It’s been two months since we last heard from Marcel. It was an unremarkable afternoon in the Demon Lord’s castle until suddenly… it wasn’t anymore. Boom! Allan received news from his mother to return home for a while. 

“Marcel, my mother said to visit home for a while, with you, ‘your highness’, in hand. When shall we leave?” said Allan as he packed some miscellaneous items into his spatial storage to a Marcel who’d just entered his room.  

“Um, do I get a choice to come or not?” Marcel asked hesitantly, hoping that Allan would just say something like, ‘I’ll just make up an excuse for you!’ but instead, he got, 

“I packed already. We saw Valeria and Silva off just the other day when they returned back home and we decided to take a break from alchemy and learning because we need a break. Mother said to come because it’s urgent. We’re going!” Allan said, firm determination to drag Marcel with him all the way home if he needed to.  

Yes, for some reason, Allan always gets like this when his parents are involved. He treats their requests like orders, probably a remnant from his childhood as their hardworking genius who lived by their every word. He was eager to answer his mother’s call, no matter what the reason for the call might be. 

 

“Oh~ Count me in!” The third witch suddenly appeared. Gwendal was not going to let those two spend all that time together when he could just spend it watching Marcel. I did say that he was selfish and self-serving, or didn’t I? 

“Yes, I have only met Allan’s parents one at a time, not both at once because they live such different lives. Count me in too!” Shalia also gave herself an invitation to Allan’s home. She wondered what the home of the Blue Dove Witches was going to be like. She was getting excited. 

“Hmm!” A low, deep voice sounded from right behind Allan and Marcel, startling them.  

“You scared me, Kenny! Can you please be louder when you walk?” Allan asked. He didn’t notice at all when the guy just walked right through the door and took his usual standing position, as in, anywhere behind him. Allan looked slightly frustrated because, despite having come closer to the next minor step in his evolution towards becoming a High Oni and becoming more human, Kenny’s monstrosity continues to be superhuman. He’s still just a B-class too~ 

“Um, I’m sorry! I just wanted to inform you that Evan ran away again after his brothers went rough on him, so they went on a journey to find him when I heard— Sigh, can I come?” He asked in a hesitant, almost begging voice. His expression didn’t change much but did his eyes dilate, making him appear less threatening, dare I say, even cute?  

Kensuke had, of course, learned what looked normal to other people over the years and tried to demonstrate it, despite his total failure in doing anything more expressional than moving his eyes without meaning to. Allan noticed it and he thought it was kind of cute. 

“Ha, two uninvited people are already tagging along. There’s no problem with adding one more to the mix.” He shrugged. At this point, all that mattered was going home… with Marcel in tow. He’d just treat this as another normal day he’d spent together with his friends. 

Gwendal was livid by Allan’s words, “Witch, did you just—”  

 

I’m sorry! I don’t have time for whatever insult he plans to use because Allan basically called him a tagalong when what Allan said isn’t even offensive in any way. I’m way too excited about the trip! 

*** 

 

So, they hopped on a telecircle, and Brixden, the homeworld of the Blue Dove Witches, they were. 

They arrived in a world of witches, filled with magic, eccentricities, and lastly, people. They were flying everywhere, painting the sky in all sorts of vibrant colors with their different colored hairs. There was always something new for the eyes to see both above and below, with people arguing in mid-air as they flew with spells and skills, and on the ground. Also, was it just Marcel, or were things exploding everywhere in an almost rhythmic fashion, like a song’s tune. I guess this is what happens when you bring so many Blue Doves and other species of witches together. 

The telecircle brought them to the transit city to the home of the Blue Dove Witches, a large floating island connected to the earth through tall, elevator-like structures. 

Allan took in a deep breath of the nostalgic air while peering at the oh-so-familiar chaos before him and uttered excitedly, “Home sweet home!” 

“Follow me!” He said, “We’re going to that island.” 

They followed Allan who, in a cheerful mood, led them to the transit point: those tall, elevator-like structures which they saw from a distance not so long ago, situated at various points all around the island as if there were multiple transit points besides this city in other parts of the world. 

Upon arriving at the transit point, they encountered a number of powerful-looking guards who guarded the way to the contraption with a small building to their right. They were light-blue-haired, looking to be siblings, and stood defensively with their faces serious, threatening any onlookers who might have any funny ideas regarding the lift. Allan and the group, however, walked right towards them, and, much to the surprise of his friends, Allan shocked them again. 

