Chapter 198 – A Revelation from the Heavens?
The countless people that had once filled the Witch’s Garden vanished in just a day, leaving only Lochter and me behind.
As I walked along the blossoming flower path, I turned back.
It was the direction Karl had disappeared.
“He's completely gone, right?”
“If you mean Karl, he's nowhere in sight.”
“Then, shall we begin?”
After confirming our surroundings, I approached a large tree nestled in the corner of the garden. Humming a tune, I started digging into the ground. Lochter watched me with a puzzled expression.
“What exactly are you doing?”
“A treasure hunt.”
“Treasure?”
“I saw Karl hiding a ‘treasure’ here. Ah, found it.”
Before long, an item wrapped in cloth emerged from the dirt. Brushing off the soil, I unwrapped the layers of fabric, revealing a weapon with a deep crimson hue.
A weapon shaped like sharp claws.
“This is…”
“The Damascus Crow.”
I grinned as I held out the crow-like weapon.
After killing the Jack and Howell brothers, Fenry kept one half, while Karl took the other as spoils of war. Before he was dragged into the Ghostly Forest, I had secretly seen him hide it here.
“Is it really okay to just take it without permission?”
“Karl will understand. There’s only one Hunt, after all.”
“I seriously doubt that…”
Ignoring Lochter’s concerns, I took the weapon and left the garden.
A dense forest stretched ahead.
As we walked alone together, Lochter voiced his curiosity.
“What do you think will happen next?”
“What do you mean?”
“Blyer.”
“Considering the destruction and the chaos we left behind, Kamel’s going to have a real headache trying to clean up the mess.”
“Why not go after Kamel directly?”
I stopped and turned to look at him. Lochter met my gaze head-on and continued.
“Lyon and Wiley were taken down. His escort forces are weaker than ever—it’s the perfect opportunity, isn’t it? I heard there's a way to track his whereabouts.”
“Yes. There is a way to locate him.”
“Then now’s the best time to eliminate Kamel. You must have thought of it too. Is staying in this forest really so important that you’re willing to throw away that chance?”
“Yes. It’s important.”
“And why is that?”
“To live long and quietly?”
I shrugged and kept walking. It wasn’t that I hadn’t considered targeting Kamel.
There was a high chance he was staying in Etor. I could pinpoint his location, and his guards were weaker than before, but rather than gambling on an immediate attack, I chose to regroup.
Because the opponent is Kamel Blazer.
If we had struck like a bolt of lightning without giving him time to prepare, it might have worked. But from the moment we set foot here, we had already given him ample time to anticipate.
A cunning man like Kamel wouldn’t fail to predict an ambush—even Lochter could think of it, after all.
No, more likely, he’s waiting for us.
Though Lyon and Wiley were neutralized, Kamel still had the Nest of Shamans.
A group of dark sorcerers centered around Rengua Field.
They were Kamel Blazer’s core force, the magic bag of tricks that turned his plans into reality.
Walking straight into a trap reinforced by Kamel’s intelligence and dark sorcery would be an incredibly dangerous and foolish move.
“So attacking first would be a disadvantage?”
“More than a disadvantage—it would be the worst possible move. Against Kamel, counterattacking is the best strategy.”
“A counterattack? That only works if you can read the enemy’s movements.”
“You understand well.”
I had a rough idea of Kamel’s movements. Though my presence had altered the story, the overall trajectory remained the same.
He'll aim for Ordor Forest.
The secret to breaking through the Ghostly Forest was a trump card more valuable than any bargaining chip for the Arcane Order.
With the situation turning against him, Kamel wouldn’t just give up on that.
All we needed to do was anticipate and prepare.
“If that’s your decision… understood.”
Since he had chosen me as the one to confront Kamel, Lochter accepted my reasoning and didn’t press the matter further.
However, he seemed curious about the strand of hair I held in my hand. The moment we stopped walking, he asked about it.
“This is a witch’s hair.”
“…A witch? Why are you giving this to me?”
“Think of it as a toll. Hold it and walk in that direction.”
Lochter alternated his gaze between me and the hair before stepping forward. Moments later, he vanished seamlessly between the trees, as if swallowed by a lie.
