Miss Witch Doesn’t Want to Become a Songstress

The castle was unusually quiet at night. Hestia sat by the table beneath the window, listening to the song and the piano played by Ranbell. A faint sense of daze washed over her, as though, from the music, she could vaguely glimpse scenes from the past.

However, those scenes remained blurry, not as vivid as the marks left by the two legendary songstresses in time. She could only faintly sense the nostalgia and sorrow conveyed in the song.

After a long while, the song ended, and Ranbell came to sit before Hestia. At this moment, she wore light clothing, and her previously pinkish eyes glowed with a magnificent red hue in the dim candlelight.

“Thilan truly understands my song,” Ranbell said with a slight blink of her eyes, before the red in her gaze faded, returning to its usual soft pink shade.

“I understand a little, but not fully,” the young girl shook her head. She could tell that Ranbell’s bloodline was unusual—it was definitely not an ordinary human subspecies.

“It’s better not to fully understand, knowing too much brings many burdens.” Ranbell took a glass of wine from the table, pouring a fragrant and rich drink into it before taking a sip.

“How wonderful it is, to meet someone like you again, Thilan,” she murmured absentmindedly.

“Why do you say that?” the girl tilted her head slightly.

“Because it’s so boring,” Ranbell replied with a mysterious smile. “I’ve met many people, and most live in a fog, dull and ordinary, like countless others. But you, Thilan, are different. When thousands of people are on their knees in the dirt and cracks, looking for food, one suddenly stands, so noticeable, so special.”

“I have a peculiar feeling—you will change many things, to the point where I’m starting to waver, wondering if I should form a bond with you.”

“In fact, you must sense it too—our family is quite special. Although I look only sixteen or seventeen, that’s merely a facade.”

“If you had looked into the events of the First Epoch, you would know about humanity’s first empire—the Crimson Empire. Though it fell, many descendants still carry its legacy.”

“The most prominent branch founded the Pale Moon Kingdom in the Third Epoch, which later became the Verdant Empire.”

“But there are also less prominent branches, hidden and passed down in secrecy.”

After finishing her wine, Ranbell stood, her figure and dress swirling gently in the room. Tiny crimson light points appeared, and her pale pink nails glowed with a vivid red, leaving lingering traces in the air.

Stepping into the shadowed corner of the room, Ranbell turned and gazed at Hestia. Her eyes shone like rubies in the night, clear and beautiful.

“And I am part of one of those branches, carrying a bloodline close to immortality.”

“When I invited you earlier, I indeed had other intentions. I wanted you to become like me—though it might cause trouble and evoke your disdain, I thought you would eventually understand.”

She closed her eyes slightly and placed a hand over her chest, the vivid red of her nails standing out against her pale skin.

“But now, I’ve changed my mind. It’s easy to break a bud, but hard to see it bloom.”

“Thilan is still fragile. To leave you as you are, frozen in time, would be a bit regretful.” She spread her fingers, gathering crimson petals, and a blood-red rose formed in her palm, conjured by magic.

“Well then,” the girl rose, her black hair swaying in the night breeze. A slight blue tint appeared in her eyes, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees.

Ranbell didn’t respond immediately, instead, her gaze locked onto the girl, the light in her eyes swirling. It was as though concentric circles were forming and shrinking in her pupils.

“I can let you go. I could even assist you later, becoming your ally—but there are conditions.” After speaking, her body moved forward in an instant. There was no physical motion, yet she seemed to glide, leaving a long, lingering shadow.

In the blink of an eye, Ranbell appeared behind the girl, her crimson nails pressing lightly against Hestia’s white neck.

“Too bad. I thought you’d be able to dodge,” she said, her voice carrying a note of regret, as though discovering a new toy wasn’t as fun as expected.

“Hmm.” The girl grabbed her hand, then spun swiftly. As she turned, a magic-crafted deep blue sword appeared in her hand.

“Indeed, you’re quite special.” Ranbell flicked her fingers, and though her hand felt stiff, a hint of delight came over her. She didn’t rush to attack, patiently waiting for the girl to prepare.

The girl’s sword was gripped firmly in her palm. She crouched slightly, then her feet shot forward like lightning, and in an instant, three figures split off, attacking Ranbell.

The ghostly blue blade gleamed in the night, its arcs flashing in quick succession. Since returning from Thousand Towers City, Hestia’s swordsmanship had progressed by leaps and bounds. Not only had she absorbed techniques from the ‘Azure Lotus Cleansing Sword Palace,’ but she had also incorporated modern battle skills, improving and blending them. Though she hadn’t yet reached Sequence 7, her swordsmanship alone could easily earn her the title of master in the field.

The four long swords moved as one, crossing each other. Despite Ranbell’s incredible speed, she found herself cornered, the space for evasion sealed. She was forced to break through with force, scattering the blue sword blades with fragments of crimson before she managed to break free.

As the distance between them increased, Ranbell watched Hestia with a mix of curiosity and surprise.

“Your swordsmanship is far more refined than your age would suggest. It’s even close to legendary figures from history.”

“I’m not sure how you trained, but if you were at Sequence 6, you might pose a real threat to me.”

“I’ll test you twice more. If you can withstand it, I’ll concede and no longer press you.”

With that, she closed her eyes slightly, extended a hand into the air, and a blood-red orb of light appeared, drawing in streams of magical power.

Slowly, a blood-red spear manifested, covered in intricate patterns. Just a glance revealed that this magical weapon was extremely dangerous, brimming with destruction and curses.

“Magic Spear: Gungnir!”

Ranbell’s eyes snapped open, her red pupils briefly glowing with gold. Her gaze narrowed, and the spear shot forward.

In the blink of an eye, one of the four figures was pierced directly. The girl’s expression was filled with surprise and confusion as she slowly collapsed, a bloody hole in her chest.

Ranbell shook her head slightly, almost in regret or perhaps in apology. Just as she prepared to approach and take the girl to the castle’s depths for the bloodline inheritance ritual, the girl lying in the pool of blood floated once again.

Her form wavered in the air, like ripples in water, and ethereal singing came from her.

In an instant, golden illusions spread like ripples, rapidly expanding in all directions. When Ranbell finally regained her bearings, she realized she was surrounded by a vast field of golden flowers.

Countless vibrant golden roses bloomed across the land. Although it had been night just moments ago, the sunlight above now shone brightly, and the distant wind carried the scent of flowers. Golden petals glimmered under the sky, radiant and beautiful.

“Welcome to my garden.”

A golden-haired elven woman slowly descended from the air. She wore a slightly ornate dress, but her form seemed somewhat ethereal, not entirely real.

“This… how is this possible…” Ranbell muttered, staring at the familiar figure that every Federation citizen knew.

“The Golden Flame Rose Songstress, Isanisha…”