Chapter 336: The Witch’s Game (1)
– The Tea Party –
It was ironic—
A breathtaking garden, adorned with flowers of every shape and color, blooming in the heart of a continent reduced to lifeless desert.
The Witch’s Garden had always been an enigma.
A dreamlike place whispered about across the Ultrass Continent.
But only a select few were ever granted the honor of stepping inside.
Among them, Simon Manus had been the most frequent guest ... thanks to their shared eccentricities, which allowed the two to sit for hours, talking without a hint of boredom.
Now, Simon sat quietly at Beatrice’s game table, unmoving, eyes closed, as if awaiting something inevitable.
Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait long.
A faint smile curved his lips as he opened his eyes, meeting the gaze of the pale-skinned woman with long black hair now seated across from him.
She wore an elegant dress of black and violet, her expression darkened by annoyance as she glared at him with violet eyes.
"Well, well... what do we have here? Kihihihi... looks like someone suffered a spectacular failure."
Simon’s voice was thick with mockery as he leaned forward, elbows on the table.
Beatrice rested her chin on one hand, turning away with a pout.
"No. The plan worked perfectly."
"Oh? Then why didn’t you bring back your other body? Isn’t it your favorite?"
She remained silent, her face reddening slightly as she turned further away.
"I..."
She mumbled something under her breath, barely audible.
"Speak up, woman. You know I’m hard of hearing."
"I died."
"Louder."
He pressed further, until she finally snapped.
"I DIED! That damned puppet got destroyed, alright!? Happy now?!"
"Kihihihi... Now that is unexpected. Our dear Beatrice—defeated after all that boasting and meticulous planning."
"I wasn’t defeated... The game’s still ongoing."
Simon couldn’t help but laugh.
Opportunities to tease the Eternal Witch were rare—and too precious to waste.
"I wonder... who did it? Was it Phoenix? I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s strong enough to beat most Lords and Hollows."
"It wasn’t Phoenix."
Beatrice’s answer cut through the air, making Simon pause in surprise.
"You’re telling me... you lost to one of the Empire’s children?"
She gave a slow nod.
"That’s right."
Her confirmation only deepened Simon’s confusion.
"I know your homunculus copies aren’t as powerful as your real body, but to lose to a mere child..."
"He’s not just any child."
Beatrice’s lips curled into a faint smile as she recalled the battle.
"His name is Frey Starlight. When he fights seriously, he can rival SS rank Awakened. And that’s not all .. he possesses bizarre abilities I’ve never seen before."
She leaned back in her chair, her expression pensive.
"He can nullify magic somehow... My magic—something no one in this world has ever been able to suppress—vanished completely the moment I got close to him. Not to mention those two burning swords of his... His strikes could obliterate entire battlefields."
She paused, eyes distant.
"It’s likely... he was the one who interrupted the teleportation trap."
"To my knowledge, there’s no method to alter a teleportation gate’s destination from inside the gate itself." Simon said, while stroking his beard.
"That’s what I thought too. But clearly, we were wrong."
Had he used some kind of tool?
Even if so—no such tool was known to exist.
"This is troublesome. Another monster talent has emerged within the Empire."
If Frey could unleash such power at this age, how far could he rise?
Perhaps... a calamity on the scale of Abraham Starlight himself.
As Simon sank deeper into those grim thoughts, he noticed Beatrice smiling unconsciously.
"Hey... what’s with that cursed grin?"
"Ah—pardon me."
Beatrice quickly composed herself.
"I just got a little too excited. With someone like him in the mix, the game will only become more... fun."
Simon burst out laughing.
"You’re truly insane... kihihihi."
"And you’re insufferable."
She pouted again, fiddling with the small toys laid out on the table.
"But I did lose a lot today... I really liked that puppet. She was my finest one."
"That’s entirely your fault. You should’ve just gone with your real body. No matter how advanced your homunculus are, they’ll never channel your highest-tier spells."
With a long sigh, Beatrice reset her odd chessboard.
"I know I would’ve won if I used my real body. But I won’t."
The mad witch lifted a chess piece shaped like a queen and waved it mockingly in Simon’s face, her expression one of theatrical sarcasm.
"No matter how hard you try, you filthy old pervert, I’ll never let you see my real body."
"Bah! Who’d want to see that rotten thing? My interest lies solely in your dolls..."
"Which is exactly why you’re a pervert."
The two bickered for hours, their strange relationship blurring the lines between friendship and something entirely... other.
Simon never once dared cross the line. Beatrice had never shown him her true form—not even once.
After all, how many Awakened could hope to survive against an SS+ rank witch?
Those were the thoughts running through the mind of the Hollow, the Puppet Master—Simon Manus—as he gazed at the whimsical woman who only moved when her twisted whims demanded it.
And unfortunately for everyone else...
The children of the Empire had become her latest obsession.
...
...
...
The Desolate Plains of the Ultrass Continent.
A land that had devoured life, leaving behind only hunger and death.
Under the shadow of night, a flickering glow dashed across the cursed earth—vanishing and reappearing in flashes of movement.
"Void Step."
Snow muttered the name of his skill as he traversed vast distances, his face tight with determination.
Everything had happened so fast ..
The ambush, the chaos, the forced separation scattered them across the deadly continent.
Snow quickly realized how dire the situation truly was, especially with several weak links among the Elite Class.
Some of them wouldn’t survive out here alone.
"They must be close by..."
Using Void Step again and again, Snow scoured the wastelands without direction, wondering if the decision they made back then had been a mistake.
But it was too late now.
Facing the entire Ultras army head-on would’ve been suicide—an express ticket to annihilation.
Despite everything, the Church’s golden prodigy tried to remain optimistic, even as he sprinted for hours, finding no sign of life—only endless silence.
It made him wonder...
Was this land even more lifeless than the Nightmare Land’s?
Eventually, his solitude came to an end.
After dozens of teleportations ..
Snow stopped abruptly, eyes narrowing.
"A tent?"
In the distance, a massive tent stood tall, surrounded by several others and flanked by black flags flapping violently in the wind.
As he approached, he realized it wasn’t just one tent ..
It was an entire city of them, arranged like a traveling circus.
At the camp’s entrance, a weathered sign read:
"Black Flag."
The name felt oddly fitting.
But what truly stunned him was what lay inside.
For the first time since entering the Ultrass Continent, Snow laid eyes on something he never expected ..
People.
Real, living humans.
Not twisted mutations. Not deformed beasts.
Actual men and women, walking and talking, moving from shop to stall amidst crumbling walls and canvas shelters.
Snow quickly cloaked himself in a black hooded robe—one he’d taken from a fallen Ultras corpse—and slipped among the crowd.
His top priority was to find his companions.
If they weren’t here, then perhaps he could at least uncover clues about long-range teleportation gates—their only way home.
Blending into the crowd was surprisingly easy. The inhabitants came and went in cycles, indifferent to a lone newcomer.
At first glance, everything seemed normal.
Ordinary humans trying to live in the heart of death itself.
Snow dared to hope.
Perhaps he’d finally found a haven in this forsaken wasteland.