The Gloomy Black-Haired Busty Witch (3)
I slipped through the half-collapsed gap in the castle gate and stepped inside. A damp, chilling air unique to stone buildings permeated the interior. Under the faint moonlight filtering through narrow, elongated windows, abandoned furniture and torn carpets lay exposed. The stone walls were covered in filthy stains, as if someone had splashed buckets of filth across them. I knew exactly what those stains were. They were the blood of the people who once lived here. Those folks—god knows which owners they were—had met a gruesome end at the hands of a black mage who burst in unannounced. And the reason? Nothing dramatic. Some gloomy black mage just needed a secluded spot for his secret research. They happened to be living in the perfect place. That alone was tragic enough, but what made their deaths even more pathetic was that the mage abandoned the castle after just a few months and moved elsewhere. Something about it being too damn cold. In the end, those people died for a black mage who only used the place briefly. Now it was an abandoned ruin, even the mage long gone.
As I ventured deeper into the castle, massive statues lined both sides of the corridor. Nude men and women, half-human half-beast monsters—all with empty, eyeless sockets staring in different directions. As I passed in front of them, the neck of a female statue that had been gazing blankly at the ceiling twisted with a grotesque creak. I locked eyes with it. Black, glowing pupils ignited in its milky white sclera.
"Hey."
The statue silently looked down at me.
"Wanna work for me?"
There was no way it would answer, and I wasn't waiting for one anyway. No need—the statue's limbs cracked and popped as it stepped down from its pedestal. Towering over three meters, it lumbered toward me without hesitation. Each step shook the ground, and stone dust rained from its well-defined body. If it were human, I'd bow in thanks to such a beautiful, voluptuous woman approaching first. But not now. Because this statue was the main culprit behind massacring the castle's former owners.
I drew the Holy Sword and gripped it with both hands. Sparks erupted fiercely from the hilt, enveloping the blade as lightning danced along its edge. I thrust it forward like a spear at the advancing statue. The sword's sparks shot out, binding her limbs. Krrrk... crrrunch... Her movements slowed drastically, then halted abruptly.
I approached the faintly sparking statue and examined it closely. Black magic was so dense in concentration that even after the mage left, the spell hadn't dissipated—it still functioned, animating the thing. What a shitty bitch, didn't even clean up her own mess before leaving. Well, that's why I could repurpose it. This statue stood dormant until intruders appeared, then crushed them mercilessly. And it never strayed beyond a certain range before returning to its post—perfect for guarding a carriage parking lot. But it was too big and a bit too lewd-looking to plop right in an open field... There had to be smaller ones around somewhere.
I pressed on inward, but no statues of the size I wanted appeared. A normal human-sized one that looked decent would be ideal. I wandered the vast hall, but no others showed up. So I decided to check "that place." Something might still be down there. Recalling the layout, I found the stairs leading to the basement. Already dim inside the castle, the basement was pitch black. As I descended, the light faded completely, so I pulled a tiny torch from my smallest bag. Just two handspans long, it gave off weak light but was perfect for basic illumination. The moment I struck a match against the stone wall, a bizarre sensation washed over me.
I flung the torch and match away, reaching for the Holy Sword—but the strange feeling struck faster. Gleaming black lights shot from all directions in straight lines, coiling around my limbs, torso, and neck, binding and squeezing my body tight.
Beldra's Curse Rope...?!
I'd been snared by the magic trap known as Beldra's Curse Rope, operated by black magic. At that instant, the basement's candelabras blazed to life. Illuminated by their flames, the room looked exactly as I remembered. Filthy desks and bookshelves. Grotesque biological specimens and unidentifiable tools cluttered atop them. A massive black iron cauldron, piles of bones, and all sorts of nauseating things filled the space. This was one of the workshops of my old comrade, the black mage Idwild. Long abandoned, the research tools from back then remained untouched.
But... why was steam rising from that cauldron...?
"Wh... who's there...?"
