Even the Supreme Witch is a Rookie at Parenting
In the fleeting instant when the apocalypse descended upon the world and the stars began to perish, time itself seemed frozen eternally. Those who had come to investigate hesitated before the undeniable scene of devastation.
The Witch Empress had returned. Some said it had been fifty years, others thirty... She had always been a being shrouded in bizarre rumors, to the point where young folks wondered if she even existed. In childhood tales, she was the terror invoked to scare disobedient kids: "The Witch Witchcraft will snatch you away!"
Perhaps age had mellowed her, or maybe with all her old grudges gone—those entangled in her enmities having vanished—her rage had subsided. Her final act, the mythic battle against the Archdemon of Great Cataclysmic Evil, was legendary. Plenty believed she had been recuperating from its aftermath.
Amid all the scandals and whispers, one thing was clear: she was back. Word had it she even had a child now, though imagining her raising one seemed absurd—maybe someone made it up. Anyway.
"What a sight we don't want to walk into..."
A young investigator from the survey team muttered before the ruins of a nation built by the scale-folk, a race whose name might not even survive in history. His seniors or the captain leading them might have scolded such weakness, but they felt the same dread and stayed silent.
From the building wrenched whole from the earth and hoisted skyward, black liquid dripped endlessly. It seemed like magic at first, but the potent life force revealed it was something alive. How could anyone turn life into black ink... no, black water?
"Truly baffling. Why would anyone do that?"
"...The arrogance of intelligent beings often breeds ignorance."
The elderly elf investigator, who had retched in terror just before entering, stuffed medicine into his mouth to endure. The young one apologized for his slip, but the elf forgave him—it was elven hubris that had caused the disaster, after all. Unlike other elves, he showed humble respect to the young man.
Even those who witnessed it called it a nightmare; how could those who hadn't believe it? At the very least, this site—proclaiming the Witch Empress's return—would reveal fragments of the truth.
There once was a nation, a formidable one at that. Militarily, economically, ideologically mighty, blessed by a pair of gods who watched over it. It boasted three beings rivaling the godlike Overlords. Even the king was a demigod, destined to lead it eternally. What perfect, unshakeable dynasty?
Yet it fell in half a day. Who would believe that?
"Ugh... urk..."
"Sir, are you alright?"
"I... I feel it... the witch's presence..."
Nothing but rubble surrounded them, no living beings save the black water. But the elf clutched his chest in agony, while the older investigators whimpered in fear. Seeing fearless veterans half-panicked, the young ones began to soak in terror too.
Still, they pressed on—not from courage, but fear of death and duty. How far did they trek through the desolate ruins of the fallen city, devoid of a single survivor?
Into a lightless world, an unknown realm they stepped. White sand clung to their feet, black liquid flowing atop it without staining anything.
"This... an astral plane—the spirit realm—has eroded into the material world from excessive power."
"Pardon? So this is the spirit realm?"
"Precisely the midpoint. But no souls of the dead anywhere..."
The landscape inverted colors, alien; the sky pitch-black and eerie. The seasoned captain warned that if this were the true spirit realm, they'd have died horribly upon entry—a place requiring qualifications just to witness, a miracle they'd survived mere sight of it.
"Please, let this be the only glimpse we get."
"With the Witch Empress back, worse hells await."
They advanced relentlessly, like wingless beings plummeting—moths chasing light without will or choice. Even reporting "too scared, we retreated" would earn forgiveness. Why else had the emperor himself promised lavish rewards before their departure?
No one would blame them for fleeing. And so they beheld it: scale-folk piled like mountains. Not a single breath of life remained. Where the Witch Empress tread, even weeds were denied existence.
Only then did they realize the "great wall" was the bodies of the twin serpent gods. And what they thought were castle ruins... the mound behind the throne... Some bled from their eyes upon recognizing it—cursed by keen observation seeing the unseable. But the wounds vanished instantly. The Witch Empress's mercy, awaiting their arrival.
So, who would approach the once-dreaded Witch-King of witches—the fiend who warred with heroes, even exploding the first one? The ultimate horror transcending demon lord to evil god, slaying divinities. Life hung on her whim. Some stabbed their thighs with knives to fend off fainting, lest they trigger annihilation. Even those wounds healed.
Was the Empress in good spirits?
"I've grown tired of waiting."
God, let it be so. Perched on the king's throne, the emotionless witch devoured the demigod who had strutted arrogantly—hopefully pleased.
"Odd. My baby pup's snake roast was delicious. Just grill over fire, right?"
She ignored the investigators entirely, treating the nation's king—denied sentience, branded "monster"—as cooking ingredient. At least she wouldn't eat humans, they hoped. Monster roasts were common enough...!!
"Ugh... ahhh..."
