The Witch's Blood Awakens

Everywhere in the Karstein Grand Duchy stood identical statues.

Statues of the worst witch who had ravaged humanity for centuries, and the Northern Grand Duke who defeated her.

There was one right in the middle of the Grand Duke's residence garden, too. Freira would often gaze at it, lost in thought.

"…."

It was just like any other day, strolling through the garden.

The knights rushed off toward the Northern Wall in full armor. Not long after, magitech engineers from the south hurried past the residence.

"Freira!"

The Grand Duke limped out into the garden. He grabbed his daughter's shoulders tightly and said,

"Pack your things right now. Go down to the Northern Magic Tower and hide."

"Father? You have to tell me what's—"

Through her bewildered eyes, she caught sight of a familiar face.

"…Alsanna?"

Led by the bishop, the holy knights charged past on horseback. All heading for the wall.

"Freira. Listen well. The witch has returned."

"What? No, suddenly what…"

"The Witch of Transformation, Circe."

A name she knew.

Freira's face hardened in an instant.

Just like Hamel said. She's really back. For the first time in ten years.

The young lady swallowed dryly.

"What about Hamel?"

"He's already headed to the wall. He'll be a great asset to the knights."

Freira clutched her collar tightly.

No. They could never win. …Then you'll shatter, Hamel?

I, I have to go help. But…

She couldn't even form a single circle—what good would she be but baggage?

Freira let out a dazed, hollow laugh, acutely aware of her own helplessness.

She's here.

I gazed north from atop the Northern Wall. From the snowy horizon's edge, writhing monsters swarmed.

As expected, hardly any demons were visible.

She preferred to operate alone. She'd probably tied the other demons down in the demon realm.

Wriggling worms, chunks of flesh sprouting dozens of limbs, amalgamations of machinery and meat—the grotesque horde closed in like a painting come to life.

In the center slithered a woman gliding just above the ground.

The Witch of Transformation, Circe.

The second Wailing Wall after Ragnor, the newbie slayer.

If Ragnor taught basic system mechanics like deal timing, this witch handled curses and magic.

More precisely, she made you feel the sheer brokenness of curses down to your bones.

Urgent chatter flew atop the wall. A map lay spread on an improvised table.

"A witch out of nowhere, no warning? Honestly, we can't hold that."

"What about the Imperial 7th Legion?"

"No commander since Gaius's treason. His Majesty hasn't appointed a new one."

"…Fight without Imperial support? This is insane."

The Holy Kingdom's arrivals brightened faces momentarily. Pure-hearted Alsanna was pale as a ghost.

"Bishop! You've come!"

"Y-Yes! Th-The situation's urgent, so all the holy knights came too!"

"Any paladins?"

"…N-No. As you know, the paladins are all at the Holy Kingdom. Even if we request support now…"

Groans circled the table. Faces darkened to near-death pallor.

"Automatons hunt witches fine. But a real one shows up and you're all shaking in your boots."

I patched into Elise's panel as she muttered nonsense alone.

This should prevent unnecessary casualties. I scanned around—no Freira.

Whoosh.

I yanked the panel cord and leaped from the wall.

"Your Grace? Is that automaton malfunctioning?"

"…I didn't issue engage orders."

"Aaaah!? Hamel!! Why're you doing something crazy again!!"

"Bishop. Did you just call the automaton by name…"

"Shh, be quiet!!"

A chorus of voices faded behind me.

Boom—the ground shook, and the swarming monsters hesitated.

Behind, the wall's gate opened, obsolete automatons marching out in ranks. Magitech rifles blazed from above, but the witch's gesture twisted their trajectories.

"Huh. Expected noble knights, but tin cans instead?"

Circe twisted her lips. All my sensors maxed out.

One thing to watch: the witch's mouth.

Arcanium alloy or whatever—her silver tongue would crumple me flat.

No. Wrong. Imperial tech was this weak, that's why demons overwhelmed us.

Circe will use sorcery.

Mana-based magic and divine miracles had clear weaknesses. Long chants—from sentences to reciting whole books.

Sorcery had no such flaw.

It didn't petition the world; it enforced phenomena through authority.

Only demons could wield it.

"Tin can. Any last words?"

"…."

If not for my Grade-2 military core, I couldn't even face her.

No answer from me—she waved dismissively, interest gone.

"Boring. Time to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠steal promises and slaughter heaps."

Here it comes. Her torn lips parted.

"Transform. Crush. Cleave to the earth."

Fucking broken.

Three words for high-tier magic-level effects.

Counter? Obviously.

Nothing's invincible.

The witch's sorcery surged as authority. Everything nearby crumpled, adhered to the ground, transformed per her whisper.

Sorcery closed in on my core.

All air around vanished. Mana combusted fiercely, forming a near-perfect vacuum veil.

Krzzzzz—

Automatons just beyond the veil shredded, adhering to the ground like metal grown from earth.

Everything but me transformed.

Cooldown's long. No matter.

