Chapter 110
“Hannibal, now is the perfect opportunity to receive the true blessing of the Witch.”
It was a chance to atone for the sins of the ancestors. Not a curse, not a lie, but a genuine opportunity to receive her heartfelt blessing.
As a descendant of the witch, it was the last chance to pray for her well-being and safety.
“Lord of Tegenes.”
Anne gripped her hand tighter, addressing Hannibal differently. Seeing Anne steel her heart in his stead, Hannibal cast aside his hesitation.
“Lady Moira.”
Hannibal approached Moira and bowed deeply.
“I will first ask the witch for forgiveness.”
Carefully, he placed the golden key on Moira’s palm. Slowly, her pale fingers curled around the small key.
“You are finally correcting your ancestor’s mistakes. Clyde will now protect the West with his own power.”
The witch’s violet eyes sparkled and shone as she looked down at her clenched fists, and a glow of happiness spread across her face.
“Finally…”
Moira opened her palm, and the golden key spun and flew toward her ankle.
The anklet jingled as it circled her ankle, the key finding the small lock and clicking open.
“…Freedom!”
Moira laughed brightly. The floating anklet and golden key were enveloped in light before turning to dust and disappearing.
“Wahahahaha!”
Jumping down from the witch’s altar, Moira leaped like a child in delight.
“Five… five hundred years it took! Asad, it took five hundred years to break free from your seal!”
Her mouth held laughter even as she expressed her fury, giving her an eerie and almost frightening appearance.
“…Are you leaving?”
Hannibal asked. Moira, bounding along the forest path, looked back with her silver hair flowing.
“Yes, I must go.”
Her face, relieved and radiant, stirred an unexpected pang of regret in him.
He had thought their encounters were out of duty and responsibility rather than affection. Had he grown attached to her over the years of meeting the witch annually?
“Why, do you feel regret?”
Her playful smile was just like always, prompting a small, involuntary smile on Hannibal’s lips.
“Yes, I do.”
The witch must find humans utterly tiresome—betrayed in love, used by people.
Bound by a seal for so long, she could not even leave the Witch’s Forest. Hannibal had no reason to try to hold her back, so he simply watched her with a lonely expression.
Meanwhile, Moira also felt a twinge of sorrow as she watched her descendant.
Knowing that her descendant, who resembled her so much, grew up unloved by parents or anyone else, it was heartbreaking.
“You must go. You should have left long ago. Don’t wish for miracles or make requests. Rarely does it end well.”
Hannibal nodded toward her faint smile.
Moira slowly glanced around, then turned her gaze from Hannibal to Arthur, who was dumbstruck. Startled, Arthur stepped back.
“There is something you haven’t dealt with yet, Arthur Clyde. You still have a ‘promise,’ don’t you?”
Twisting a smile on one side of her lips, Moira made Arthur shudder.
“Eek! Spare me—please!”
Arthur clutched his hair and fell backward in panic. He hadn’t even approached, yet he scrambled backward on his buttocks, looking pitiful.
At that moment, Hannibal stepped in front of Arthur.
“Please show mercy to your father.”
Moira noticed the sense of duty filling Hannibal’s otherwise expressionless eyes.
Looking down again, the old man with red eyes flailing on the floor looked utterly pathetic.
“Then I suppose I don’t need to intervene.”
She swiveled her head and turned her gaze toward Miss Mighty.
“Why not release Gray Benton?”
“But wouldn’t that interfere with the witch?”
“You’ve been bothering me since earlier.”
Anne inhaled sharply, trying to locate Gray amid their conversation. Behind Miss Mighty, she saw a man magically forced to kneel.
With a humiliating expression and tightly sealed lips, he seemed unable even to speak due to the spell.
“When did you wake up?”
“Right after the witch lifted the seal. Gray tried to rush forward, so we restrained him.”
Miss Mighty answered Anne’s question politely.
Even now, his eyes glared with full hostility, lips trembling.
“Release him. Today is, after all, the last time we meet.”
“Yes.”
At Moira’s command, Miss Mighty gestured, and Gray sprang up, exhaling loudly.
“Is this not against our contract?”