I smirked and followed behind him.
CLANG—
“…What is this place?”
“Amazing, isn’t it? Welcome to the Sanctuary of Witches.”
Lochter looked around in awe, inspecting the huts seamlessly blended with the forest. He tilted his head back, his gaze drawn to an enormous tree.
He murmured in astonishment, his voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s massive…”
“I bet you’ve never seen a tree this big in all your years.”
“I haven’t. Why couldn’t I see this before?”
“If you could, it wouldn’t be a sanctuary, would it? I’ll show you something even more fascinating. Follow me.”
“To where?”
“To meet your lifelong partner, I suppose?”
At my teasing words, Lochter’s expression stiffened as he stared at the strand of hair in his hand.
He seemed to be misinterpreting its meaning.
His next words were spoken with utmost seriousness.
“Is there a witch who desires me?”
“…What?”
“If that is the condition for an alliance, I will accept it for the greater good. But before that, have I mentioned that I already have a wife and daughter?”
“…Excuse me?”
“I assume they also know that I am quite old? And that I am a wanted man?”
I had no idea how he managed to arrive at such a ridiculous conclusion.
His unnecessary seriousness was exhausting.
And yet, despite the determination in his eyes, he kept listing excuses.
Shaking my head, I stopped in front of a small well and pointed downward. Lochter peered inside, his brows furrowing.
“What is this? It’s too dark to see anything.”
“This is punishment for your nonsense.”
“What?… Ugh!”
I kicked him down the well.
There was only one reason for doing so.
I had learned from my own experience yesterday that he would never go down willingly.
After all, I had been kicked down here yesterday.
By the dwarf, Dorneth.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The harsh clashing of metal echoed from afar.
Startled by the sound, Lochter quickly inspected his surroundings.
When he turned his head, he found Arthur standing beside him with a smile.
“Where is this place?”
“The Witch’s Forge.”
“…A forge?”
“The place where witches craft their enchanted tools.”
The space gradually brightened.
It was a vast underground chamber encased in earth. The sound of metal striking metal echoed from a passageway ahead.
“Let’s go.”
“Next time, give me a warning before you kick or throw me somewhere.”
“Don’t you know what a surprise is?”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re no fun. Come on, your partner is waiting. Lead the way.”
Arthur gave Lochter a light shove on the back, making him suppress a groan as he stumbled forward.
The long corridor stretched ahead, leading somewhere unknown.
Clang—! Clang—!
Lochter walked slowly, following the rough sound of hammering metal from beyond the passage.
“This is fascinating. Is it magic?”
As he walked, he observed his surroundings. Floating in the air were countless fist-sized flames, hovering and darting about as if they were alive.
Strangely, they passed through both Arthur and himself without harm.
Each time one of these flames brushed past, it seemed to whisper—some laughed, some sobbed, others screamed in anger or howled with fury.
The eerie sensation sent chills down his spine, yet the place also carried a mystical allure.
“Don’t even mention the word ‘magic’ in front of witches. Unless you want to end up as one of those flames.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
A gentle breeze brushed against his face.
Each time the warm wind caressed his body, he felt a peculiar tremor in his chest, as if unseen hands were slowly trailing over his face, chest, and thighs—tempting him.
Just as he began to feel a strange sense of excitement, Arthur’s warning came.
“Stay sharp. It’s not you they’re calling—it’s the flames.”
“What is this wind?”
“It’s the essence of the Witch’s Flame.”
“The Witch’s Flame?”
“These flames are lost souls, most of them filled with deep resentment. The reason they gather here is because of that flame.”
Arthur pointed ahead, drawing Lochter’s attention to the space beyond the corridor.
Clang— Clang—
Between the shadows, violet flames flickered and vanished repeatedly.
The moment he stepped out of the passage, a vast open chamber revealed itself.
At its center was a small forge, where a dwarf was hammering away at something laid atop the fire.
The hammering that had echoed through the tunnel came from this very spot.
Clang—!
Now the metallic clang was so loud it seemed to vibrate through his skin.
“He was in that exact position yesterday. Don’t tell me he’s been hammering all night?”
“You were here before?”
