Act 0. The Exiles Under the Moonlight (5)

"We must go to war."

This was my fourth visit to Priscilla's room, and I shut the door behind me before blurting it out to her.

"...What do you mean by that?"

"It'd take too long to explain. It's faster if you just read my memories."

"...Very well."

Priscilla placed her hand on my head and closed her eyes, focusing intently.

"...What is this?"

"Hera and Serne. Those two will try to stop us."

Priscilla's face twisted in confusion for a while as she pondered, then hardened again as she spoke to me.

"...It's impossible. Too dangerous."

"Priscilla."

"And besides, some sacrifices among the few are inevitable."

"I never thought I'd hear that from you."

"If we start a war, won't they come to help? No, they'd rush even faster. Then what other choice do we have?"

"We have allies who would help."

"..."

"Hera aside, Serne didn't seem all that eager to block us."

Priscilla fell silent like she'd been struck dumb, listening intently to my words.

"If we can just give them a reason they can't interfere with us, we can keep them away."

"Countless witches will be sacrificed. That's obvious."

"No."

"I will make sure that doesn't happen."

"You? How? I already know your magical talent is exceptional, but this is physically impossible."

"I've researched countless spells."

Out of all the variant incantations publicly known in the game right now, I'd discovered 30 to 40 percent of them myself. While others focused solely on damage, I'd studied and honed ways to maximize efficiency and versatility in magic.

"You haven't seen my full potential yet."

"Such arrogance."

"I know it might seem ridiculous coming from me in front of the great archwitch, but please take it as a sign of my confidence."

"..."

Priscilla pondered for a long moment before slowly opening her mouth.

"...Do you have a plan?"

"Can you tell me the scale of our allies who have pledged to help?"

"Most of the elves, and about 30 percent of the dwarves."

"...That's more than I expected."

"The elves probably still hold a grudge from when human mages invaded their lands in the past."

"...Aren't we mages too?"

"No. Mages and witches are entirely different beings."

"I see."

According to Priscilla's explanation, the land where the current empire stood was once the elves' territory. But ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mages invaded, slaughtering countless elves, forcing them to cede the land. The elves still harbored that resentment, seeing this as a chance for revenge by aiding us. The dwarves, on the other hand, had a history where a witch solved their problems, and true to their nature of never forgetting favors or grudges, they were repaying the debt.

'These mage bastards are total scum, huh?'

They'd invaded lands where elves lived peacefully, killed them, stole the territory, and led witch hunts, branding innocent witches as bringers of misfortune.

'Tch. Yeah, war's the right call even if it pisses me off.'

"...So, what's the plan?"

"It might be easier than I thought."

My plan was simple: Have the elf queen tie down Serne, while Priscilla marks Hera, and the rest of the elves and witches handle the other mages. It sounded straightforward, but it hinged on binding Serne's feet and the elves pulling more than their weight.

"Is there any guarantee the other heroes won't come?"

"No. But I think the odds are they'll stay away."

Sword Saint Kael wandered from place to place without settling down. He was likely too busy purging the demons scattered across the continent to show. Jinwoon wouldn't come either, not if it meant abandoning the Demonless Realm—and given his personality, he wouldn't judge witches as evil without seeing them bring misfortune firsthand. Marian was tied up with all her education anyway, and tensions between the church and the emperor made support unlikely.

Besides, we were clearly in the final stretch before the great war.

'Worst case, I die and try something else.'

"You're mistaken about something."

"...Pardon?"

"You die once and come back, and it's over for you. But have you considered what happens to the world you leave behind?"

'Right. It's a game to me, but their living reality.'

So what becomes of the world if I fail? It ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠might just vanish. After all, the continent of Bellanova in Lost World was just a programmed simulation on a computer.

But if it persisted without me, flowing on somewhere... even in a game, that stung a little.

"One failure for you is the end for those left behind."

"I know you've walked a hard path yourself. But you should value your life a bit more."

"...I understand."

Priscilla looked at my face, chuckled softly, and patted my head.

"Let's go with your plan, then. I'll send word to the elf queen."

