City ​​of Witches 1187

## Chapter 1187 – #281_All-Out War (2)

#1181

1.
The chaotic atmosphere, reminiscent of a final party for the resistance before a major operation, had been organized.

Their gazes were directed towards the small witch standing on the stage of the banquet hall. Towards Eloa Tifereth, the Duchess with unique light pink hair and mysterious pink eyes.

A windbreaker suitable for activity and loose-fitting training wear.
Her hair was casually tied up, not cumbersome.

Eloa’s attire on the makeshift stage was, in fact, clearly not dignified activewear when viewed through Gehenna’s demanding aesthetic standards.

However, no one doubted her qualifications based on her attire.
That was why she had been appointed as the supreme commander of the Gehenna Allied Forces.

Her firmly closed lips slowly opened.

“There have been many tribulations.”

The revealed identity of the world.
The danger of humans, proven as Duke Erelim had warned.
The beginning of Gehenna’s division due to it.
The unification and expansion of Hexennacht’s power, seeking world dominance after Keter’s disappearance.
The betrayal of the great sage, Duke Erelim.
The closure of the Truth and True Name Academic Conference, Gehenna’s largest school.
The unfavorable power ratio that was reversed in an instant.
The unavoidable final all-out war that came at a perfect timing.

“What do you think? It’s the worst situation imaginable, enough to make you laugh. To put it nicely, it’s a situation that’s only one step less than the worst.”

Never before had witches of this scale, witches of this average hierarchy, clashed at once.
A fight is only known after the cards are revealed, and there was no precedent to refer to.

That’s why ‘winning chances’ become even more important.
If defeat looms, they will collapse in an instant, and conversely, if they feel they have the upper hand, they will burn fiercely.

However, numerous variables had already been placed on the scale pointing to Gehenna’s defeat.
The signs of defeat were darker than ever.

“I know that there are still those who hesitate. I know that anxiety rather than determination, impatience rather than a sense of duty, is gnawing at the hearts of some of you.”

Eloa did not rant like a demagogue inciting war.
She did not clench her fists as if she were moved by her own words.

“However. Even so, you are still here. You, whose purpose in life is to inherit the magic of your predecessors and complete it by entrusting your will to future generations. You have stood on a battlefield that is extremely disadvantageous.”

“Because we all know one thing. What will happen if Qliphoth, if Hexennacht, becomes the order of the world.”

She simply states calmly and quietly.

“Qliphoth says. Witches are seekers chosen to walk the path of magic.”
“That justice other than magic is merely a mundane shackle, and that witches should transcend it.”
“That the destiny given to witches is only magic, and that everything is justified to achieve that mission.”

That is their public stance.

Extreme witch-ism that considers ethics and morality as secondary issues.
That appearance may be the fundamental attribute of a ‘witch’ itself.

But Eloa cannot agree with them.

“Is that really so?”
“Is there no meaning for witches other than magic?”
“Is the mission we inherited from our teachers, the mission we will entrust to our children, just a crystallization of stubbornness?”

She denies it.
The foundation that has maintained this city is not like that.

“No.”
“We are all gathered here because we believe there is something more important than that.”

Some nod slightly in agreement.
Some clench their fists, and some rekindle their fading enthusiasm.

“To protect the order that our predecessors risked their lives to maintain. For the honor that makes a witch a witch. To pursue the path we believe is right. For the peace we will pass on to our children.”

With each word Eloa spoke, the witches of Gehenna raised the glasses in their hands.
Inside, red wine resembling blood shimmered.

“And for the witches.”

Every single one of them, under the splendid light created by the candelabra, the edges of their glasses shone.

“For the witches.”

In a solemn chorus, the glasses held by the witches shattered, scattering red wine on the floor.
The farewell wine seeped into the barren land where many would fall.

2.
The camps of Gehenna and Hexennacht were divided into two.

The Hexennacht camp, which had made Russia the capital of the witch empire, naturally occupied the north of the desert.
Gehenna, opposing them, occupied the south.

On the stage where the Qliphoth flags fluttered left and right.
Just like Gehenna, Commander-in-Chief Orselia was giving a speech in front of her legion.

The atmosphere of the camp was different from Gehenna’s.

