Priscilla's Renunciation
Priscilla, the witch of two sins, followed the foul stench of magic unique to demon worshippers and arrived at a small cave beyond the forest. What if they had already killed her mother? Such anxiety gripped her ankles, but just then, men's voices echoed from inside the cave.
"She's an important sacrificial offering for Him. Make sure she doesn't die before the morning star rises."
"Understood."
Sacrificial offering. Her mother was still alive. Priscilla let out a deep sigh of relief. She wasn't too late. There was still plenty of time before the morning star rose, so she could rescue her mother carefully.
Soon, a witch's incantation flowed from Priscilla's lips.
"Only the winged and many-legged insects shall be gentle to you, and you shall become as plentiful as they."
⟨ Insect Summoning ⟩
Threads of magic unfurled from her heart, weaving a magic circle in the air. This talentless body couldn't cast grand spells, but...
She was a great witch who had overcome even death.
Soon, every grasshopper, flying insect, centipede, locust, and woodlouse in the forest gathered around her. Their wings buzzed shrilly. Tentacle-like genitalia whipped wildly. A swarm of insects, lusting greedily for reproduction in an orgy, began to cloud the surroundings like black mist.
"My children. I have filled seven peaks and thirteen valleys with food for you. Devour, gnaw, burrow, and feast grandly. None among you shall go unsatisfied."
The insects began devouring each other. Ferociously, unaware even as their own bodies were eaten, shoving one another into their maws to quench endless thirst and hunger. Moths were eaten by spiders, spiders burrowed into by ants, ants seized by moths. Viscous fluid dripped from the insects' bodies onto the soil.
No, it was eggs. Tiny, slimy eggs that looked like liquid, grotesque insect eggs.
"Be fruitful and multiply. Fill the seas and the lands. Devour the fish of the sea and the birds of the sky, and fill them too. The whole world is your feast."
And then. Priscilla tore the flesh from her finger with her teeth, feeding the spilled blood to the insect eggs. The eggs writhed and split open. From within, shadow-like things began to slither out.
"I am salt and soil and life, and through me, you shall spread across the whole world."
The frailest familiars a witch could command. A mere contract with shadow-flies. Yet, these flies alone were enough.
Enough to kill mere demon worshippers.
Priscilla slowly led the insects into the cave. A sentry spotted her and tilted his head.
"Huh? What's that? Some kid—"
"Devour him, my children."
"Wha-what?!"
The swarming shadow-flies engulfed the man like mist in an instant. He flailed his arms desperately, but the flies were too small and too numerous. They burrowed into his nails, his mouth, his earholes.
Soon. He collapsed, spurting black blood from his entire body. Insects crawled over his corpse.
"Hoo... cough..."
Priscilla's heart clenched as if gripped by a hand. Her vision blurred, eye veins bursting, tinting everything hazy. She spat bloody phlegm onto the cave floor and pressed on.
Mana overload from forcibly squeezing her heart's magic for the spell, but...
"Fuck—what the hell! Flies everywhere—arghhh!"
It was enough to save her mother.
Priscilla pushed forward.
"Eek?!"
"Damn it, what are you all doing?! Fight back! If He grants us power—"
"How do we fight bugs?!"
"Guhhh, it tickles, kyahaha, grrr..."
With every step she took, demon worshippers were stripped of flesh and died. Cloaked in black death.
Priscilla finally reached the cave's depths.
"...Mom."
"Daughter...?"
The last worshippers guarding her mother were devoured by insects. Amid maggots and flies writhing in horror.
Priscilla took one step toward her mother.
Close enough to touch if she reached out—but—
"H-hiiik?!"
Her mother recoiled in terror, backing away from Priscilla's hand. It was only natural. A witch was a monster unfit to live among humans. Even if a witch mimicked love, this was her inevitable end.
Better this way. She'd die soon from mana overload anyway. The price of using a spell this worthless body couldn't handle.
"......"
Her ruined vision from overload blurred. Blood-tears streamed down her cheeks. Priscilla nearly called her "Mom" out of habit, but realized that word was no longer hers. She changed it.
"...Ma'am."
"......"
"I'm sorry. I've been deceiving you. I'm not Anna. I'm... a monster who stole Anna's body."