I whipped my head toward the voice in alarm. From the shadowy corner beyond the candlelight, someone emerged. A petite woman in a pitch-black robe. Her hair was blacker than ebony, hanging long and covering half her face. Peering through those gloomy strands were hollow black eyes, sunken and timid. Her skin contrasted sharply—pale, not creamy but ghostly white. The robe was a classic mage's garment, reaching her ankles, but it had one key difference from ordinary ones. The chest. Robes like cloaks hung vertically from the body, but hers bulged prominently forward, as if hiding a watermelon.
Staring at that dark, sunken face and impossibly massive breasts, I murmured her name softly.
"Idwild."
"B... Bertrand... no way...?"
A spark of life flickered in the black mage Idwild's hollow eyes.
"Ber... Bertrand...? Is it really you...?"
She shuffled closer hesitantly. Her black, limp hair parted slightly as her dark eyes scanned my face intently.
"It really is... Bertrand... Haah..."
Idwild let out a faint sigh through her dry lips.
"Never thought I'd see you again..."
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Just... doing some research..."
Idwild fiddled with the black threads binding me.
"You're caught in Beldra's Curse Rope... I'll... I'll release you..."
Suddenly, she froze and turned to me.
"But... Bertrand, black magic never worked on you before..."
Before I could respond, she gasped lowly.
"Ahh... You're not a hero anymore... The goddess's protection must be gone..."
Idwild's expression turned profoundly strange. She glanced at the curse ropes wrapping my body and murmured darkly.
"So... Bertrand... you can't move right now...?"
Avoiding my gaze, she bowed her head, twisting her fingers and rubbing her thighs together.
"That means... I can do whatever I want with Bertrand...?"
Her voice trembled faintly, her lips even more so. Pale fingers toyed with the cord at her robe's neckline.
"Never imagined this day would come... To finally become one with Bertrand..."
I looked down at her with utter pity.
"Snap out of it, you crazy bitch."
"Can you... insult me more...?"
"Ugh, fuck, seriously..."
My cursing made her breathing grow ragged. Her fingers deftly undid the robe's cord. The neckline parted to her shoulders and slipped down emptily to the floor. Beneath a thin sleeveless linen shirt, overwhelming breasts were visible. Literally bigger than her head. Her small stature made them seem even larger. Yet despite the size, their shape was stunningly beautiful. Hidden by the shirt, they still looked firm, perky, and perfectly rounded.
"Finally... I can give myself completely to Bertrand..."
Now I noticed: no bottoms at all, just black panties. A string thong tied at the hips—her fingers hovered over the knot, hesitating.
"Bertrand... The goddess's protection stopped me before... but not now..."
Her voice grew husky as ominous black flames flickered across her body.
"I saved my virginity for this day... To become Bertrand's woman alone..."
I sighed. I'd known for ages this crazy woman harbored excessive delusions and obsession toward me. But her innate gloominess and timidity kept her from expressing it properly. Plus, black magic and the goddess's blessing were polar opposites. So the gloomy big-breasted girl had hovered around me, exuding eerie vibes, throughout our time as comrades. Now, with me trapped defenseless in Beldra's Curse Rope, she finally acted.
Seeing her like this stirred pity more than disgust. Poor twisted soul. Incapable of voicing her desires normally, warped by her brooding mind. But that was that, and this was this. Just as Idwild tugged the panty knot, I flexed and snapped the curse ropes.
"Wha... how...?"
Idwild stammered, her face draining of color as I tore off the bindings.
She backed away unsteadily while I brushed off the remnants irritably.
"You haven't changed a bit."
"H-how... It was definitely Beldra's Curse Rope..."
The black flames on her bewildered body flickered and died down.
"This can't be... I had Bertrand pinned tight... Then... what about me..."
"Whatever. Since we're here, gimme a parting gift."
"No... no... it can't end like this..."
Idwild ignored me, muttering to herself like a madwoman. Well, she was a madwoman.
"This can't happen... How long I've dreamed of this moment... It can't end so emptily..."
The fading black flames surged back fiercely.
"Hey, Idwild. You listening?"
The petite black-haired girl's eyes—clad only in a thin sleeveless shirt straining over her full breasts and black string panties—began to blaze with dark light.
"If that's how it is... if we burn together and turn to ash... if we can mix and become one that way... wouldn't that be a happy ending in its own right...?"
"What the fuck are you saying!? Hey!"
