City ​​of Witches 579

Chapter 579 – #119_Comedy

#579

1.
The pain of a sharp blade tearing through her abdomen.
Just before the dull ache turned into a sharp pain, Dorothy, slowly collapsing, belatedly realized his method.

If there was an unbreakable, solid castle, attack the ground beneath it, not the castle itself.
If you understood the principles and conditions of the Descent, it was a tactic anyone could attempt.

But what if that castle wasn’t built on soft earth?
What if it was a fortress built on solid granite?

Dorothy’s magic was a sturdy fortress, and the chapel supporting its foundation had a defense that couldn’t be compared to granite.
Even if his full-power spear throw had weakened, it only managed to leave a small scratch.

But no matter what, using the Red Branch, even the sturdiest foundation could be damaged.

He started his breach from there.

Shin Siwoo deliberately engaged Dorothy in a persistent close-quarters battle.
He seemed on the verge of being pushed back, yet he never fell, meeting Dorothy’s sword head-on.

Dorothy thought she was only moving forward, but she was being led in a large semicircle, forced to retreat.

So, why did he do that?

The moment he struck the ground with his spear, just before the floor shattered and a storm of distortion erupted from within,
Dorothy saw it.

The marks he had been making on the floor while seemingly struggling to deflect her powerful attacks.

Even while deflecting the sword with absolute power, he used that force to carve marks into the floor.

Some of those marks, which Dorothy had dismissed as foolish attempts, were now glowing in response to Siwoo’s magic.
Surprisingly, his constant scraping of the floor was to draw a magic circle.

Of course, it was natural not to notice.

Even if it was a simplified magic circle, creating a circuit by scraping the floor during such an intense battle was beyond common sense, a feat of acrobatics.

While Dorothy, oblivious, fell into the trap step by step, he was clever.

Dorothy was a first-rate witch.
Even if she didn’t pay much attention to the floor, if it had been a clearly visible magic circle, she would have noticed something.

That’s why Siwoo hid his grand plan by leaving a pile of meaningless strokes, preventing the magic formula from being exposed.
He constantly appeared to be struggling, making Dorothy confident in her superiority.

He hid his plan until the very end, feigning disadvantage before overturning the situation in one fell swoop.
If he had carelessly planted his spear in the bare ground and done the same thing, the range of destruction wouldn’t have been this wide.
It would have only created a slightly larger crack, and Dorothy wouldn’t have fallen.

Dorothy thought he was using a chisel to scrape away at the granite foundation, but in reality, he was digging a deep hole to stuff explosives into.

However, he had steadily completed the preparation of the magic formula, and that magic was none other than Nukelavee’s.
The overlapping distortion field, through transverse waves, destroyed the ground even more efficiently.
The distortion field, unable to penetrate the ground any further, surged upwards like a sound echoing in an inverted bell.

Ah, really.
One couldn’t help but give a round of applause in admiration.

Soon, Dorothy’s consciousness was dyed in a dark, murky darkness.

2.
What grabbed the edge of her consciousness, which had been sucked into the darkness, was a familiar voice.

“Stab.”

Darkness, a steel chair, a witch, Dorothy, a plump rat, a musty smell, a gas lamp, iron chains, a mentor.

Fragments of an old dream that she hadn’t had for some time.
Really.
She didn’t want to see this kind of flashback at the very end.

Dorothy received the long knife her mentor had given her.

Her breath, quickened by tension, combined with the unique humidity of the basement.
The leather-wrapped handle of the dagger was slippery with sweat.
Before her was a witch captured by her mentor.

“Go on, stab her.”

A gentle voice urging her, and a hand pushing her back.

The witch, gagged and in a disheveled state, writhed slightly, her eyes wide, showing only the whites.
Having been used in her mentor’s experiments, she pitifully didn’t even have the strength to beg for mercy.

Dorothy looked back and forth between the knife, the witch, and her mentor’s kind face.

But soon, she approached with quick steps.
Grasping the dagger tightly so it wouldn’t slip from her sweat, she stabbed the spot her mentor had taught her in one swift motion.

The well-honed blade accurately slipped between the ribs and pierced the heart.
Twisting it to finish the job, she felt the sensation of bone scraping against the metal.
The witch’s eyes rolled back.
Her whole body trembled vigorously.
Her toes and fingers curled up chaotically.

“Yes, you’re doing well.”

Darkness, a steel chair, a witch, Dorothy, a musty smell, a gas lamp, iron chains, a mentor, a dagger, the smell of blood, the smell of blood, the smell of blood.

Her first murder.

It was when Dorothy was still a novice witch, when she was eight years old, when her mentor’s kind words were more precious than the distinction between good and evil.