When he got close enough to the men, they showed friendly smiles toward him and one shouted, “Colonel Brayden!” They yelled for someone.  

Right after they yelled, a voice sounded from the small building to the side of the transit point rather harshly, “What?!! Didn’t I tell you—” The owner of the voice finally made their face known. They looked surprised. 

A teal-haired, older-looking, young man in a blue and white uniform appeared from the building and upon seeing Allan, his mood seemed to suddenly brighten. 

“I see you’ve returned!” He spoke. 

“Yes! I had some business back home, so I returned.” Allan answered nonchalantly.  

“Hmph, you could have at least said that you came back because you missed us.” He said before suddenly, he broke into laughter, “Classic Little Allan!” 

Huh? ‘Classic Little Allan’?  

“Please stop calling me that! How many times have I told you that I dislike your little nickname?” Allan looked irked. He really didn’t want to have this conversation another time. 

“Ha, you’ll always be little in our ey—” He retorted before suddenly, he met eyes with Allan’s company, “Oh? Who are they, little man?” 

“Ah, my friends! This is Colonel Brayden, my father’s friend and the only one who calls me ‘Little Allan’. I don’t really like him.” He introduced his friends to this ‘nasty’ man. 

The man’s eyes seemed to wander around until suddenly, they stopped, “Whoa!” 

Guess who he saw? Marcel, of course! 

Colonel Brayden looked at Marcel, the friend of his friend’s son, and was instantly captivated by this person. Entranced, he let them hop aboard the lift and decided to personally escort them. 

After they got aboard the lift, Colonel Brayden activated its internal mechanism, which caused them to travel at unfathomable speeds without feeling any of the normal impacting forces. Before they knew it, they were aboard the island and Colonel Brayden was back down on the ground, still not back to normal from what he’d just seen. 

When he finally recovered, he asked himself, “Whoa, who… was that?!” He was thinking about the pretty boy he’d just seen. 

In the meantime, Marcel, said pretty boy, was asking Allan the same question,  

“Seriously, who was that?!” He asked frantically. He could still feel how that man was staring at him. He felt slightly alerted and worried that he might have done something wrong from how much that man stared at him. 

“He’s just a member of my father’s regiment, the Witch Assault Squad, who works part-time as both the guardian of the ‘Sky Lift’, the artifact we just used, and also a supervisor at the Magic Institute of Witches in ‘Blue Heaven’.” 

“Blue Heaven?” Marcel was confused. 

“You’ll understand when you look around.” Allan smiled, not willing to explain why his home is called Blue Heaven.  

And indeed, did Marcel get his answer. There was blue everywhere. This really was the home of most Blue Dove witches because… they were everywhere! This place really was Blue Heaven. 

Wherever Marcel looked, people with one signature trait roamed everywhere. Across the streets, to the different shops and buildings, he saw people with the bluest hair that Kensuke, Shalia, and himself, had ever seen. From azure, blue, royal blue, marine blue, turquoise all the way to teal; they had it all here. 

Much to their surprise, another uninvited person was looking at the same thing they were seeing. 

“Whoa, this place is like, so blue!” Evan uttered. He seemed to appear out of nowhere. 

“Evan?!” Allan wondered how he got there. 

Evan seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. He sighed,  

“I know, I know! I was looking for someplace to skip to when, suddenly, I heard that you were going away for a while. To get away from mean Nigel and stupid Daniel, I figured that tagging along through your shadow was going to get me somewhere more interesting… and I was right! Your home is very interesting!” He said as he stared around at Blue Heaven and its inhabitants. 

So, what was Blue Heaven like?  

It’s around the size of Sizburn with basically everything a small country possesses, except, it’s an island full of just blue-haired people because this is where their creator, the Witch Originator, decided to make their home. It exists in Brixden as the core of the Blue Dove Witch society. There are, of course, several islands like it on Brixden, but it is the largest among the floating archipelagoes. 

Now, Allan, as a noble of the Archlen family, one of the core families in Blue Dove Witch society, lives in the greatest district: close to the Magic Institute of Witches, where he spent most of his time outside his home and workshop before he met Marcel. The Institute was located in the middle of the island structured into different rings. It was a giant, fortress-like building that couldn’t be missed. Apart from the giant fortress at the center that could be seen from any vantage point on the island, it was a normal city like Saber, the Sabregrant’s domain, except much larger. Its architecture leaned more towards the magical side though, with crystals of magic power powering its many sights. 

