moment Esther heard his words, she transformed into a panther and bolted.
A natural panther would have lacked the endurance to run all day, but she was a witch. To her, such a feat was possible. Besides, at a panther's speed, Cross Guard was not that far away.
Fortunately, she had been strolling along the banks of the Pen-Hanil River rather than staying in Border Guard, placing her much closer to her destination. She dashed toward Cross Guard with single-minded focus.
Crossing the river was a simple matter with a spell like 'Del Grecher’s Promenade.' Thin ice formed beneath her paws as she ran, serving as stepping stones for every leap. She shifted into her human form briefly to cast the spell, but her physical momentum remained, keeping her speed far beyond that of any ordinary person.
She sprinted onward, shifting between panther and human forms whenever necessary. Though the constant transformation drained both her physical stamina and her mana, it was incredibly fast.
Am I still too late?
The thought didn't breed hesitation. If she stopped just because she might be late, that would be the end of it.
Esther ran. The trail left by Apostle Anella, who had manifested the Walking Fire, was so distinct that tracking her was effortless. As she crossed the river and neared Cross Guard, Esther instinctively changed direction.
An elite witch knew how to read the lingering traces of a spell. This could not be a coincidence; it had to be connected to Encrid. If they were heading this way, it was only right to intercept any trouble before it reached him.
Decision and action occurred as one. There was no need to wait for the stars to rise to read the constellations; the scent of mana was thick enough to choke on.
As she dashed forward, she soon reached the ground where the spell had been unleashed. At least a hundred corpses littered the area. To be precise, she saw a massive pit that had been reduced to nothing but ash by raging flames.
A Forbidden Scripture. An Annihilation Spell.
It really was the Walking Fire. This was the aftermath of an Annihilation Spell—a type of Forbidden Scripture that only ceased once everything in the vicinity was completely obliterated.
As she approached the pit, a Twin-Headed Human-Faced Dog lunged at her from the shadows. Having already sensed its presence, she didn't hesitate.
“Demuiller’s Scythe.”
Esther waved her hand. Following that seemingly casual gesture, the wind coalesced into a razor-sharp blade.
Slash!
The spell split into two heavy wind blades, cleaving the monster’s two heads from their crowns down to the torso. The human-faced dog—now split into three pieces—collapsed, spraying black blood and entrails. Carried by its residual momentum, the halves slid across the ground before finally coming to a halt.
With her hand still raised, Esther turned her gaze toward a specific patch of empty air. A Perception Disruption Spell had been cast there. She had detected it purely through instinct. Now that she had found it, there was only one thing left to do: attack.
She formed hand seals to channel her mana, chanting runic words to summon an entity stored within her Spell World.
“Come forth, Bonehead.”
It was an improved version of the Flesh Golem created by the mage Encrid had previously defeated. At her gesture, a circle of light etched itself into the ground, and flesh and blood wove together to manifest the golem. The moment it appeared, the creature charged forward mindlessly.
The most effective way to break a perception disruption was to apply overwhelming physical force.
As the golem kicked off the ground with a heavy thud and lunged, a faint black veil rippled and dispersed. A voice drifted out from the void.
“How dare you.”
A woman leaped out from the fading illusion. Esther saw her face but ignored her completely, her fingers never stopping their rhythmic dance of hand seals.
She’s no ordinary opponent.
Ignoring her didn't mean Esther underestimated her; it simply meant that speed was the only thing that mattered right now. The mana radiating from the woman was dizzying—proof that she possessed a denser power than Esther did at this moment. Esther was still in the process of rebuilding her mana, while a purple aura billowed aggressively over the opponent’s shoulders.
“A mere witch...”
The woman spoke with the characteristic arrogance of one who claimed to be an Apostle of God.
While forming her seals, Esther reflected on her current state. Thanks to Encrid, her curse was almost entirely gone, but she was still rebuilding her Spell World. She had yet to regain her former strength. Did that put her at a disadvantage? Perhaps. But that was no reason to stop.