"…Wow."

The witch before me gaped in awe. Circe clapped, cheering with hand over mouth.

"H-How? That could've squished wizards flat. Kids, see? He just countered sorcery!"

"Grraaah."

Monsters won't get it.

"Oh? Humans finally get sorcery? I thought you crawling worms were clueless."

No. The Empire still doesn't.

Form 2: Veil parries projectiles. I adapted it for vacuum.

Sorcery's bullshit, but needs a medium to propagate.

If not possessed, I'd have died to 'know or perish'.

"Respect. You're first to block sorcery. Fine, reward time."

Circe beamed, clapping brightly.

"I'll leave your corpse! Kids, chow down!"

"Aggggh."

Witch personality average.

Monsters encircled me. I zoomed view to the wall.

Freira watched pale-faced, icy locks fluttering.

This was the goal.

Yes.

I gripped my left arm with my right and tore it off.

Hurled it straight at the wall. Perfect trajectory calc. Monsters blocked their view of my body.

Fake death ploy.

For the Duke's lady's awakening.

Circe, watching me, tilted her head.

"What? Just a busted tin can?"

One more left, witch.

Hamel strat #2. Countercharge.

I gouged an eye, scattered it at monsters, and bolted full throttle. Dense conifers whipped past.

"…Just trash? Idiot me for expecting earthworms."

Seemed like Circe's hollow laugh echoed.

Now, Freira. Your turn.

Thud.

A dull metallic clang rang across the wall. Freira stared blankly at the incoming object.

An arm. Automaton arm, wires and gears exposed at the joint.

Monsters swarmed, then an arm flew out. Nothing stood there now.

Hamel was dead.

"Why… why always…"

Freira dragged her feet toward Hamel's arm. She strained to lift it, but her frail hands trembled uselessly.

I can't even carry Hamel's remains. Powerless me.

Hollow laughs spilled from her lips.

"Freira! What are you ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠doing! Adelheit, pull her back!"

"Yes, Your Grace!"

Shouts brushed her ears. Who? Didn't matter.

"Freira? Snap out of it. Hamel, he… I mean…"

Brown-haired bishop staggered forward, eyes misty. Trying to save the rest?

Impossible. Opponent's a witch.

"Miss!"

"Step aside, Adelheit."

Freira stood at the wall's edge.

In the grotesque monsters' midst, the witch. Close enough to reach ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if she yelled.

Their gazes crossed. Felt familiar. From childhood maybe.

"Duke's lady. Fall back."

"…Elise."

Leotard-clad automaton approached, face somewhat subdued.

"Come this way. It's dangerous."

"You think I can't do anything either, huh?"

Powerless. No knight talent, no mage gift. Just a pitiful caged bird.

"Duke's lady. Senior—Hamel ordered me. Protect you at all costs."

I see.

"That was Hamel's last words to you."

Freira recalled.

What were Hamel's last words to me? His dying message, just for me…

—You'll form a circle soon. Believe in me.

Believed in me to the end. When even I couldn't.

Below, witch muttered. Monsters' bodies merged into one. Massive ringworm of flesh emerged.

Screams erupted. No one here could face the witch.

So, my final tantrum.

Freira reached toward the witch. Mana flooded her circuits, bringing bone-chilling cold.

Born with this incurable disease, father permanently wounded, too frail for academy—

Mother abandoning me, never returning.

Hamel's death.

"…All your fault."

This cursed blood still flowing in me.

I'll repay it all. To the demons.

"…Duke's lady!"

"Back off."

Elise's eyes widened. No touch, yet flung back like shoved hard.

Gaze fixed oddly behind Freira's head.

Ah. Witch did something.

Below, Circe's torn maw boomed.

"Devour her."

The ringworm surged from earth. Massive maw filled vision.

Freira just reached out.

To honor Hamel's last words. She'd form a circle.

First… clear that worm.

"Stop."

A cold voice escaped her lips.

The worm halted midair.

Silence fell. No sound.

Freira steadied her freezing body. Then voices flooded her ears.

"G-God above."

"…Your Grace. Just now, the lady—"

"Heavens. Look at that circle size. How many stacked?"

Circle? Me? I honored Hamel's words?

Freira turned her head.

"…."

A single ring.

Taller than a person, spinning fiercely behind her head, too large to see fully.

Dazed realization dawned. Freira murmured to the unseen one.

"Hamel. Looks like I just…"

Used sorcery.

Everywhere in the Karstein Grand Duchy stood identical statues.

Statues of the worst witch who had ravaged humanity for centuries, and the Northern Grand Duke who defeated her.

Or more fully:

The witch who opposed humanity, came to understand human hearts, and learned to love them.

The Grand Duke who triumphed over the witch, ending centuries of strife with a marriage vow.

Statues of the two blocking a fire dragon together. Inscribed below: Frost Witch, Euterpe.

Her other name: Karstein Grand Duchess.

Freira Karstein's birth mother.