Achievements don’t easily create novice witches.
The data obtained by stealing the marks of other witches postpones the ‘wall’ that one can never overcome alone.
However, an even bigger reason is that the act of creating a novice witch and inheriting a mark is very risky.

A novice witch who has just inherited a mark and become an achiever faces a harsh world.

Not only is there no safe haven, but even achievers in the same situation cannot be trusted.
There is a risk of turning all the research results accumulated over generations into nothing.

That’s why her mentor taught Dorothy how to fight, and more importantly, about her mindset.

The mindset that she could kill anyone, anytime, if they became an enemy.
In other words, Dorothy’s first murder was an early education by her predecessor.

At the time, she didn’t feel any guilt.
Only occasionally did the witch with her physiologically repulsive appearance appear in her dreams.

After that, Dorothy killed quite a few people.
As her mentor instructed, because it was a necessary act.

She had fought witches her mentor had ‘prepared’ to some extent, and she had risked her life against other novice witches.
Sometimes, they would bring in traitors or death row inmates from their business at the time and assign her the execution.

When the number easily exceeded two or three times Dorothy’s age.

“Don’t trust anyone, and if they appear as enemies, kill them mercilessly. If your mind doesn’t break, Sahakiel is the strongest.”

With those words, which would easily make the TOP 3 of ‘the most uncool last words,’ her mentor closed her eyes contentedly.

Afterward, as written in her mentor’s will, Dorothy took up her sword and butchered her mentor’s corpse.

It’s not that she doesn’t understand her mentor’s intentions, but she thinks it was a twisted affection and education to the very end.
If she had the mindset to dismember the corpse of her mentor, who was like a parent to her, she must have become cruel enough for her mentor to be relieved.

She still doesn’t know whether she should feel sorry for her mentor or be proud…

At the time, Dorothy finished the troublesome task without any hesitation, swinging her sword.
A body whose life activities had stopped was no different from the chunks of meat that appeared on the dining table every day.

For three years after receiving the inheritance, it was a continuous struggle.
Because all sorts of uninvited guests came looking for Dorothy after they got information that the witch of the Path had just finished her inheritance.

Two exiles, one hunter from Gehenna, and two achievers.
What they expected was a naive, young achiever who didn’t know the ways of the world, but Dorothy splendidly betrayed their expectations.

Thanks to her predecessor’s arrangements, Dorothy wasn’t afraid to wield magic.
She didn’t feel the need to judge good and evil when taking someone’s life, so she had no hesitation in her actions.
She simply cleared away all obstacles, like swatting away flying insects with the back of her hand.

“Dorothy, are you okay? It must have been hard for you?”

When Dorothy, who had just received the inheritance, was becoming a figure of fear and no longer looked down upon.
The last witch who came to see her was her mother’s friend and an achiever.
She hugged her warmly and comforted her for the hardships she had endured.

“What? I’m not hurt at all~?”

Why she needed to be comforted.
Why she had to receive pitying looks.
Dorothy didn’t know.

Humans are social animals.
Witches are also fundamentally human.
Dorothy, who had been relentlessly worn down and eroded, making it difficult to find her humanity,
instinctively followed that warmth.

Simply because her embrace was warm, Dorothy quietly followed her.
Just being with her made her feel a strange sense of stability, like the time she had spent with her mentor.

In a way, just as a wound that has no pain receptors is still a wound,
Dorothy must have been exhausted without even knowing she was exhausted.

It was only a few months later that she realized it was all a facade, a pre-emptive maneuver to seize Sahakiel’s mark.
At the time, she was at the 17th rank, two ranks lower than Dorothy, and she had tried to take her life while Dorothy was asleep.

Perhaps if she had waited patiently for another month, Dorothy would have been caught off guard, but fortunately or unfortunately, she hadn’t let her guard down until then.

“I was wrong! Just once… please forgive me for the sake of our predecessors.”

Even while watching her bow her head and cry, she thought it was a truly shameless request.

Contrary to those thoughts, Dorothy stopped her sword for the first time in her life in the face of a plea for mercy.
She felt a throbbing pain in her chest.
Clear tears flowed down her blankly staring eyes.

Betrayal.
This feeling was definitely betrayal.

“Get lost.”

Dorothy turned her back.

Ironically, she tried to stab Dorothy from behind, taking advantage of her last opening.
The witch, who had refused mercy and pursued her vile desires to the very end, met a miserable death befitting her.

Dorothy blankly looked down at the crushed corpse of the witch.

Is this death?

She muttered, pressing down on her roughly pounding heart with her blood-stained hand.

And is this life?

After that day, Dorothy abandoned her last bit of weakness.
A smile was always etched on her expressionless face.

The world that surrounded her, the world.
The life that floated around in it, mouthing words, life.
It all felt like a very funny comedy.