Chapter 969: Act 141 – The Witch’s Uprising IV
The crystal ball seemed to float in the darkness, its transmitted light reflecting half of a woman’s gaunt face—her cheeks deeply sunken, her complexion pale as if she were a ghost. She pressed her lips tightly together, thin enough to be almost terrifying, resembling a cut made with a knife in her dry skin. The shadow of a hood embroidered with patterns obscured her eye sockets, and her deep-set pupils glimmered like those of a feline in the pitch black.
Her expression was emotionless, and soon another face emerged from the darkness opposite her; it was also a woman’s face, though round and plump, belonging to a more robust figure. This woman slowly stepped out of the shadows, a honeyed smile on her face as she squinted her eyes and greeted her:
“Long time no see, Kulur.”
The only thing left between the two was a brilliant crystal ball emitting strange colors, its light diffusing outward before gradually blending into the darkness.
Silence lasted only a moment; perhaps having guessed that the other wouldn’t respond, Anwei smiled faintly: “You know I’m waiting for your answer; secrets can’t be hidden in the forest forever, the Magic Moon shall rise one day.”
“What answer, Anwei?” Kulur lifted her head, her hollow gaze like two whirlpools—eyes of insight, for her kind of witches could see through the currents and traps of time during divination, clarifying the puzzles of past and future. But only the heir of the Sword Moon truly possessed the ability to pierce through the fog. Legends say these eyes were derived from the giant serpent Kukulor, gifted with the power to grasp the future. The witch’s voice seemed to come from the depths of hell, chilling to the bone: “—You already know the answer to this question.”
The plump woman frowned: “Why are you so stubborn? This isn’t like you. You know that mortal loyalty holds no sway over us; our witch clan must pledge allegiance to the true masters: the Dark Dragon, Odin, and the overlord of the Minren, the leader of the legions. The moon has returned to this land; she has come back. Lionmen, burrowers, harpies, mountain folk, werewolves, and even the Minren recognize her as their mistress. You know the shadow of the all-knowing dragon has descended upon this land; she is the one destined by the past, present, and future. The Witch Queen has foretold this. Why don’t you turn back and join me?”
Kulur said nothing, but after a while, Anwei noticed her cold smirk.
“What are you laughing at?”
The darkness remained utterly silent.
Anwei’s frown deepened; she had known Kulur for many years and understood her temperament well. The Sword Moon witch inherited the power of Echis’s sixth daughter—miraculous Tadia, who mastered the domains of peace and communication. Thus, conversely, the witches of the Cup Moon were known as dark witches, blind walkers in the darkness with the ability to communicate with the mysterious and the spiritual. They received revelations from whispers and made sharp predictions, so the more silent this woman before her became, the more anxious Anwei felt.
“Babasha deceived us, Kulur; that young man is not the Dark Dragon.”
“Do you know? I have heard some rumors…”
“In the Great Glacier, some ancient spirits are awakening. This points toward that prophecy—”
“I’ve received insights from the Seven Extremes Dragon King; she was once the strongest ally of the Dark Dragon.”
“Kulur, why won’t you speak? Answer me.”
Witches rarely had fierce disputes; their mortal enemies often dealt with each other using more wicked and cruel methods, just like the witch’s motto—start through slaughter, and end through slaughter. The dark magic had long since eroded their hearts; they were cold, ruthless, and indifferent to life, yet often did not need pointless quarrels. But today was evidently an exception; even the dark space seemed to sense the tension between the two witches, and the gentle glow emitted by the crystal ball had started to turn sharp and fierce.
Kulur’s face grew paler under the blinding white light, her lips moved:
“Leave, Anwei; fate has been sealed.”
“You choose to stay?” Anwei gasped: “I thought you were merely waiting for an opportunity.”
She wanted to say more, but her voice twisted as the crystal ball suspended in mid-air suddenly seemed to extract the time and space surrounding it, bending even the flowing light into a whirlpool, sucking in darkness from all directions. Anwei’s expression turned one of shock and anger, her face distorted in such a bizarre situation as she let out a pitchy scream: “This is a dream!? How dare you spy on my dreams, Kulur, how dare you—”
Her voice abruptly cut off. As the light of the crystal ball warped to the extreme, the entire pitch-black space shattered, and Anwei exploded like glass before vanishing into the darkness.
Time passed, and at last, the gaunt woman opened her eyes again, her forehead covered in beads of fine sweat.
She found herself in a small tent, Babasha and JarSugar beside her.
“What did you see?” JarSugar, holding her seemingly endless jar of candies, curiously looked at the enigmatic woman.
“A dream of the future,” Kulur replied expressionlessly.
“You saw Anwei, ha ha, that fat woman must be furious,” JarSugar laughed: “But I’m a bit curious, Kulur, you have the eyes of insight; what did you see exactly, and why did you choose to stand with us?”
“That’s naturally because the great one is the true Dark Dragon.” Babasha said with reverence: “Kulur is the most outstanding prophet among our witches; even she stands by the great one, which indicates that fate has made its choice.”