Out of all the countless "todays" she had lived, there was this specific today—the day Encrid had contacted her through the mirror. And every single time, she had run all the way here without a second thought.
“O Demon God, here are the adopted sons and daughters who wish to become your children!” Apostle Anella cried out.
She, too, recognized that Esther was no ordinary witch. Reflexively, she drew the sword she had prepared to follow the Walking Fire. From among the corpses, modified ghouls that had lost their sanity lunged forward. Every one of them was a monster with dangerously enhanced physical capabilities. Skeleton Soldiers rose as well, their bones reassembling with a dry rattle. It was a technique that harmonized necromancy with Anella's innate spells.
Their bodies erupted into flames. A horde of burning monsters surged forward. It was a weapon she couldn't use alongside the Walking Fire, as they would have consumed each other, but it was a lethal finishing blow against those already exhausted from blocking the initial disaster.
Esther did not allow even a single spark to touch her. She unsummoned Bonehead to recover a sliver of mana; countering physical force with physical force wasn't the answer here.
“Del Grecher’s Territory Marking.”
A Borrowing Spell allowed a witch to draw upon the essence of another entity. If Demuiller was a wind spirit who took pleasure in the thrill of the slaughter, Del Grecher was an entity transformed from a four-legged beast that lived on glaciers and loved long, quiet strolls.
Esther was a genius who knew exactly how to blend Borrowing Spells with Creation Spells.
“Burn and turn to ash!” Anella screamed.
As an Apostle who commanded disasters, her talent for manipulating fire was exceptional. The flames clinging to the ghouls roared, growing larger by the second.
Over them, Esther unleashed a spell she had perfected in the past, even if it wasn't yet fully refined in her current state.
“Permafrost.”
Crack.
Ice crystals bloomed from beneath Esther’s feet, spreading outward like a flash flood. Even without a blizzard, the temperature plummeted instantly.
It was said that at the far northern edge of the world, beneath a sky painted in indescribable colors, lay a land where one’s very breath froze mid-air. That land was Permafrost—a realm frozen for eternity.
Spells were always influenced by the weight of words. Esther’s was no different. Though its radius was a mere twenty paces, she froze everything within it. The ground iced over, and the flames vanished instantly. The burning ghouls and skeletons faltered, their very foundations shattered by the sudden, absolute cold.
“...You cast a spell like this without any preparation or sacrifices?” Anella was genuinely shocked.
There was a disaster-class spell called Blizzard, a Forbidden Scripture that could not be cast without a frozen sacrifice—sometimes even requiring the caster to freeze and offer a part of their own body. Yet a spell of similar caliber was now bearing down on her with no apparent cost.
But Anella had no intention of going down easily. Even as she spoke, she channeled her mana and chanted.
“Flame Dancer of Maerak!”
The flames erupting from Apostle Anella’s body surged in all directions. On one side, flames raged; on the other, the world froze.
Whoosh.
Even the wind turned to ice, feeling like a thousand sharp blades.
“Scythe of the North Wind,” Esther spat. It was a reconstruction of Demuiller’s Scythe, adapted for the cold.
Anella’s eyes widened. She’s manifesting another type of spell here? While maintaining a legendary spell like Permafrost?
To put it simply, several more spells were exchanged in the moments that followed, but Esther won, and Anella died.
The difference in their raw strength was not vast. In a battle between mages, victory was often decided by preparation. However, neither had been able to prepare specifically for the other. If anything, Esther was at a disadvantage, exhausted from her long run.
However, her genius for manipulating spells and her ability to create magic on the fly bridged the gap. Furthermore, it was early winter; a spell that lowered the temperature was naturally more effective than one that conjured flames. A great witch knew how to turn the environment into her greatest ally.
That was why they said no one could ever defeat a witch inside her own hut.
I overexerted myself.
The victory had taken a heavy toll. Esther’s entire frame trembled violently. She needed to consume a seed that provided warmth or wrap herself in a similar energy. At the very least, she needed the thermal leather cloak that Rem practically lived in.