“What do you mean?”
“I sacrificed my life to turn back time, but Anne went to your descendant. We need a new contract!”
“Pff…”
Moira chuckled softly, then looked Gray directly in the eyes and tilted her head.
“The contract has been fulfilled. You turned back time with your life, so it is over.”
“But that was for Anne’s and my happiness! Why else would I have made such a contract?”
Moira’s smile vanished as she said:
“You sacrificed your life for love when you were weak and unhappy, yet you seem to have forgotten it all so quickly.”
Moira whispered, stepping close to Gray, who was trembling in anger and frustration.
“For Anne’s happiness alone. That was all you added when you made your wish. Have you already forgotten?”
“Of course that—!”
“Why were you so certain Anne’s happiness meant you? Despite all your sins and mistakes.”
“I… I…”
Gray clenched both fists, trembling. Then he turned to see Anne standing beside Hannibal.
The two standing side by side looked harmonious, almost tender. Hannibal’s eyes were filled with concern and affection for Anne.
“I was trying to do well—I wanted to do well from now on!”
His excuses sounded pitiful, making his cries feel even emptier. Ignored by all, Moira addressed Anne.
“Anne, are you happy, having your time returned?”
“Yes, I am.”
Anne answered confidently, clutching Hannibal’s arm tightly.
“Then my contract has been executed perfectly.”
Turning to look at Gray again, his face pale, it was a sight to behold.
“You deceived me—I was deceived! By you, by your mother, by everyone!”
Gray, crying out in sorrow, drew a dagger hidden in his clothing.
“-!”
“Cease your reckless actions, Duke Benton.”
“…Nothing works in this land. Hence witches and Clydes alike are cursed. In a land of primitive savages, you cannot be happy, Anne Pero.”
The blade trembled weakly in Gray’s shaking hand.
“Put the knife down.”
Hannibal pressed him with a killing intent. Gray hesitated, stepping back, muttering curses out of frustration.
Anne looked down at him beside Hannibal, not hiding her contempt. Gray’s despair deepened under that gaze.
“I won’t—I won’t let this go!”
Clutching the dagger tightly, he looked around for someone to vent his rage upon.
His eyes finally fell on the defenseless old man lying without even a proper shield.
“Yes, Count Arthur! You deceived me too. You said the golden key would ruin Clyde! How exactly is he ruined?!”
Gray charged in rage but soon lost his grip, and the dagger clattered to the floor.
In the presence of the witch and the magician, Gray’s attacks were as futile as a child’s play.
“Ugh, ugh!”
Ultimately, Miss Mighty restrained Gray again, forcing him to kneel.
“Shall I release him?”
Miss Mighty asked the witch. Moira shook her head.
“Your petty skills are quite useful, aren’t they?”
Moira looked over Miss Mighty with a slightly disdainful gaze.
Though she had just taken the golden key, her expression was not entirely kind.
However, Miss Mighty, pleased by the attention, spoke brightly:
“May I ask one more thing, Lady Witch?”
“What is it?”
“There are many magicians in Luto, but most struggle to properly control their magic. In our desperation, we even comb through records left by Asad.”
“And?”
The air turned tense at her words, risking the witch’s displeasure.
Anne glanced back, trying to stop Miss Mighty, but she looked at Moira with utmost earnestness.
Miss Mighty was neither deceiving the witch nor overreaching her power.
“Could you help alleviate the side effects we magicians suffer from magic?”
Anne and Hannibal finally understood why Miss Mighty had been so desperate to meet the witch.
“Don’t you realize it’s greed to desire more magic than you’re born with?”
Moira reprimanded Miss Mighty.
The grand and majestic mage lowered his body like a child, lips tightly sealed, before the witch.
“Is your wish desperate enough to risk your life?”
“Would my life suffice?”
Moira shook her head. She could see a greater ambition beyond Miss Mighty’s gaze.
“If it is merely your desire, your life can solve it.”
“…In Luto, people live under the protection of magic. It was only through magic that we could check the rise of Hyman. So this wish cannot be merely my selfish desire, can it?”
Miss Mighty shouted desperately. But the witch’s expression remained icy and unyielding.
