The Witch (2)
We arrived at Karda, a rustic village nestled on the slopes of the Asendio Mountain Range. Aria pressed a hand to her forehead and belly, staggering on her feet.
“...W-we’ve finally arrived.”
Her voice was hoarse and drained. Ain ran a hand over the back of his neck and let out a quiet sigh.
“I told you we should rest along the way.”
“But I didn’t want to waste your time because of me—ugh.”
Aria clapped a hand over her mouth as dry heaves overtook her. Ain watched with a pang of sympathy and gently rubbed her back. All that stubborn determination.
“...Feeling any better?”
“I-I can endure it.”
Aria’s face had gone alarmingly pale. Her already fair skin now looked almost bloodless, and the sight tugged at his heart. Ain offered lightly, “Want me to carry you?”
She shook her head. “No. I might throw up on your back.”
What did it matter if she did? Clothes could be washed. His real concern was purely for her safety.
“It’s fine. Get on.”
“If I actually vomit, how could I ever look you in the eye again?”
She was a stubborn one. He understood she hated being a burden, but it would be nice if she leaned on him a little. “I’m the one who wants to carry you, Aria.”
“I’ll ask if it gets too difficult.”
Ain’s internal Aria-translator kicked in. That statement basically meant she wouldn’t let him carry her even if she passed out.
“What a hardheaded woman.”
They continued toward the inn where they had stayed before, exchanging light, meaningless conversation. That part was fine.
The trouble started the moment they stepped inside.
As Ain pushed open the door, his expression darkened at frightening speed. It resembled the despair of a farmer staring at fields ruined by drought—too many emotions tangled together to name easily.
Aria wondered if something gruesome was happening inside and tried to peek around him. Ain stopped her at once.
“Don’t make eye contact with that. The curse will spread.”
The curse will spread? Had some plague deity descended on this quiet mountain village?
Aria answered in a tone of pure disbelief. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a Saintess. Purifying unclean things is my specialty.”
“The quality of this curse is especially nasty.”
A curse that even a Saintess couldn’t overcome? Had one of the Demon King’s executives shown up? In this remote mountain hamlet? For what possible reason?
Aria frowned. The more he tried to hide it, the more curious she became. Human curiosity usually worked that way—the harder someone tried to conceal something, the more you wanted to uncover it.
Despite Ain’s warnings, she peered into the inn. Contrary to her imagination, she saw only the same ordinary interior they had visited before. No horrific scene greeted her.
The single unusual detail was a girl seated at a table, beautiful enough to seize every eye in the room. Noticing their gaze, the girl rose from her seat.
She was roughly ten centimeters shorter than Aria—around 156 cm. Yet the aura radiating from her made her seem far taller than her stature suggested.
And her appearance—flame-red hair that burned like living fire, crimson irises as vivid as molten rubies. A sophisticated red dress, a wide-brimmed pointed hat, and a staff of gnarled deadwood. Anyone would have instantly recognized her as a witch in the purest sense.
The witch offered a bright, refreshing smile.
“What’s this, Ashtain? You’re not traveling alone?”
“There’s no law saying I have to.”
“With your personality?”
A crackle of invisible tension passed between them like static electricity.
Someone who knew Ain? What was their relationship? Aria studied them both. The Hero and the Witch. They glared at each other with eyes as cold as daggers, like big cats waiting for the perfect moment to settle dominance.
The murderous atmosphere made Aria’s stomach clench even though she wasn’t part of the staring contest. Cold sweat beaded on her skin. It felt like walking across a frozen lake only for the ice to crack beneath her feet. In that instant of sudden crisis, the mind goes strangely blank. Just… Oh, I’m fucked.
That was exactly how Aria felt as she watched the pair.
The situation was on the verge of exploding.
The witch spoke first.
“Ha, so that’s why you’ve been missing. You picked up a new cum dumpster?”
The words were crude and vicious. Aria turned them over in her mind. Newly acquired cum dumpster. There was no doubt who that was aimed at.
Cum dumpster. It was a term she had occasionally used back when she was still a man. But it belonged exclusively to the internet; uttering it in reality would get you socially crucified. It was far too low-class an insult to come from a young girl’s mouth.
For a second Aria genuinely wondered if she had heard wrong.