Anyway, now was not the time for sightseeing. They had come because of an urgent matter. 

They walked towards Allan’s home with the new uninvited tagalong in tow and as they did, Gwendal had some comments, 

“So, do you know that you can tell which kind of Witch race a witch originates mostly from by the color of their hair?” Gwendal struck up some conversation with Marcel. 

“No, I did not! I just thought that the hair was mostly genetically-inherited, like with the elves.” 

“Oh? That’s wrong though! The hair is thought to be inherited but it's more related to the species of witch race one stems from, something that goes so deep that it reaches the soul.” Gwendal added. 

Allan spoke, “Yes! Pyre Red Finches, Yellow Crows, Green Sparrows, and all the rest... Distinguished by a color and a bird, the Witch Originator was said to have birthed our diverse race with inspiration from the colors of the world around her and the creatures she encountered. Pyre Red Finches are Red, Yellow Crows are—”  

“Yellow!” Marcel answered. 

“Ha, angel! If you were a witch, I’m guessing that you’d probably be a ‘Silver Witch’. You share so many similarities with the Mother of Witches, progenitor of the Witch race.” Gwendal remarked jokingly, staring intensely at Marcel’s silver-white locks. He thought that it was so pretty. 

“I know, right… But he is a witch though, at least… I think he sort of is! He seems eerily similar to the annoying and godly Silver Witches revered by us all, doesn’t he?” Allan added. 

“Hmph! I hate agreeing with you, but you’re right!” Gwendal nodded in response to Allan’s words. This was probably the only thing he wouldn’t fight him about. 

“Tell me more about these ‘Silver Witches’? I am interested!” Marcel sounded giddy. Yet another something he didn’t really learn about, despite how much that ‘term’ is thrown out everywhere among the entire Witch race. Even Dragon Link didn’t give him what he wanted, though he could have maybe asked Alverona directly but, oh well… 

“They’re nothing really; just blessed by not only the Spirit of the World like the rest of us but also by the Mother of Witches herself even before their birth! Unlike us, they’re inherently different. These ‘Silver Witches’ are easily discerned by the color of their locks: ‘Silver’, as you might have already surmised. They’re rumored to be extraordinary, capable of wielding godly power: the strongest, beyond the triple S-class. They’re monsters!” Allan explained.  

“You know, people suspected Niobe Vigil, our race’s superstar, to be one of the Silver Witches in hiding, for a time. Many believed that she wasn’t really a ravencaster, although she was born of and lived like one. That’s ridiculous~!” Gwendal added, eager to please his love interest with any information he could give him, even if it was mostly useless to him. 

“Now, that name! Ains, isn’t that ‘Niobe’ person?” Marcel diverted his attention to the wolf in his spatial space. 

Ains answered, “Yes, that’s my creator and original master! Master’s ‘Black Witch’ friend is right! My former master was indeed a ‘Silver Witch’ just like everyone suspected her to be. She just really hated drawing attention to herself, so she hid it very well with the help of her family and close friends. Although she hated attention, it seemed like ‘it’ just naturally found her. You could say that it was her curse. Some even called her a Saint. She was so riddled with attention that, at some point, she simply disappeared entirely, returning only when people toned it down.”  

“Haha, why am I asking them about Silver Witches when I should just ask you?” Marcel remarked, laughing. 

“You can ask me about anything at any time, master, and I will do my best to comply, even with unreasonable requests.” Looks like there isn’t just one person eager to please Marcel. His wolf might be even worse of a ‘Marcel-pleaser’ than Gwendal. 

Meanwhile, as Marcel spoke with Ains, he looked dazed, but he continued to walk just fine. Allan, quickly caught on to what was happening, though Gwendal was a bit perplexed.  

“Don’t worry! It’s just Marcel talking to his wolf or something. You’ve only been with us for two months, and you probably haven’t seen him like this before. You’ll see it a lot!” Allan alerted Gwendal. Gwendal looked displeased. Although Allan had spoken without any intention other than to tell Gwendal some basic facts about Marcel, Gwendal took it as Allan flaunting his knowledge of Marcel and his status as his Angel’s ‘best friend’ in front of him. The nerve! 

