Chapter 20:

The Witch that Glimpsed 'Inferno'

Why Kill? When Witches Can Be Tentacled!

A young lady dashed through the forest, cackling like a madwoman as a large group of magicians and soldiers followed her through the thickets. At a glance, the joyous expression on her face seemed to imply a riveting time, but that was quite strange compared to the situation she was in.

The men slung various magic spells toward her and shot magic-imbued arrows, which whizzed dangerously close to her long, black hair and graceful form. A book-shaped charm dangling upon a chain was clipped at the end of her ponytail. Despite the danger, she merely smirked and kicked up a fierce wind, repelling all attacks that approached.

The girl, Seraphina, was merely a commoner who wore a seductive outfit that purposefully teased the eyes of men. The skimpy, loose clothing showed off her assets well, and it gave her the advantage in dealing with any normal man, even those that threatened to kill her.

As she was in the Kingdom of Roswalia, the wind she kicked up was one of the reasons why the men pursued. She possessed wind magic, and a high proficiency in it too. So much so that the men felt shameful that an untamed magician girl could easily deflect the attacks of properly trained men in the sacred craft of magic.

However, they were well aware of her skills. After all, she was a Witch. Not one of those females that merely possessed magic that they accused of being one. But an actual Witch with a confirmed grimoire. Left alone, Seraphina possessed powers that were as dangerous as the Witch in the past that nearly destroyed their kingdom.

“My, my, boys. You’ve certainly got me surrounded. Shall I take you all one-by-one? Or would you prefer to have a go at me all at once?” She licked one of her fingers seductively to tease them. That was simply her personality. A flirt who couldn’t help but belittle the men in front of her.

“Give her everything you have!” The men charged forward, swords and magic chambered, to bombard Seraphina from all directions.

However, there was a good reason for her cockiness. She hadn’t survived this long for nothing. Seraphina let out a crazed laugh as she raised her arms, beckoning for the attacks to come. As it looked like they were about to hit her, a fierce gust of wind slammed downward all around her.

Bushes were crushed, branches snapped and slammed into the ground, and even, entire tree trunks cracked down the middle and split in half. The men, of course, were pressed into the dirt, as if a child had partially buried their dolls in the sand.

Seraphina’s proficiency was quite high, forged in the constant turmoil of battles. That was probably why she had been chosen as a possessor for her grimoire. The Demon Lord probably likes his women strong and ruthless, is what Seraphina thought as to why she was a Witch. During the world’s Dark Ages, it was believed that the Demon Lord possessed a harem of near unstoppable magic users.

Equipped with such power spread among his close circle, it was no wonder that those who possessed a grimoire were to be feared. But that didn’t make her feel pity for her victims. She had a personal vendetta against them.

Yes, victims. That is exactly what I think of them. Mere prey to be devoured.

As the spell died down, Seraphina looked around at the damage. The forest where she stood was no longer recognizable. A large circle, roughly twenty meters all around her, had been obliterated by a tremendous pressure brought on by collecting air into a very small area and forcing it downward suddenly. The only exception to the damage was the small patch of ground around Seraphina’s feet, where she had created a cyclone that counteracted the air pressure.

“Oh my, it does seem like there are signs of life still. How wonderful. I have a few toys to play with. They’ll have wished that they died instantly instead.” Seraphina frolicked over to the closest twitching body and proceeded to pull the man out.

Not long afterward, she had gathered the ones that still drew breath. Many of them had broken limbs that hindered movement or had armor that was digging painfully into their bodies. The injuries to them made it difficult for anyone to raise a sword or cast a spell in resistance. Those that tried to were suddenly met with a razor wind that hacked off the appendage raised in defiance.

Seraphina sat upon a tree trunk that had been freshly uprooted by her previous magic. This would be suitable for a temporary throne. Staring out at the men prostrated on the ground in pain and suffering, it was like she was a queen, glaring upon her miserable subjects.

And as a queen, it was up to her to demonstrate her absolute powers. She reached back and touched the charm that bunched up her hair, feeling it transform in front of her. The awakened grimoire hovered before her, pages flipping by themselves as if Seraphina willed for it to happen.

Slowly, she turned to the downed men, picking through them with scrutiny based on her tastes. When she finally decided, two chosen ones were lifted up by a jet of air and tossed together in a pile.

“And let’s see, you and you… And these two together… perfect!”

Eventually, the men had been divided into pairs. The entire time, their eyes were unable to tear away from Seraphina, dreading what Witch powers she would use on them. However, they couldn’t turn away even if they wanted to. There was an attractive force that prevented them from looking elsewhere as long as Seraphina stayed in their vision. It forced their eyes to follow her every movement as the grimoire in her hands menacingly glowed with dark energy.

That was, of course, the curse Seraphina possessed as the owner of the Grimoire of Lust. Every male in her vicinity would have no choice but to scour every inch of her body with their eyes. Their gazes helplessly followed her fingertips stroking the binding of her grimoire as her lips curled into a devious smile. But as for Seraphina herself, she couldn’t stand the touch of any male. The men’s attraction was a mere nuisance that would cause her to break down in tears if they so much as held her.