“A wet cum dumpster with huge tits, huh? Must be empty-headed too.”
She had not misheard. The girl’s hostility was aimed squarely at her. It was a vicious personal attack, yet Aria found she didn’t particularly mind. After all, it wasn’t entirely untrue. Until Ain had saved her, she really had been the cult’s seed receiver. Cum dumpster, seed receiver—it was all the same thing.
She simply thought, For some reason, this girl is furious with me.
“What, is your cum dumpster a mute who can’t even talk back?”
The one who actually snapped was Ain. The aura around him grew so sharp that Aria flinched when she glanced at him. It felt like a blizzard howling down from the northern wastes.
“That filthy mouth of yours hasn’t changed at all.”
His voice was so icy it could freeze a person’s blood. Yet the girl answered with a brazen, unaffected face.
“What did I do? Did I say anything wrong?”
“She is a Saintess.”
“Oh, you mean a whore?”
The remark was clearly meant to provoke him. Aria hoped he wouldn’t rise to it. She could endure those words without issue. What mattered more was that his feelings not be hurt.
Ain spoke in a tone colder than she had ever heard from him.
“Watch that mouth.”
“Haha, how scary. Why are you getting so angry? You’re usually so quiet. Ah, does it bother you that much when your precious cum dumpster gets insulted? Is that it? Wow, you must be really attached to this one. But what can you do? A cum dumpster bitch is still a cum dumpster bitch. What else would you call her?”
Schwing.
Ashtain drew the Holy Sword without a word and swung it without the slightest hesitation. The strike carried enough force to bisect her if not for the mana barrier the witch instantly conjured. Her expression remained completely still, like a wax doll.
“Are you serious, Ashtain? You’re drawing your sword on me?”
“You insulted someone precious to me.”
Someone precious to me.
The two women reacted in completely opposite ways. Aria’s cheeks flushed with shy pleasure. The witch’s face twisted into a hideous scowl.
“Someone preeeecious?”
“Either kneel and apologize properly, or get out of my sight. Choose one.”
“I even taught you magic, and this is how you repay me?”
It seemed the spells Ain occasionally used had come from this witch.
“I am grateful. But that was then, and this is now.”
At his decisive words the witch laughed. It was not a pleasant sound.
“Hmm, so that’s how you want to play. Fine. If you’re going to be like that, then I’ll—”
This is going to end badly. Sensing the impending disaster, Aria whispered urgently to Ain.
“Ain, let’s run.”
“Why? That arrogant little brat needs to be taught a lesson.”
The Hero was openly declaring his irritation. For someone normally so composed to lose his reason like this was rare. The emotion didn’t suit the situation at all, yet Aria felt a surge of joy that he valued her so highly.
Still, she wasn’t naïve enough to show it openly. She cleared her throat and looked at him with serious eyes.
“Ain, please listen to me.”
When she spoke firmly, he twisted his lips in clear discomfort. Aria decided to sweeten the deal.
“If you do, I’ll grant one wish of yours—anything you want.”
Avoiding a fight with this annoying witch and running away would earn her beloved’s wish coupon? The offer was too tempting to refuse.
Ain held up two fingers. “Make it two.”
Aria nodded quickly. “Deal.”
With her consent, Ain stopped hesitating. The reward was far too valuable to pass up. He sheathed the Holy Sword, slid an arm around her curvaceous waist, and lifted her into a princess carry.
Aria was the one caught off guard by the sudden shift.
“Eek?”
“We’re running away like you said. The wish rights still count, right?”
“Y-yes, but… are we really fleeing like this?”
“You’re slow on foot. This is faster.”
It was a perfectly logical argument. Aria had no rebuttal.
Ain moved his legs with practiced speed and carried them out of the inn. The witch, who had been watching in silence, was so stunned by the absurd sight that she simply stood there with her mouth hanging open.
What the hell? Ashtain—the man who never ran from a fight no matter what—was actually retreating? And because he listened to that woman? Did that even make sense?
It almost looked as if Ashtain was meekly obeying her. That Ashtain. That lunatic.
“Haha… Why? Why am I so angry?”
Rage boiled up from the pit of her stomach. The witch—Azazel—clenched her gnarled wooden staff until her knuckles turned white.
She would chase them. No matter what it took.
She had to catch up and settle this once and for all.