“Hmph, I already knew that!” He glared at Allan, who suddenly felt like he’d offended Gwendal in some way. In fact, Gwendal didn’t even know that Marcel had an actual wolf. He just thought it to be rumors, until now. 

“Ah, these Ravencasters! It’s always something with them~” Allan thought as he stared at Gwendal, thinking of how easily the guy seems to throw fits.  

Gwendal averted meeting eyes with him. Allan… became amused! After all, he’d discovered a way to get on this new ‘annoyance’s nerve. I can definitely see his ‘Crown of Pettiness’ appear on his head. Haha, following these guys is fun~! 

 

Okay, now back to Marcel! 

Marcel soon came out of his trance and the others continued to enlighten him about Silver Witches, though, at this point, it was more like just praises. They sang the song of how glorious these witches were. 

Marcel listened as they chatted amongst themselves: Shalia, Allan, and Gwendal respectively. He didn’t dare reveal to them what he just learned about Niobe, afraid that he might turn the world upside down if news spread about Niobe’s actual Witch race. After all, what would happen to the precious reputation that the Ravencasters fought so hard to live up to? He felt like, just this once, he didn’t need to say the truth. He shut his bouche. 

At some point in their conversation regarding the Silver Witches, the three naturally brought Marcel up again. 

“You see, we know that Marcel is somehow of Witch Blood that existed in his birth world, but we aren’t sure what kind of witch he is? He might be…” Shalia remarked before all three of them fell in silence, dazed as they pondered the possibilities, this time seriously. After all, what kind of Witch blood could possibly find itself in the human world, allow its wielder to wield what seems like every witch blessings they’ve tried so far: both Alchemic- and Enchanter-type Witch blessings respectively? 

As of now, it’s still unclear which Witch ‘species’ Marcel belonged to, especially Allan and Shalia, since they knew that Marcel came to the demon realms with blond hair. Something that has puzzled these two witches for quite a while is why the Supreme Administrator let him end up with silver hair when she knew such a color was hallowed among witches. It’s almost like the Supreme Administrator is trying to cause some misunderstanding, making someone with Witch Blood silver-haired. 

Seriously, Supreme Administrator… why?! 

Vitalis, meanwhile... 

<< Hmph! I don’t need to explain myself to anyone, especially a bunch of brats whose fates have already been ordained. I’ll forgive your insolence just this once~! >>  

Vitalis smiled, in a delighted mood. After all, everything was going as planned. All she needed to do was keep watching and things would stay on track. It’s one of the main benefits of being ‘her’. 

 

Anyways... Marcel and his friends continued to discuss further. They continued to walk through the streets towards their destination. As they did, Marcel and the rest saw a group of flying witches: weird, flying witches. Unlike how they and everybody else ‘normally’ flew; with spells, skills, enchantments, and whatnot, these witches flew atop items and artifacts, some very plain while others were imbued with magic power. 

Again, Marcel found himself asking the same question, as usual, go figure... except this time, he already knew the answer thanks to his extreme consumption of knowledge, courtesy of the Demon Lord’s Castle’s vast library, Alverona’s Dragon Link, and his skills. It was just part of their blessing. 

 

Allow me to explain! 

You might have heard me classify Witches into types, like Alchemic- and Enchanter-type witches before.  

As we’ve learned from Allan and Shalia’s demonstrations, Witches possess special blessings granted to them by the Spirit of the World, depending on what witch they’re naturally born as. Allan and Shalia, both Alchemic-type witches, are blessed with the power to utilize all of the basic affinities to varying degrees when performing alchemy as well as possess special regenerative healing triggered when an alchemic-related accident is detected. How very convenient that the people who mess with things with the tendency to explode were blessed with these powers. They aren’t unique in the blessings department, however. 

Enchanter-type witches, like Gwendal, are blessed with the power of attribute enchantment, which allows them to bestow certain magical properties to objects and even people. There’s also the rare blessing of Rune Comprehension, which is much rarer to find in those of this type, as well as connections with the forces of nature. Someone like Shalia, who was born with a natural connection to the Spirit World, could have possibly been an Enchanter-type witch in another life. 