For that reason, she didn’t allow any of them to approach her. An invisible wall of razor wind was ever present, like thorns on a rose. She teased them, she seduced them, but never did she let them be in control. She would be the one that approached them, knowing full well that they would perish upon her arrival.

They were her outlets for frustration, that of being a Witch in this cruel world and for all the discrimination that women like her faced, merely for possessing magic.

Seraphina giggled as she knew what to do next. It was her favorite pastime – torture, humiliation, and immorality. Her hands stopped at a certain page, and she started chanting a spell.

He who possesses earthly desires, let the dark one touch upon thy loins.”

“Desires of the body, desires of the mind, I force upon thee urges of myne own making.”

“With hearts of two connected as one, I unleash thee from thy own restrictions.”


As that last word escaped from Seraphina’s lips, the two men she gazed directly at were instantly enveloped with dark energies. For the first time since they caught sight of the Witch, their eyes left her body and turned straight toward the gazes of each other.

Despite the look of utter horror that each man possessed, they couldn’t tear themselves away from the chosen partner that Seraphina had picked for them. Eyes flittered across masculine jawlines, prickly scruff, and dry, cracked lips. Feelings sprung from where nothing was, overwriting their normal preferences. At once, their bodies ignored the pain of their injuries, lips moving forward with a hunger that could only be quenched from close contact.

Seraphina cackled as the two men went at it like wild beasts in heat, or perhaps, more like rodents that ignored all other impulses when aroused. The unavoidable pain of shifting broken bones and tearing gushing wounds was ignored. The utter repulsiveness of their very acts between males was ignored. With bitter tears in their eyes, which told them that they still held a shred of sanity, the two men provided Seraphina with a twisted form of entertainment.

Seeing this scene, the look of Seraphina as she turned to the next pair was nothing less than the devil himself. And not long after, Seraphina had done the same to all of them. Amidst the groans of pain and pleasure, she went back to her throne and basked in the degenerate punishment of her victims. She couldn’t help but find a perverse sense of revenge from this.

Seraphina had not always been this way, enjoying the torment of people in questionable situations. But time had changed her. Seeing the people she loved being subjected to unspeakable horrors had warped her heart. She wished for nothing more than to see these devout followers of the Roswalian crown be treated the same way as her family had been.

Flashes of those memories trickled into her mind. Her parents, her sisters, her friends – all detained under the premise of harboring a potential Witch. All because she accidentally sneezed and ruffled some guard’s tunic with a slight breeze. An innocent mistake, caused by a child hiding her budding powers.

Where was the mercy when they slew her parents and neighbors? Where was the decency when they passed around her sisters and friends like drugged whores in a brothel? The broken bodies of loved ones flooded her vision and caused her young mind to curse the very existence of this world.

And it was at that moment, a grimoire appeared before her. Hope drained like the blood that had flowed out from the dead bodies in front of her; there was no ounce of hesitancy in reaching forward, as she needed something else to cling upon this life.

The Grimoire of Lust gave her the very powers she needed – to take revenge, to vanquish the unjust, and to show the world that she was not to be messed with.

“Lay with the very same pigs that you are!” she screamed after casting Fornicatio for the first time.

And with that, the people that had destroyed her life were now in the pigpens, pounding against the swine while squealing like them. The neighbors that had turned her in to save their own skin and the people who abandoned them without so much as a thought – they were next on her list.

By the end of the day, her hometown had devolved into absolute chaos, and Seraphina, she couldn’t stop laughing. Her howls of laughter drowned out the disturbing noises all around her. They filled in for the emptiness that she felt from losing everything. And they made her realize.

This was a broken world.

A world where the laws had become perverted. Where people had become their own demons. That being merciful would amount to nothing.

The only thing she could do was to salvage what little good there was in this world, while ridding the rest as the scum they were. She had to be the one to do it, as she had been chosen as a Witch to stand up to a kingdom fearing them.

Those bitter memories caused Seraphina to bite her thumb in anger. Bringing her arm down, razor blades of wind shredded a pair of men into a bloody mess. Still unsatisfied, her arms continued to conduct a symphony of death. Finally, she had grown sick of the charade that she put together. She couldn’t be bothered to keep toys around.

The only sounds left were that of her own gasps in an attempt to calm herself down. But then, what appeared to be faint noises in the distance pricked at her ears.

That’s strange… more fighting? And magic, plenty of it too. Could it be?...

Seraphina could pick up the clamor of spells hitting back and forth, not only a one-sided assault. Her legs moved before her mind could even think of what to do. Given that there were exchanges of magic, her body instinctively knew what goal to chase after next.

Someone fighting back meant that they were chasing after a girl possessing magic. And that was the one thing that stirred her cold, dead heart.

For she was known as Seraphina, the Witch of Orphans. She was the one person who dared to overthrow the Kingdom of Roswalia and take back the prisoners they kept. And all those she saved were welcomed to the settlement she created, the hidden village of Salutis – the sole bastion of protection for those deemed as Witches.

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