Unable to travel far, she headed toward Cross Guard. Finding Encrid was easy; she hadn't given him that Spell Object for nothing.
She arrived by tracking the trace of her own handiwork. Even though she wore a robe designed to retain body heat, her entire body shivered. The early winter wind felt as though it were piercing her very bones. It was cold—so cold she felt as if she were experiencing winter for the first time in her life.
“Esther?”
Before her stood Encrid. He was just as he had always been. His blue eyes pierced the darkness of dawn, and though the sun had not yet risen, there was an unquenchable fire within him.
“Hold me,” Esther said, before losing consciousness.
*
Encrid reflexively caught Esther in his arms. Her skin was as cold as an icicle. Her face was deathly pale, and frost clung to her hair.
“Lua.”
“I’m awake,” Luagarne replied.
“Call the Castellan. Tell him to bring every heating stone he can find.”
“Will do.”
Luagarne hopped away with a swift leap, and Encrid lifted Esther. He didn't know exactly what had happened, but his intuition spoke clearly.
Somehow, I feel like this has something to do with me.
He carried her to a room and laid her on the bed. He had seen people suffer from frostbite before. It had happened when a reckless noble had hired them to gather herbs that grew only in the polar regions. It had been madness, but back then, he had been desperate for Krona. Three of his companions had died of frostbite on that trip. Even the one who survived had lost his toes.
If a passing priest hadn't helped them, they all would have perished.
“You carry the sun in your chest,” the priest had told him. While everyone else was freezing to death, Encrid had somehow endured.
“If I leave her like this, she’ll freeze to death,” Encrid muttered.
He climbed into the bed with Esther, pulling the blankets over them both. He held her close and called out, “Prepare some hot water, Delma.”
“Pardon? Ah, yes, sir!”
Delma, the inn worker, had woken up early only to see his hero carrying a woman into a room. His lover? Perhaps. Feeling the atmosphere was too delicate to intrude upon, he had been peeking from the hallway until Encrid noticed him.
“Not too hot,” Encrid added.
“Yes, sir.”
Encrid removed Esther’s outer robe, stripped off his own shirt, and held her against him. The chill radiating from her was still freezing. He deliberately avoided looking at her body; he had no desire to have his eyes gouged out later.
He held her like that for a full day and night. He had Luagarne bathe her in lukewarm water, dried her off, and then held her once more.
“My body temperature is too low, so I cannot hold her for you,” Luagarne said, watching on in worry. Since a Frok’s body temperature was naturally lower than a human's, he could do little to help.
“I’ve scraped together everything in the city,” the Castellan reported, having managed to procure a few heating stones. This wretched, impoverished city was overflowing with drugs and gamblers, yet useful items were nowhere to be found. Encrid hoped that would change in the future.
Encrid held Esther for two days. Only then did her body heat slowly return, and a faint color finally crept back into her face.
As dawn broke once again, Encrid woke from his cycle of fitful sleep to find a pair of blue eyes identical to his own staring back at him.
“Did you sleep well?” Encrid asked.
“Why... are we... in the same bed?” Esther asked, her memory temporarily blank.
“There’s no better way to restore lost body heat.”
He didn't literally carry the sun in his chest, but he was the only one who could endure holding her. She had been lowering the surrounding temperature just by breathing, as if she were a living curse.
Encrid had endured it, but no one else could have. Delma hadn't even been able to step into the room, complaining of the freezing cold just by being near her. Even for Encrid, his Will had risen on its own as he held her, swirling through his body to keep his blood pumping. The artificial chill she radiated was far from normal.
She had clearly done something magical to herself, but there was no one else to ask. What else could he have done but hold her and endure? Still, explaining all of that felt awkward.
Encrid spoke in a casual, nonchalant tone. “You used to snuggle up to me all the time when you were a panther, anyway.”
At those words, Esther fell silent, staring into his eyes for a long, quiet moment.