A Demonic Tide and a Shocking Revelation

“Creak.”

A frigid gust of wind immediately pierced the room, slicing through Kaelan’s very being, as the little witch opened a crack in the cellar door.

She shivered involuntarily, reaching out to drag a large hemp sack behind the door.

Untying the bag, she fished out a piece of dark, rock-hard bread, bit into it with a resounding crunch, and swallowed it whole with barely any mastication.

After eating a little and resting against the wall for a moment, Kaelan rose once more, took a deep breath, and heaved a foul-smelling wooden bucket from the corner.

That bucket was filled with her urine and feces.

Lacking a proper latrine, she was forced to relieve herself in the wooden bucket, then dispose of its contents outdoors at regular intervals.

She waved away the flies buzzing around her and pushed open the cellar door again.

This time, to accommodate the heavy bucket of waste, she pushed the door wide open.

The scene outside the door stunned her momentarily; even the pervasive, bone-chilling cold seemed to lessen its grip.

“It’s snowing…”

To think she had been confined here for such an extended period…

Kaelan shielded her eyes with the back of her hand, her small, bare feet leaving a trail of shallow prints as she traversed the falling snow, making her way to the garden where she found a barren plot to empty the foul contents of the bucket.

The temperature outside was very low, and snowflakes and icy winds lashed at her, causing her teeth to chatter uncontrollably.

She turned and ran, desperate to return to the cellar with haste.

However, a strange sound interrupted her; it sounded like withered branches snapping underfoot.

Her face twitching nervously, she immediately became alert, her ears straining.

A profound silence descended.

She looked around, observing the distant master’s villa, shrouded in ice and skeletal vines, standing silently, like a twisted, grotesque monster.

There was nothing.

Only she was here, this wretched rat, presumptuously hiding in the shadows, attempting to achieve something utterly impossible.

Just recently, she learned from the maid that Vero City had been sealed due to unrest.

The maid also told her that Vireta had taken over leadership of the Redwater Gang, and now the political landscape of Vero had become unprecedentedly fraught.

People, seeking solace and safety, quickly formed a tripartite power structure, comprising:

The City Council, controlled by nobles like the Weinshield family; the Gang Alliance, represented by forces such as the Redwater Gang and the Iron Crown Guild; and the Vero Liberation Front, composed of some citizens and refugees from the lower district.

The entirety of Vero had been almost completely divided among these three major powers.

The conflicts between these three factions were utterly irreconcilable, and only one could ultimately emerge victorious.

As for Saranya?

Someone occasionally glimpsed Saranya, wandering the street corners, seemingly mad.

Beyond these fleeting sightings, there was no reliable news.

Kaelan’s previous cook and servants had fled back to the city.

The only remaining maid, who lived in the countryside, had long since left the Redwater Gang and was now sustaining Kaelan purely out of the kindness of an old woman’s heart.

She had lost all her sources of information and the Redwater Gang’s financial support.

Even her medicinal cauldron had long since gone cold, fireless.

Her fighting spirit had withered.

She drifted through her days in a daze, neither feeling urgency nor the sting of sorrow.

During these days, she spent most of her time slumped in a corner, gnawing on bread when hungry, sleeping when tired.

If, by chance, she managed to reclaim even a sliver of energy, she would don her collar and shackles, devoting every ounce of that recovered strength to self-gratification before the mirror.

Having endured prolonged confinement in darkness and countless failures, she had become as numb as a puppet.

A cold wind swept past.

Kaelan instinctively raised her head and gazed at the distant horizon.

A faint black line shimmered at the edge of her vision.

The instant her gaze fell upon it, the black line on the horizon seemed to ripple, edging a fraction closer.

It was a disaster cloud.

The demonic tide was imminent.

Upon realizing this desperate truth, her pupils abruptly constricted to pinpricks, her breathing rapidly quickened, gradually escalating into ragged, painful gasps.

It was meaningless.

Her persistence was utterly without meaning.

So much time had passed.

Even if she were to acquire the power of the Crown of Domination, how could she possibly halt such a terrifying calamity in so short a span?