“Yes. Master Dorneth said the preparations were complete, so I requested the work to begin.”
“Dorneth? …You mean the ruler of Beneta?”
“That’s right.”
“Why didn’t you mention this earlier?”
“He told me not to reveal his presence to uninvited guests.”
Dorneth seemed entirely unaware of their arrival, completely absorbed in his hammering.
The forge blazed fiercely, and atop it was a crimson metal rod, glowing with a faint violet hue as it was struck.
The Witch’s Flame.
The fire within the forge burned an unusual shade of purple.
Recognizing the importance of the work, they chose to wait until Dorneth finished.
After a while, the hammering ceased, and Dorneth carefully lifted the red-hot metal with a pair of tongs.
As the metal left the forge, the violet flames flared upward, spreading an intense energy throughout the chamber.
The once gentle breeze suddenly whipped into a violent gust—
Kiaaaaah—!
“Guh…!”
The floating flames rushed toward the forge in a frenzy.
More flames poured through the surrounding rock walls, as if summoned, turning the scene into a meteor shower of ghostly fire.
It was like watching thousands of moths hurling themselves into a blazing inferno.
The flames vanished, consumed entirely by the violet blaze.
Lochter turned to Arthur, his face filled with wonder.
“What’s happening?”
“The witches call it ‘rest.’”
“Rest?”
“They say this process grants lost souls a path to peace. Instead of wandering eternally as vengeful spirits, they are given a chance to forget everything and start anew—it’s the witches’ way of showing mercy.”
“Can the dead truly start anew?”
“No idea. Never died before.”
I wasn’t sure if the concept of ‘reincarnation’ even applied in this world.
The only thing I knew for sure was that the Witch’s Flame had the power to reshape ancient metal—specifically, Damascus steel.
That was all the information I had gathered.
“Why are you here already? I told you to come tomorrow.”
Dorneth, who had been examining the metal with satisfaction, finally noticed them and furrowed his brows.
“It’s already been a day.”
“Time passed that quickly?”
“As expected of a great master. I’m in awe of your focus, Master Dorneth.”
At my flattery, Dorneth chuckled and stretched his back.
His attire was unmistakably that of a blacksmith.
He proudly wore the signature white hat that only master artisans possessed—though, to me, it just looked like a baker’s hat.
Dorneth grinned and placed a simple rod in front of me.
A crimson rod.
It seemed he had successfully reshaped the Damascus metal I had obtained from Fenry.
“You were doubtful at first, but you pulled it off.”
“My pride wouldn’t let me fail. Damn stubborn metal.”
His gaze shifted to the Damascus Crow in my hand, and he nodded.
“I was worried about not having enough material, but with that piece, it should be just right. I can forge anything now.”
“Will it take another full day?”
“No. Now that I’ve done it once, half a day should be enough. The real question is—what kind of weapon do you want? The more complex, the longer it’ll take. What form do the witches want?”
“A sword.”
“A sword?”
Instead of answering further, I stepped aside and pushed Lochter forward.
“This man will be the owner of that sword.”
“…A human? The witches gave this precious metal to a human?”
“Do you know what Damascus means in the ancient tongue?”
“‘Indomitable Will.’ Are you testing me?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I handed Dorneth a piece of paper.
It was something I had written myself, though I claimed it was from the witches—a document listing Lochter’s Divine Name.
“…Hmph.”
The moment Dorneth read the phrase ‘Indomitable Will’, his expression changed.
I leaned in, lowering my voice as if revealing an earth-shattering secret.
“When the Damascus metal appeared, a man with the exact Divine Name written in the ancient language appeared before the witches.”
“…You’re kidding.”
“The witches believe this man is the rightful owner of the metal.”
“…Destiny, then.”
“Yes. Destiny. Just as it is fate that you, Master Dorneth, are in the Witch’s Forge. Just as it is fate that you are the only dwarf capable of forging this metal.”
“A revelation from the heavens…”
“Exactly.”
I glanced at Lochter and subtly signaled him.
“…What am I supposed to do?”
“Just go along with it.”
I gestured toward Dorneth.
The dwarf stood there with his eyes closed, savoring the so-called ‘divine revelation.’