The ruins of the Granitnuo Forest have witnessed far too many screams in the past year.
For exactly 365 days, Tunzuo felt like a piece of iron being ground down on a whetstone; her soul, which only desired to be a lazy slacker, was forced to develop sharp edges by Antuoxi’s extreme “cake and slap” method of education.
Today, though Tunzuo still wore an expression of sleepy exhaustion as if ready to collapse at any moment, the vast, river-like magic circuits within her body had solidified completely.
Her control over shadows had reached a point where she could command them at will, weaving complex geometric mazes in an instant or using a shadow needle to pierce the wing of a fly a kilometer away with absolute precision.
“Huff… huff…”
Tunzuo leaned on a staff formed from condensed shadows, panting heavily.
The gothic dress she wore was somewhat tattered, a souvenir from her battle against the hellhound yesterday.
“Mommy, I think I’ve graduated.”
Tunzuo looked up, her dark green eyes filled with a glimmer of hope and exhaustion.
“Really, I think I’m strong enough now. My magic is sufficient, and the shadows are obedient. Can you let me go to sleep now? Even if it’s just for a year or two…”
Antuoxi sat on a broken wall not far away, holding a thick “Witch Training Log” and scribbling something in it.
Hearing Tunzuo’s words, she stopped writing, looked up, and displayed a meaningful smile on her beautiful face.
“Oh? You’ve graduated?”
Antuoxi closed the log and tossed it aside carelessly.
“Magic control is acceptable, the speed of your spell model construction is barely passing, and your shadow play is quite flashy. As my daughter, your magical talent truly hasn’t let me down.”
“That’s true, that’s true, it’s all thanks to your teaching, Mommy.”
Tunzuo scrambled to agree, attempting to use flattery to earn a long-term sleeping permit.
“However—”
Antuoxi’s tone shifted, suddenly becoming somewhat… peculiar.
“Magic is only one part of being a witch. A true witch must be omnipotent.”
“Omnipotent? How much more omnipotent can I get…”
Tunzuo’s heart sank, and a sense of ominous foreboding arose within her.
“Magic is the elegance of long-range combat, but slaughter often begins at close quarters.”
Antuoxi stood up.
As her will shifted, her complex and magnificent gothic dress instantly dissipated into specks of starlight, replaced by a form-fitting combat outfit.
Black slim-fit trousers perfectly outlined her breathtaking curves, possessing both strength and a witch’s enchanting allure.
She gripped the empty air with her right hand, and a cold, glistening Western Rapier appeared in her palm.
The long, slender blade featured intricate thorn patterns carved into the hilt.
Antuoxi raised her hand, the tip of the blade pointing straight at the sky, exuding a chilling, sharp aura.
“I am Antuoxi Otilis, a legendary witch, the Marshal of the Great Witch Crusade, the witch who tore through the universe with pure force, and the strongest champion of nine consecutive Witch Duels.”
Antuoxi performed a graceful sword flourish, the blade carving a sharp, piercing arc through the air.
“Tunzuo, now I will teach you the final lesson: physical arts and melee combat!”
Antuoxi waved her left hand, and an identical Western Rapier appeared out of thin air, clanging as it stabbed into the rubble at Tunzuo’s feet.
“Pick up your sword.”
Antuoxi said coolly.
“Huh? Physical arts? Melee? With a sword?”
Tunzuo looked at the shimmering, icy rapier, feeling her peaceful life drifting away from her.
“Mommy, I’m a ghost witch; I’m a mage! How can a mage use a sword to hack at people? That isn’t scientific, nor is it magical…”
“In my classroom, what I say is science, and my will is magic!”
The playful smile on Antuoxi’s face vanished, replaced by absolute authority.
“Pick it up, or I will help you—by using your ribs as a sword hilt.”
Tunzuo shrank back.
Though she was reluctant with every fiber of her being, the memory of the blood and tears shed over the past year forced her to obediently reach out and grip the cold rapier.
The sword was heavy, though not quite an obstacle for the current Tunzuo, but the icy touch of the metal made her instincts scream in defiance.
“Raise your sword.”
Antuoxi assumed a standard dueling stance, her body slightly turned, her long sword extended like a viper.
“I… I don’t know how…”
Tunzuo clumsily mimicked Antuoxi’s movements, looking like a penguin holding a fire poker.
“Then watch my movements closely.”
Antuoxi’s figure flowed like running water.
Fast.
So fast that Tunzuo couldn’t even track her movements.
Tunzuo felt a blur before her eyes, followed immediately by a sharp pain in her chest.
Rip—
Tunzuo’s collar was slashed open, leaving a shallow scratch across her collarbone.
“The first strike is to wake you up.”
Antuoxi’s voice whispered in her ear.