Diviner-type witches, a whole other type of witches that we really haven’t met, are blessed with the power of divination in the form of acquiring either foresight or hindsight. Some of them also possess a comprehension of star systems; which allow them to peak beyond their normal boundaries. They are the kind of witches you go to if you want to know if your partner is cheating on you, sort of like Silva, but way weaker and vaguer. Allan-- ah, never mind!  

As for the witches they saw flying atop artifacts, they are Battle-type witches, blessed with the power of immense magic pools, the power to analyze and comprehend spells with their analytic eyes, and flight. Unlike other witches, they can fly by just adding a bit of force to an object, like the broom-like artifacts some fly on or even a metal rod or stick. These witches are born for combat, allowing them to display immense strength. They are the Witch race’s attack and defense force, if the Alchemic witches and Enchanter witches are considered the race’s manufacturing force and the Diviners, their information-gathering force. These four main Witch-types are part of the reason why the Witch race is so efficient at not facing any real danger.  

I should probably also mention that an individual’s witch species generally have mostly nothing to do with what species of witch they are. A perfect example of this is Allan and his father, General Lancel Archlen. Allan’s father, General Lancel, is a man who fights as one of the witch race’s best generals, a Battle-type witch from the Blue Doves, which his son, Allan, is an Alchemic-type witch, despite the fact that his Archlen house is made up of more Battle-type witches than other houses. It seems like the World just likes to put Battle-type witches into the Archlen house, though, with Allan, the World decided to switch things up a bit. 

 

Continuing to walk, something changed, and they instantly noticed it. As they headed towards the center of Blue Heaven, nearing the Institute, they found Allan’s family to be, um… very popular.  

His and their faces… were plastered everywhere; on signs, billboards, edged into walls, everywhere, especially his father and what seemed to be an idyllic portrait of Allan’s face. Woah! 

Allan was so busy discussing with Gwendal and Shalia that he completely forget to tell them about it. Marcel was fascinated and also, kind of surprised by Allan’s popularity. He’d always known that Allan was remarkable, especially since they call him the ‘Blue Star’, but both Allan and himself had treated the popularity as something unremarkable. After all, one’s a hero, and the other was raised to practically ignore the fame he garnered. Seeing Allan’s face plastered everywhere, especially on that giant fortress-like building that sat in the distance: the Institute, strangely, made him feel kind of proud to know the ‘real’ Allan. He relished in the delight it brought him. 

***    

 

They eventually managed to reach their destination: a mansion that, according to Allan, was their family home, though, the number of Archlens who returned to it were so few that it might as well be empty. After all, the Archlen family head, who is not relevant to this story, is a busy man, same as the sub-family head, his sister, and many of the family members, who keep taking missions or training in very, um, questionable places, like eh... within Brixden’s hot magma core, to generate better flames.  

I have mentioned before that the Archlens have an ancestor who created the Burning Curse flame spell, [Ifrit], after witnessing the power of the great flame spirit itself. Yeah... that was only possible because the Archlen house is sort of a fire element-affined group, making it a sort of dominant elemental trait passed down throughout the generations.  

Okay, enough with the random jabber. Let’s continue! 

 

Allan activated the spell placed on the fenced-off, gated mansion so that they could enter. There were no servants around because they probably each followed an Archlen out when they left. Also, the very mansion gives off this intimidating aura that made very few want to get close to it, less work there. Despite being nobility, their family house was sparsely populated and since the servants left so often with their respective masters, the family head put a spell on the house to make it autonomous. The house recognized the spell Allan had used and his magic signature, identifying him as an Archlen, thus it let him in. 

After entering the house, Allan rang the doorbell at the front door, waiting for a bit to see if someone would answer. No one came to the entrance and he sensed no intent to come down and open the door from inside the house, thus he entered. He invited his friends in and directed them to follow him to the living room, intending to wait for his parents to return from wherever they’d gone.  

Ha... why has nothing changed at all? As usual, this place is dark and desolate. He just hoped that his parents don’t have bad news for him; like maybe telling him to return home so that he can continue to research in solitude like he used to. His current self didn’t want that! Seriously, this place’s bad vibes were polluting his mind. He did become a ‘Chosen One’, not the Demon Lord’s, after all. Maybe they’ve changed their minds about his staying at ‘his highness’ side, despite how much he continues to report to them about his life in the Demon Lord’s castle. He hoped that it was not so.