One investigator, staring too long, succumbed to madness, foaming at the mouth. Her hair, vast as the cosmos, shifted pink; her garb, made from some entity's hide, writhed alive. But more terrifying were her eyes—pure, lightless black voids. Peering in warped surroundings, melted perception. Even now, space around her corroded into Witchcraft-tainted grotesquery.
"We beseech audience with Empress Witchcraft! May we confirm details of this subjugation?!"
"Sure, go ahead."
A shadowy witch appeared beside her, speaking for her.
"The... the two gods' subjugation..."
"Did I?"
"The massive serpents that charged right away."
"Don't remember."
"Their heads burst the moment you gazed."
"Th-then the Overlord and demigod..."
"Were there such things?"
"Yes, they attacked when you dimension-shifted and crushed the nation."
"Hm... sorry, really don't recall."
"You swatted them like flies."
"That's what they say?"
The captain bowed in thanks at the report's end and fled. The Holy Kingdom warned thrice, Hero Association thrice, even the Pantheon begged them to stop—but none objected, praising the new gods' nation. Pity the brainwashed masses.
"Inferior races always question... forget in fifty years anyway."
Kidnapping a witch to exploit her powers, assuming she'd vanished? Aris Witchcraft couldn't fathom it.
"Anyway, I've weakened. Took half a day... Back then, no traces left."
"I find now more convenient."
"Oh?"
Her adjutant withheld details: lost in thoughts, she brushed off everything with "Got it," "Yeah yeah," "Was it?"—blissfully easy. No prickliness, ate anything blankly—pure comfort.
"Witches have always been too ambiguous."
Not dragon-overwhelmingly strong, nor elite-factioned like higher races. Minority yet potently powerful, persecuted for talents—hunted, enslaved like cattle under false charges. Spawned monsters like her, perhaps.
"We warned: touch witches, face extinction."
Back as empress, griping about workload and boredom—briefly. A crow dove from the sky, dropped a letter from its beak to Witchcraft, and flew off.
"Kyaa! Look! Adjutant! Our baby pup wrote Mommy a letter!"
"...Indeed."
"Wahhh... Scared he'd resent me forever for turning him girl, couldn't sleep or eat..."
"You haven't read it yet?"
"Sigh, adjutant... I bore him in agony, but don't I know our pup's an angel? In the Holy Kingdom, even the Holy King would... no. If smitten begging for him, I'd keep my son to myself."
"Ah, yes..."
"Ugh, wanna brag everywhere. But birthed as boy... well, that's nice too..."
Witches were a minority race, mostly female... but males born occasionally. Despite transcendent powers, most emerged mana-weak, frail, incompetent endlessly. Yet a male witch's firstborn was always a witch daughter. Thus their precarious survival. Even Witchcraft's son couldn't be strong.
The adjutant guessed why she hid her child but stayed mum...
"Look! So different from Mommy... Fighting for friends? Mommy has none, can't relate, but so warm and kind!"
"Urk..."
Overwhelming. Pink-glowing eyes in joy blinded—deathly. Endless son-boasts, then "can't steal hearts"—exhausting. Better than fearing death from glances, but tiring still.
"Ahh... Does our pup know Mommy like this? 'Who're you?' might shock him dead."
Wanting to show her diligent working-mom side, but if unrecognized? Aris Witchcraft shuddered in terror. Her adjutant, unaware she had emotions, found this scarier.
"My precious golden boy... Academy thriving, friends made... Forgave Mommy blocking his dream, said he loves me... wahhh... No bullies, good."
If there were, she'd obliterate academy staff and buildings—build a witch academy elsewhere.
"Adjutant? That failing witch kid to Sword City? Auntie's there... Hmm, pity Ephemera house changed heads. Close with the previous."
Aris Witchcraft rubbed her chin, pondering rare friends.
"Sigh... Want knee pillow eating son's meat pie..."
Grumbling nothing tasted right, Aris rose. Back to emotionless monster-face, eyeing her adjutant.
"Next job?"
"Yes, cult summoning outer gods."
"Cockroaches—split fathers' heads, still swarm endlessly."
Heading to work, pondering if son knew why she made him female. Loving her blindly, worrying she'd catch cold—so sweet.
"...But what's a cold?"
"Idiots don't get them."
"Then never... I was academy's eternal flunk-out."
Son probably knew Mommy the dropout too? Mortified, face-in-pillow worthy. Professors' "study or regret in old age" hit different...
"Wait~ When did I become duchess? Wasn't I commoner?"
Adjutant sighed, pushing whiny Aris fearing son's hate.
"Ah, our pup... Vacation, what're you up to...?"
Munching cookies sent with the letter, she sighed. Vacation or not, Wiyu Witchcraft—cert-hunting for graduation—thrived worry-free, probably.