Before Tunzuo could react, another thrust came.
“The second strike is to teach you how to parry.”
Clang!
Tunzuo reflexively raised her sword to block, but the immense force left her hand numb, and the sword nearly flew from her grasp.
“Too slow! Too soft! Is your sword meant for cutting cake?!”
Antuoxi’s scolding followed the continuous rain of blade light.
The next hour was, for Tunzuo, hell within hell.
Antuoxi’s swordplay was elegant yet lethal.
Each strike aimed for vital points but cleverly avoided causing fatal wounds, leaving behind only pain and humiliation.
A layer of anti-spirit magic was imbued on Antuoxi’s blade; every hit made Tunzuo feel a heart-wrenching, agonizing pain.
Her gothic dress was shredded, and her pale skin was covered in fine sword marks.
While not deep, the sensation of her soul being cut by a blade was absolute.
“Counter-attack! Are you dead?!”
“Use your shadows for support! Infuse your magic into the sword!”
“Is this the result of your year of study? You aren’t even as good as a slime!”
Tunzuo rolled and dodged wretchedly among the ruins.
The rapier in her hand had become her greatest burden.
She attempted to bind Antuoxi with her shadows, but Antuoxi moved like a phantom through the blade light, and the shadows could not catch her.
Smack!
Antuoxi struck Tunzuo’s wrist hard with her hilt.
Tunzuo cried out in pain, and the rapier clattered to the ground.
“Pick it up.”
Antuoxi said coldly.
Tunzuo panted and looked at the sword on the ground, then at her own bruised body, tears welling up in her eyes.
“I… I won’t pick it up…”
Tunzuo’s voice trembled with a sob.
“I’m tired. I’m really tired… I don’t want to practice swordsmanship, I just want to sleep…”
“Pick it up!”
Antuoxi’s voice rose an octave.
“No! I won’t! I’m not practicing anymore! You’re a bad mommy! You just want to torture me! You don’t love me at all!”
Tunzuo’s pent-up emotions finally exploded.
She sat on the ground, curled into a ball with her hands hugging her knees, burying her head deep into her arms like a terrified ostrich.
“Waaaah… it hurts… my whole body hurts… I don’t want to be a witch anymore. I want to go home… I want to go back to the Blue Star and be a slacker… I want to die…”
The ruins descended into deathly silence, with only Tunzuo’s stifled sobbing echoing in the air.
Antuoxi stood in place with her rapier lowered.
The expression on her face shifted unpredictably.
She looked at the huddled, wounded daughter, a complex emotion flickering in her eyes, as if she were seeing that solitary shadow from long ago.
After a long silence, Antuoxi sighed.
The rapier in her hand dissipated into light, and she walked slowly toward Tunzuo with elegant footsteps.
Tunzuo sensed someone approaching and her body instinctively flinched, expecting another blow.
“Waaaah… don’t hit me… please don’t hit me…”
However, the expected pain did not arrive.
Instead, Tunzuo felt a pair of warm hands gently resting on her shoulders.
Antuoxi knelt, bringing her gaze level with Tunzuo’s.
She reached out and softly wiped the tears and grime from Tunzuo’s face, her movements as gentle as if she were polishing a priceless treasure.
“Does it hurt?”
Antuoxi’s voice was no longer harsh or playful, but filled with an unprecedented tenderness, like a spring breeze blowing through the ruins.
Tunzuo was stunned.
She looked up at Antuoxi with tear-filled eyes.
This was the first time Tunzuo had seen such an expression from Antuoxi—no haughty arrogance, no wicked smirk of a successful prank, only a… maternal pity.
“It should hurt.”
Antuoxi said softly, her fingers gently brushing over the sword mark on Tunzuo’s collarbone.
“Because you are a witch. The path of a witch is never paved with flowers. If you want to sleep soundly in this cruel universe, you must learn to endure pain and learn to counter-attack within that pain.”
“But… but I’m really so tired…”
Tunzuo sobbed, her voice as soft and fragile as a kitten’s.
“I know you are tired.”
Antuoxi pulled Tunzuo into her arms, patting her back gently as one would a child who had suffered great injustice.
“Tunzuo, my sweet daughter, although you are slow and lack fighting spirit like a slacker, you haven’t skipped a single task I set this year. You didn’t run away. Your hard work and everything you’ve given—I’ve seen it all.”
“But the battle is not over. As long as you are alive, as long as magic flows through your body, and as long as you still have things you want to strive for, the battle will never end.”
Antuoxi released Tunzuo and cupped her face.
Her deep, dark eyes reflected Tunzuo’s disheveled state.
“Stand up, Tunzuo.”
Antuoxi’s voice was gentle yet carried an unquestionable strength.