The witch calmly confessed her sin. That the month together was all deception and lies. She knelt, bowed her head. For the first time, begged forgiveness honestly.
"I'm sorry. Truly, I'm so sorry..."
Sobs mixed into the witch's voice, but only blood-tears flowed from her broken eyes. She was relieved she couldn't shed real tears. A monster who stole her beloved daughter's body had no right to them.
"...I see. You're not our Anna after all."
And her mother's voice, hearing the confession, was eerily calm. As if she'd suspected it all along.
"Yes..."
"Then, what's your real name?"
"Priscilla... Priscilla."
"I see. Priscilla."
Her mother mulled the name over, then nodded.
"Truth be told, I had some idea."
"Pardon?"
"When you gathered berries good for colds and various herbs, I thought it strange."
"......"
"Anna hated the smell of herbs. She wouldn't know much about them."
Her mother was an herbalist. Anna's room always carried a faint herbal scent. The first food Priscilla ate upon waking was herb-laden porridge. Tasteless, but well-balanced for health.
"Priscilla. Do you know? I had already given up on Anna once."
"...Pardon?"
"When Anna collapsed from illness... In this rural place without priests, there was no way to save her. So I just... prayed to God. To take her to a better place. I gave up so easily."
"......"
"So when Anna suddenly woke healthy... I was joyful at the miracle, but scared. What if she resented me? What if she realized I'd abandoned her? I tried even harder to treat her well."
"......"
"We were deceiving each other with kindness and gentleness to hide our sins."
Her mother smiled wistfully. Even through blood-hazed vision, that smile was strangely clear.
"Priscilla. My lying daughter. You say you're not my daughter... but a month is enough time to become family..."
"......"
"I love you. My daughter."
"Hic... sob..."
As she collapsed sobbing, her mother approached first this time, extending a hand. Embracing her. Stroking her back wordlessly.
"...Mom."
"Yes, my daughter."
"Can I keep living with you, Mom?"
"Of course."
"Can I ask for bedtime stories at night... and to be held until I fall asleep?"
"As much as you want."
"...Is it okay if I keep living?"
"If my daughter dies, I'd be heartbroken. I don't want to give up this time."
"......"
The girl Anna's body was dying from mana overload. Her eyes fully blind, every orifice bleeding from overusing undue magic.
But this time, she wouldn't run.
'......'
Not from Anna's heart, but from great witch Priscilla's soul, threads of magic flowed. The magic forming spells etched into her soul. The source of her immortality.
It unraveled into primal mana, seeping into the girl's body. Mending severed veins, regenerating melted muscles, slowly healing the broken form.
Though her blinded sight couldn't return. And fleeing via death was now impossible—but—
It was fine.
"I love you, Mom."
"I love you too, my daughter."
She had found her own "life" now.
—
"Congratulations, my Daughter. You've wrought a miracle far greater than the ideal we aimed for."
'...Don't ruin the mood?'
—
"Feeling sentimental is fine, but let's head home now. To greet tomorrow's miraculous morning, you need a good rest tonight."
'Sigh...'
Priscilla sighed inwardly and smiled faintly.
"Mom! Let's go home now! I'm sleepy, hehe."
"Yes, let's."
***
"Congratulations. You've splendidly averted the world's doom."
To reach this moment, so much preparation.
Showing hallucinations of a mighty demon to bandits near the village, ordering a sacrifice at morning star rise. Distorting her senses so Priscilla wouldn't notice her mother's kidnapping. Provoking her with Gigachad to inflame emotions. Guiding her to the cave with false sulfur and blood scents.
And other devices to steer the story as scripted.
The result: this.
The witch forsaking immortality herself. Now, just a normal girl who can use minor spells. No more resurrecting by stealing bodies upon death.
"With this, rehabilitating that 'Suicide Witch' is fully complete."
"Not yet."
"Pardon?"
"She's forsaken spells for now, but she might touch them again someday?"
This Anna girl's body would struggle to complete spells, but "difficult" and "impossible" weren't synonyms. People change, and a witch once seeking immortality might seek it again—not so strange.
"Surely you don't mean..."
"A hero will soon visit the village."
With the perfect finale prepared for the witch—
I hope she likes it.