It was rough, aggressive, and the morale of those who had found their answer was greatly elevated.
An aggressive tension, as if it would explode with a light touch, was rippling like a heat haze.

The beasts that had suppressed and hidden their nature for a long time were released from the prison called Keter.
They found justification in seeing the danger of humans.
As soon as they declared the witch empire, they devoured the Second World in an instant.
Even the de facto leader of Gehenna sided with Hexennacht, joining them, and as a result, they had a superior force than Gehenna.
Most of the witches belonging to Hexennacht participated in the war.

It would be stranger if their morale was low.
To the point where a separate motivational speech was not needed.

Orselia looked around and spread her arms wide, as if very satisfied.

“Fellow comrades who have been oppressed together for a long time. We know what this war is for.”
“It is to drag the disgusting hypocrites down from their thrones and lay the foundation for the witch empire, to punish the humans who lived comfortably in empty houses.”
“Duke Erelim, the great sage of Gehenna, also lent his strength to our Qliphoth with his excellent insight.”

Suddenly, boos erupted from the audience who had been listening.
There were also rough curses mixed in.
Erelim had clearly betrayed Gehenna and joined Qliphoth, reporting major internal spies.

However, she had been an enemy of the public for a long time.
Moreover, she had killed an internal executive in a recent dispute with the ‘Nightmare Witch’.

The higher-ups acknowledged her usefulness and accepted her, but there were still far more witches who were hostile to Erelim.

“Why keep her alive!”
“When are you going to kill that bitch!”
“Let’s tear her limbs apart, hang them, and march!”

Various objects were thrown onto the stage.
Orselia was amused and delighted at the same time.

For her, who had lived a boring life to the point of twisting her body, each of these events was enjoyable and fun.
It was to the point where she could believe that she had lived for this moment.

Propaganda is like a kind of drama.
It means that the narrative, build-up, and highlights must exist to be more deeply immersed.

What information to release and at what timing is also an important factor.

The three former witches who currently hold the position of legion commander in Qliphoth received the ‘Aries Witch’ as a sacrifice from Erelim.
But that cannot be the only reason they accepted Erelim.

Erelim proved that her defection was not a whim or deception with another corpse.

-Thud!

As Orselia tapped the stage with her heel, the spoils that Erelim had brought rose up.

The public, who had been noisy, all swallowed their breaths.
Some even let out short screams.

This was because the corpse of a witch that all the public had once feared was floating limply.

And there was no witch among the public who did not know her appearance.

Duchess Keter.
Her corpse, with her neck bent at an unnatural angle, had her brand removed, but after all sorts of magical verifications, it was proven to be the ‘main body’.

“The old and outdated chains have been completely severed.”

Keter’s death had been confirmed by various circumstances, but it still remained in the hearts of the public as an unprecedented fear.
She was that oppressive and fearful.

The old dragon who had massacred her own kind for the sake of order was dead.

“The queen of the betrayers who oppressed our comrades is dead.”

It was as if the audience, who had taken hallucinogens, were experiencing the highlight of a top star’s performance.
Fierce cheers, screams, and the sound of feet rolling and bursting with excitement echoed like celebratory fireworks.

Orselia felt like she had become a popular DJ.
When the atmosphere reached its peak, she thought it would be cooler to speak in a dictator-like manner here, and shouted with all her might.

“This is not a war, but a festival promising the prosperity of the empire!”

The legion responded with cheers to each of Orselia’s words.

Following the aftermath of the roughly heated emotions, sparks created by magic flew up.

“Plunder and pillage! Be greedy and seize!”
“Traitors who have abandoned the duty of witches! Today, the blood and bones they will scatter on this sand dune will become the fertilizer for a new era!”

“And we will witness! The pathetic sight of cowards, who have been struggling in shackles for the past years, begging for their lives! The sight of humans, who have enjoyed unearned indulgence, serving the seekers! The miracle of the order that has been twisted for hundreds of years returning to its place! The era of witches who have regained the glory they deserve! All of this is…”

As Orselia clenched her fist, the crowd became silent.
Orselia murmured in a low voice, as if putting a period at the end.

“For the witches.”

The time for the final battle had come.