CHAPTER 129: MEL AND NYREL

Silence hung in the air, as Nyrel spread her arms with her eyes closed in peace.

Then... nothing happened. No raging snows of sorrow; no ice sharpened with edged bloodlust.

Confused, Nyrel’s eyes reopened, slow and hesitant.

Until she was only greeted with Mel’s disgusted glare.

Yet that disgusted glare narrowed, as the Witch tilted her head.

Then Nyrel remembered; no, she was forced to remember.

Her Master, Pride, was the kindest Master she knew.

Yet when she first suggested raising the fallen enemies as Undeads, her Master’s smile always came unprompted.

But she later realised it was not anger.

It was disappointment, just like Mel’s smiley eyes now.

"Have I told you," Mel spoke, her voice graceful yet carrying a strange authority. "What a world for a witch looks like?"

Her hand stretched to tap a snowflake; a gentle gesture for her lover’s magic, and the burden Lila had to carry from now on.

"Hunted and hated by the World aside, their perception was all stretched beyond a human’s limit."

With thumb brushing the snow on her fingers, a tenderness crossed her expression.

"For Liora the Sloth, it was a never-ending boredom with her Prophecy Magic, always destined to fulfill predictable chores with her ability taken advantage of."

A sigh escaped her as her hand slouched to the side.

"For my Lila, her five senses were strengthened by her endless mana, forever cursed to see and hear every scenery and sound in the World."

She kneeled, as Nyrel widened her eyes.

Mel’s expression was blank, for an otherwise cheerful girl who loved to dote on her lovers.

"For me, well..."

She chuckled.

"I can hear every soul’s cry echoing beneath my heartbeat, from the tiniest drop of water, to the fear of a rabbit running away from a wolf."

The initial didn’t scar deep in Mel’s soul, yet her sympathy only grew for the Witches who endured this test of their Worlds overturned by their Sins.

"But my instinct to ’hear’ everything was suppressed, all thanks to how I have a wonderful Partner."

The blank face returned to a ’kind’ smile.

"So you have to tell me now, Nyrel."

Her left hand stretched out, cupping the Necromage’s wrist.

Even with the maid strapping both her arms, the one who defeated her strongest summon in the second...

Nyrel must admit the palm smoothing over her pulse was infinitely more terrifying.

"What were you planning earlier?"

As Mel’s murmur slithered into her mind, her head hung in a desperate bid.

All her schemes, devoured in the shadow under the Witch’s violet hat.

"I... I was planning to have a dignified end."

Her lips paused; every reason hammered into her head like excuses.

"So I was present here myself, preparing for my last ever fight."

Nyrel shook as Mel’s grasp over her pulse firmed slightly, a bidding for her to continue.

"As a minion spawned from Pride, I thought I deserved as much, maybe taking a Witch’s life as a tribute for my Sealed Master..."

[ ... ]

The panel flickered at the corner of Mel’s vision; a wordless disappointment.

"Dignified?"

Mel’s voice trembled, as she let go of Nyrel’s wrist.

Then, her nail scraped against the Necromage’s neck, as a shaded anger painted over her golden eyes.

"What dignified end are you speaking of?"

The Necromage’s lips pursed, twitching against the nail scratching down her skin.

No pain, just a tickly tease of utter pressure.

"Say it, Nyrel."

Mel’s smile widened.

"I can’t hear your soul with my instinct suppressed, you hear?"

That whisper, so gentle Nyrel could’ve mistaken as her Master’s, made her skin crawl, and an answer was forced out of her.

"I was trying to... anger Envy."

The necromage gritted her teeth, glanced at Mel’s cold demeanour, then continued.

"I knew she was listening, so I tried to cause her to go berserk."

An arrogance dared to slip into her tone, subtly raising a brow from Mel’s.

"Because I was Master’s first ever summon, I have witnessed her First Awakening."

Unable to bear her glare, Nyrel shut her eyes tight.

"That time... she was also extremely confused, a literal child that was handed too much power over time, and she has strayed to madness."

Then, as if she borrowed strengths from the memory of her Master’s childhood, her gaze snapped up against Mel’s.

"So it was only natural."