It was over.

Everything was over.

She truly would never see Saranya again…

‘No, wait. Perhaps Little Ya wouldn’t perish in the demonic tide…’

“Yes… Little Ya… Little Ya might already be gone, mightn’t she…”

“Haha… hahahahaha… ugh… hahahawuwuwuwuwu—”

“What are you doing?”

The reflection of a young woman appeared in Kaelan’s peripheral vision.

The young woman was clad in ring mail, her posture straight and tall.

She held a light metal helmet in her arms, and a sword hilt protruded from her waist.

“Little Ya!!!”

Kaelan abruptly turned her head.

Upon discerning the other’s face, a profound disappointment flickered in her eyes:

“It’s you…”

The young woman’s expression was cold and resolute.

Her light golden short hair fluttered in the breeze, and her right eye was concealed beneath a black eye patch, its edge extending into spiderweb-like black-purple burn scars.

Paresha Greystone.

The one-eyed Paresha took a few steps towards Kaelan.

Her combat boots crunched through the accumulated snow, bringing her to a halt before Kaelan.

After a thorough scrutiny, Paresha frowned deeply, offering no words.

They remained in a tense standoff for a considerable duration, until Paresha tore off her large cloak and flung it onto Kaelan.

Only then did Kaelan, as if waking from a dream, clutch the cloak and wrap it tightly around herself.

She saw a hideous claw mark on Paresha’s neck.

Judging by its formidable size, the assailant had undoubtedly been an exceptionally savage, large demonic beast.

Kaelan knew that such scars on Paresha’s eye and neck could only have been inflicted within a desolate zone ravaged by the demonic tide.

Paresha… had already ventured deep into the disaster zone?

“You’ve… changed quite a bit…”

Kaelan swallowed, her voice low as she assessed Paresha.

Paresha’s face was devoid of expression, yet a flicker of pity stirred deep within her gaze.

Indeed, pity.

This young woman, whom she remembered as naive and childish, who had always been timidly deferential to her and Saranya, was now casting a pitying gaze upon her.

“You too.

I almost didn’t recognize you, Kaelan.”

“…”

“You led me on quite a search.”

“So, what do you want with me…?”

Kaelan sniffled, turning her head to surreptitiously wipe away the tears from the corners of her eyes.

“You and Saranya are two rotten bastards, and you’re even more of a bastard than she is.”

“I’m going back…”

Displeasure flickered across Kaelan’s face as she turned to retreat to the cellar, only for Paresha to suddenly lash out with a kick, sending the dung bucket flying from her grasp.

“What are you doing?!”

She instantly flared with rage.

Gray-black demonic energy billowed beside her, ready to lash out at Paresha.

But in the very next second, her neck was seized, and she found herself hoisted into the air, Paresha’s hand clamped around her throat.

She was so profoundly weak that even her struggles felt utterly futile.

Paresha held Kaelan’s slender neck with one hand and gripped her two wrists with the other, allowing Kaelan to kick and flail wildly.

Then, with a violent flick, she sent Kaelan’s small body tumbling to the ground, planting a foot firmly on her back:

“You and Saranya burst into my life, changing me completely, and yet when I fell into hardship, you both ignored me, never even visiting…

It’s outrageous…

You were the ones who made me suffer, who made me this way…”

In the latter half of the sentence, Paresha’s voice gradually softened.

“And I actually still care about both of you…

I… I’m such a goddamn fool…”

“Let… me… go…”

“I heard Freya say that you witches are very skilled at alchemy, right?”

“What’s that… got to do with you…?”

“I need you to concoct a potion capable of altering human bloodlines; I’ve gathered the necessary ingredients from the disaster-stricken zone.

Is your cauldron still functional?”

“Why should I help you…?”

“Idiot!

It’s not for me!!!”

Paresha’s eyes widened, her cheeks rapidly flushing crimson as she angrily kicked Kaelan.

“Saranya is getting married!

She’s going to be taken to bed by some stinking man!

Are you going to do anything about it, you spineless turtle?!!”

“Eh?!”