“Pick up your sword! Not for me, but for yourself! For your dream of wanting to sleep well!”
“If you cannot even hold a sword, how will you enjoy the rest you deserve in this world where the strong prey upon the weak!”
“Or, are you content to be a coward, letting your second chance at life rot in the mud just like the one before?”
Antuoxi’s words were like a giant axe, chopping heavily against the long-closed doors of Tunzuo’s heart.
The suffocating life, the yelling of superiors, the dark and damp atmosphere of the rented room—everything from her past life wrapped around Tunzuo’s throat like a viper, stifling her.
‘No, I don’t want that. I don’t want to live that kind of life ever again!’
Just then, Tunzuo’s fingers touched the discarded rapier on the ground.
The cold metal sensation rushed through her.
“I…”
A whimper escaped Tunzuo’s throat.
“I won’t accept it…”
Tunzuo suddenly lifted her head.
The tears were gone from her deep green eyes, replaced by a kind of frenzied, chaotic obsession.
She didn’t want to hear Antuoxi’s scolding; she didn’t want to be called a coward, and she certainly didn’t want to abandon everything she had worked so hard to achieve.
She would counter-attack, even if it were wrong, even if it were despicable, even if…
Tunzuo did not stand up.
She remained on her knees like a lowly crawler, but she suddenly thrust her hands out to clutch the hilt of the rapier.
Without any stance, she used all the strength in her body and, with an hysterical, collapsing outburst, stabbed the sword fiercely at the Antuoxi in front of her.
The attack was without form, without beauty, and could even be called ugly to the extreme.
It was like a drowning person clutching for the last straw, or a wounded beast making a final death struggle.
Antuoxi did not dodge, or rather, she didn’t need to.
Antuoxi simply crouched there, watching Tunzuo’s hysterical, emotionally broken attack.
Thwip.
Tunzuo fell to the ground because of the strike.
The angle and power were flawed, but the blade grazed the back of Antuoxi’s hand, leaving a barely visible wound on her skin from which beads of blood began to seep.
The ruins descended into deathly silence once more.
Tunzuo stared at the sword with which she had struck Antuoxi, her entire body rigid.
She… had she struck her? Had she actually struck Antuoxi using such a despicable, ugly, and undignified method?
Tunzuo looked up, her eyes filled with terror and confusion.
She didn’t know what kind of punishment awaited her—would she be kicked away? Or scolded even more severely?
But Antuoxi was not angry.
She lowered her head to look at Tunzuo, who lay before her clutching the sword, and the smile on her beautiful face grew even more tender.
“See? You are capable of striking me, aren’t you? By any means necessary—there is no morality in battle. Under the shadow of negligence, even one as strong as I can bleed, can’t I?”
Antuoxi helped the fallen Tunzuo up.
She held Tunzuo’s face, reached out, and wiped the blood that had flowed from the wound, still warm with her body temperature, into Tunzuo’s mouth.
“Ugh…”
Tunzuo’s eyes widened.
A flavor ofè…¥ (blood) mixed with the aura of magic instantly filled her mouth.
This taste flowed through her throat and throughout her body, replenishing the magic that had been exhausted by overwork, and the pain in her body seemed to be soothed by the scent of the blood.
“Remember this taste, Tunzuo. This is your mother’s blood; this is the blood of a Supreme Witch; this is the first blood you have caused to flow after drawing your blade.”
Antuoxi stared into Tunzuo’s dark green pupils, her own eyes shining with a fanatical light.
“This is the taste of a victor, and the taste of the strong.”
As Antuoxi’s words faded, the confusion in Tunzuo’s eyes gradually dissipated, replaced by an unprecedented clarity and firmness.
‘That’s right, I can do it. Even a slacker can make a Supreme Witch bleed under her sword. I can fight for everything I want. The rest I desire lies in my own hands, provided I have enough strength.’
Tunzuo gripped the hilt with both hands and used the rapier to support herself as she stood up.
She looked up at Antuoxi, a weak yet determined smile curling her lips.
“I understand… Mother.”
Tunzuo’s voice was hoarse, but it carried a new, burgeoning strength.
“Everything I want is held within my own hands.”
Antuoxi nodded in satisfaction.
She stood up and generated a new rapier.
“Very good. Lesson continues!”
“This time, I will teach you seriously—how to utilize all terrain, all postures, and even how to use an enemy’s emotions to secure victory.”
Tunzuo gripped her sword.
This time, there was no hesitation.
She tremblingly raised her hand, aiming the tip of her blade directly at Antuoxi.
“Yes, Mommy, I will learn well!”
In the ruins, the light of blades flashed once more.
Steel clashed against steel, and sparks scattered everywhere.
That day, the blood belonging to a witch boiled in Tunzuo’s veins for the very first time.