“That may not be the case, Babasha,” JarSugar seemingly didn’t mind her subordinate disagreeing, said cheerfully: “I heard the most outstanding prophet among the witches comes from the March of Harmony and the March of Heresy. The witch of Harmony wields the power of Echis’s third daughter, Misha, governing the powers of prophecy and allure; the witch of fate is a chosen one herself. The witch of Heresy is a devotee of Temptress and possesses true insight. Compared to the darkness witches who master communication, they are likely superior in divination. Now the witch of Harmony has yet to manifest, but Temptress’s witch Loya has already stood with the Queen; thus, it’s still uncertain whether our great one is the Dark Dragon. At the very least, I think he doesn’t resemble the Dark Dragon; he’s more interesting, and I prefer him, rather than standing with that old hag.”
As a side witch, Babasha understandably didn’t have JarSugar’s deep understanding of witch lineage. Hearing what her line’s inheritors said, she felt a bit worried. It was she who had discovered Brendel’s potential and introduced the young man to JarSugar and Kulur, but if Brendel wasn’t the Dark Dragon, hadn’t she made a colossal mistake?
As for JarSugar’s disrespectful remarks toward the Dark Dragon, the old witch pretended not to hear.
Meanwhile, Kulur seemed oblivious to the conversation between the old and young witches, sitting quietly like a decayed log. JarSugar noticed her indifference and expressed some dissatisfaction: “Kulur, you still haven’t answered my question.”
Kulur glanced at the young girl, paused for a moment before answering indirectly: “Anwei is the Witch Queen’s handmaiden.”
“I knew that long ago,” JarSugar said dismissively: “What kind of answer is that?”
Kulur stayed silent for a moment longer: “She is in Erluin.”
Although she didn’t specify who ‘she’ was, JarSugar seemed to understand, as if having her tail stepped on, she sprang up: “What!?”
“A few years ago, I encountered her; she was with a young girl who had a name—Sophia.” She paused: “Not a changed name, but her real name.”
“The Thirteenth Moon!” JarSugar gasped.
……
XVI: THE TOWER——
The lost moon has stolen the light
……
The hall echoed with buzzing sounds, and the crowd was distinctly divided into two sides, evidently at a standoff. One side was neatly dressed, consisting of the Cruz nobles who had fled from the South, while the other side donned sky-blue battle robes, wearing the standard armor of the White Lion army, the Erluin people who had come with the fleet—strictly speaking, they were Erluin soldiers.
Though the nobles held a positional advantage, the young soldiers of Erluin brandished gleaming weapons, making the advantage seem insignificant, enough to make these nobles hesitate to advance, only daring to glare or mutter curses.
“Bring out your lord!”
“This is the territory of the Cruz people, not a place where you Erluin can act recklessly!”
“How long do you intend to deceive us?”
“This is the Cruz war; you are not welcome here!”
Voices raised one after the other, sounding similar to scenes often seen at Cruz or Erluin noble councils. Perhaps if it were under normal circumstances, some prominent nobles would disdain to roll up their sleeves for such matters, but times had changed; their subordinates had either been captured by Brendel or forcibly conscripted into the ‘local garrison’ controlled by the Erluin, and if they didn’t take action themselves, they might not have anyone left to do it for them.
Nevertheless, among the crowd, a few individuals maintained elevated status, five in total. They were representatives elected by the nobles to negotiate with Brendel: Earl Orkans, Earl Ji’en, Sir Fusi, Baron Tyrian, and Knight Rogers. Of course, the court knight Rogers was merely included for the numbers; he often mingled with Brendel’s group, leading the nobles to hope he could play a more significant role at this time, at least to say a few decent words in front of those cursed Erluin people on behalf of the Cruz nobles.
However, compared to the fuming nobles, these five appeared more composed. Earl Orkans exchanged glances with his colleagues, observing the scene before them, his face displaying a lack of optimism. Unlike those nobles who generally had little to do with Brendel, they understood the temperament of the young lord; although he seemed indifferent and easy to negotiate with, they could tell his personality was likely far more stubborn than anyone expected.
Furthermore, under ordinary circumstances, they should have already been scattered by the guards. Now, while they were nominally still the managers of this port, nearly all the military forces were under the control of the Erluin, making it painfully clear that, frankly speaking, they were nothing but puppets without any real voice. Yet today, the other side appeared unconcerned, seemingly allowing them to handle the situation.
Both Earl Orkans and the other individuals sensed the smell of conspiracy.
However, at that moment, they found themselves in a difficult position, with only Knight Rogers forcibly pulled into the scene being able to observe coldly, while the other representatives were already showing signs of sweat on their foreheads. Though the surrounding crowd was exuberantly noisy, the four noble representatives in the middle remained tense, fixated on the door to the second floor of the hall. They knew if Brendel had any messages to convey, someone from there would soon emerge.
Sure enough.
With a crisp sound, the door was pushed open.
The noise of the door opening seemed to act as a signal, instantly silencing the entire hall as everyone instinctively looked up, countless gazes converging on that door.