"Yes."

The unfamiliar warmth left my hair mussed, and I straightened it, blaming Priscilla unnecessarily.

The plan moved forward at lightning speed.

Priscilla had already sent a letter to the elf queen via our allies and received a reply. She'd requested usable magical gear for the witches from the dwarves, who promised delivery in just one day. In that single in-game day, I began reworking the incantations for the war.

"Change it."

"It was just a theoretical skill tree before, but..."

For dominating the battlefield, nothing could be more effective. It revived the sensations from Season 1's fighter, gunner, berserker, and assassin. From now on, I wouldn't just be a mage—I'd be a lunatic tearing through the field as a mage-assassin-warrior hybrid.

Of course, this build only worked because our foes were mages. Against a brawling fighter trading blows, it'd be worthless.

"...We're screwed."

"What's screwed?"

I hadn't noticed Selia approach, so I jumped and clutched my chest.

"Heehee. Gotcha, didn't I?"

"Wanna keep pranking? Huh?"

I pinched and tugged Selia's squishy cheeks.

Selia's cheeks were as soft and mochi-like as Asella's—maybe even more so.

"Euek...! Let gooo...!"

"Ngh..."

Selia flailed her arms cutely while caught in my grip. I had no choice but to let go.

"Eueeng... My cheeks..."

As she rubbed them with both hands, a sudden curiosity struck me.

"Selia, if the witches' misunderstandings get ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠cleared up and you can live a normal life again, what would you want to do?"

Selia thought for a bit before replying.

"I... wanna go to the academy. Make friends, attend classes like a normal kid."

"The academy... Sounds nice."

"...Not sure if I can make friends while blindfolded, though."

"Why not? I'm your friend, aren't I, sis?"

"Nah... Sis is sis, friends are friends!"

"Can't sis be a friend too?"

"Hmm... Fine, you get special permission!"

Chatting idly with Selia eased the tension a little.

'This time, I'll definitely save you all.'

"Nice."

I inspected the sword in my hand from every angle.

'Insane performance. Dwarven craftsmanship lives up to the hype.'

Rare grade, but the effects were broken. A dispel effect on a sword—dwarven weapons were no joke.

Priscilla's dress dispel could block even great magic, but this sword's couldn't—unfortunately. If it could, it'd be legendary grade.

"You asked for exactly this, but... I heard it's got a sky-high skill ceiling. You sure you're okay?"

"I'm good."

Perfect timing was insanely hard. Like a warrior's parry, you had to time the slash precisely. For average players, it'd be useless despite existing—hence the rare grade.

But not for me. I was confident in my physicals.

With this sword, my build was complete.

"Time to go."

"Yes. The elves should be arriving by now—let's move out."

The war that would scar Lost World's history was only just beginning.

Under the night sky with its full moon, in the hush of midnight when the empire's citizens had retreated to their homes to sleep...

One by one, witches emerged from the shadows below.

Resolve and fury etched their faces, their determination firmer than ever. Their eyes gleamed colder in the moonlight, heavy memories of past burnings and scorn flowing between them.

Black cloaks fluttered like they were beckoned by the wind, and the archwitch leading them, Priscilla, parted her lips—shattering the long silence.

"We are not sinners."

A low voice, and some witches clenched their fists tight.

"We committed no sin. Nay, we aided others. How could we be sinners?"

"What is sin? What is evil?"

Priscilla murmured low under the moonlight, and the witches recalled every injustice they'd endured, one by one.

"The flames that once burned us shall rise again by our power."

Their shared pain forged unbreakable bonds. No more running. They vowed never to be trampled unjustly again.

"We shall rise. The magic they feared, our power, will judge them."

A colossal war loomed.

Their wounds became shields, their hidden strength blades.

"From this moment, we rewrite this tale ourselves."

"First: Harm no civilians."

"Second: We march to the imperial palace and claim our right to exist."

"Third: Make them know who we are."

They swore it quietly, unyieldingly.

Under the full moon filling the heavens, they rose.

The exiles under the moonlight now advanced to reclaim their rights.

"To the palace. Let's go."