Her sole ruby eye was shivering, her throat no longer tightened against Mel’s nail.

"That I attempted the same on Envy, a strategy that would have brought me and my comrades time to recover our Master!"

Mel’s eyes squinted, the resolve glimmering in that ruby eye too bright for a villain like Nyrel’s.

She almost could’ve conjured a respect for her, as a Pride’s minion should have deserved.

"But your vile tactic earned nothing but a failure, Nyrel."

Even as Nyrel’s resolve broke with a single declaration from her, Mel didn’t stop.

Her grudge against the Necromage has started too long; that respect was too late to be built from nothing.

"Tell me, Necromage."

Degrading her without even the name her Master gave unto her, Mel groaned.

"Have you ever found joy in sacrificing all your pawns and the innocent for your schemes?"

Nyrel froze, a visible indicator of guilt.

Not guilty for harming the innocents, no. But guilt against her Master’s order to protect those not directly involved in the war.

"I... we three have discussed it."

She gritted her teeth. "There is no winning the White Demon without dirty tactics, no sacrifices too great against the coming threats that are the Witches."

"Yet so far, every plan of yours has been met with a catastrophic failure, am I wrong?"

Mel’s voice was laced with a cruel tenderness, as her nail left Nyrel’s neck and tugged her chin.

Their gazes locked together, as her eyes smiled again.

"I’m not here to argue morals, I’m just stating a fact."

Then, her lips finally died down to a frown.

"Nyrel, as long as I am here."

She glared, a resolve burning in her golden eyes against the moonlight.

"Every hour, minute, and second, you will pray that your soul will never shudder in fear."

The Witch drew closer, enveloping the scared Nyrel in all her bloodlust.

"Because I could always sing you a song worse than death."

Nyrel hissed, her tolerance against a Witch’s immense pressure chipped away completely.

Then, a belated realisation stormed into her.

Why did Mel never mind-control her or her minions in the fight?

It should’ve been easy; a mere chant, with the caliber of her Power, should be more than enough.

Sing you a song... worse than death...

"Have you been..."

Nyrel bit into her lips, blood threatening to drip out.

"Have you been holding back your hatred, fearing lashing out?"

The Necromage had assumed that Mel knew her every move, that Mel could only let down her guard to the very end.

So the whole time, was Mel always-

"You’re wrong."

Yet, the Witch of Lust immediately denied with a softened gaze.

The Silence barrier she cast earlier was still in effect, protecting them against Lila’s hearing.

As much as she wished to slap Nyrel to vent, Mel chuckled with mischievousness.

So with a smile tinged with a slight warmth, she uttered.

"I just want to look cool in front of my lover."

The snow breeze howled, indifferent to their conversation.

As it grazed the necromage’s skull cheek, her jaw was parted open for a gasp.

Ridiculous.

All that power. All the lost efficiency. Just to look cool for her lover?

Seething against Nyrel, Mel clicked her tongue as she shifted back, her look slightly relaxed.

"Aw..." She moaned in regret. "Now that you entertain my thought a little, I feel a little more lenient today."

So, her eyes sharpened as they were fixed onto her maid, then back to Nyrel, stubborn about how she couldn’t leave the dirtiest work to her cute summons.

So, how should she torture this Necromage? For her Lila?

A simple chant to completely and utterly wipe out her memory would’ve been fine.

Or another to simply make her forget her Master, her reason for living.

Her favourability with Pride would plummet, but Lust couldn’t care.

In her eyes was only a petty schemer that dared harm her Lila’s sister.

And she must exact revenge at all costs.

Mel’s anger arose again at her justification, and as she readied for a chant to instead ’sweep’ her soul clean-

A tap on her shoulder reeled back the magic, a simple command that almost left at the tip of her tongue.

"That’s enough, Mel."

Maria’s voice, her Partner’s voice... soothed Mel to the core.

She glanced behind, meeting the Saintess’s tender gaze that matched hers.

So, Mel smiled again.

This time of genuine goodwill, untainted by even a sign of anger.

Nyrel didn’t know; just now, Maria has not only saved her, but also her comrade’s future fate.

Had it not been for the ’White Demon’ she cursed, it would not only be mere disasters descending upon Pride and her minions.