“—Yuck!”

As soon as she let go of the man, the witch spat out.

“...As I thought, Julius’ magic is still the best. Meanwhile, this one tastes like charcoal drizzled with honey...”

Then, she stared at the unconscious man.

On top of his light-colored skin, were some contrasting red marks. Upon the very first glance, the inconspicuous marks looked like a red rope that had coiled all around his body. Not only that, within said mark, there appeared to be tiny red dots. They were the result of being prickled by something sharp and tiny—for example, let’s say, rose thorns.

Oh, well... I’ll let Klavier take care of the rest.

For now, she decided to tidy up the man’s appearance in consideration of the chilly night.

In the middle of it, Ame realized that the air had grown even colder.

No, it’d be more precise to say that the temperature had plummeted.

The moment she realized that, a shiver ran down her spine. Within a split second, she was overtaken by instinct and leapt to the side.

Precisely at that moment, she saw it—

—at the spot where she had previously kneeled, a gigantic surge of wind swept by.

Had she stayed there, she’d be minced meat, for sure.

Instead, the powerful blow had ransacked the earth, scattered both the soil and grass, and left a huge crater at where it supposedly dispersed. It seemed to be a type of attack that grew more powerful the longer it was on the field.

By that point, the witch had already figured out what was happening.

It took every ounce of her strength to just not tumble on the ground.

The murderous intent was real. He was determined to kill her. His previous attack was nothing like their first encounter.

There existed only a single reason for such a ferocious blow.

He had seen everything.

Yet, somewhere deep down, the witch refused to give up hope.

While still focusing on the crater, the witch said to the approaching figure.

 “Julius, hear me out.”

 “Don’t waste your breath.”

Despite the cold reply, the witch still maintained her belief that the situation was still salvageable.

“Please, it’s not how it looks!” While desperately spouting those words, her heart was crying in anguish after being subjected to trepidation. “I can explain—!”

“—And I’m saying that I want to hear none of it!”

It wasn’t a contemptuous remark, nor was it a ruthless threat devoid of any emotion.

“—Either you quietly turn yourself in, or I won’t hesitate to do it myself, even if it means having to bring your cold, lifeless, body limb by limb!”

It was a scream full of rage, plain and simple.

As a result, she instinctively turned around.

Even though she didn’t want to.

Because if she did that, she’d then have to accept the truth—

—that it was over.

Thus, she came face-to-face with a demon.

His gaze, which was fixed upon her, was ablaze with intense loathing and fury... and also sorrow. They bled into his countenance, and the knight templar could be seen trying to suppress his surging wave of emotions. As a result, he looked truly anguished.

Yet, for some reason, something felt amiss...

Under the moonless night, his blade glistened white as magic gathered into it. His surroundings shook wildly, as if a storm had been unleashed upon them. The grass was uprooted, and dozens of blades of grasses swirled around his blade.

As magic was both a manifestation of desire and emotion, the knight templar’s wrath resulted in the drop of temperature.

The witch felt as if she had fallen straight into the icy depths of hell.

Perhaps due to his emotional turbulence, countless ice shards began to materialize around him, and as they reflected the light, they looked akin to the glittering stars above.

For they were his anger given form, they sometimes looked akin to crackling embers.

...And sometimes, to glittering droplets of tears.

“...You wretched, traitorous, witch—!!”

As he hissed those words, his eyes were firmly locked towards her.

At that very second, the witch became certain—

—that his anger, sorrow, and pain were directed solely at her.

If it was a resentment towards the witches as whole, then there was nothing she could do about that.

But, if it was because of something she had done, then she had to make it right.

Because she was responsible for his pain.

The witch stood firmly, and implored to the knight templar in a gentle yet determined voice.

“Julius, do you remember how you offered to escort me home back then? At that time, I was amazed by how kind and noble you are for giving a random stranger the benefit of the doubt.”

Step by step, she moved forward.

In contrast, Julius had stopped walking. His left hand was still tightly clutching his rapier, while his other hand was clenched even tighter into a fist.

...His left hand?

As far as she recalled, Julius was no left-hander.

“...Indeed, I’ve been far too kind and trusting to you—that you decided to play me like a fool!!”

...I see.

Her cautious steps had turned into a casual walk.

The closer she got, the colder it felt, as if she was treading amidst a blizzard.

Then, as the distance between them diminished—

“—Do not come near me!!”

Julius shot back as he swung his sword in an attempt to keep her away.

It sent a strong gust of wind towards her direction. While the impact had almost blown her away, the frigidity froze her to the spot.

Nevertheless, it was harmless.

His clenched fist was perhaps the symbol of control he desperately tried not to lost.

“Julius, at this rate, you’re going to wreck your seals.”

“Whose fault do you think it is—!? Stay away—!!”

“I don’t want to.”

“—Then let us fight, duel me to death—!!”

“I know you don’t actually want to do it, too...—”

—the reason she didn’t, or couldn’t finish her sentence was because the knight templar had abruptly crumpled to the ground. His blade, which stuck to the ground, was the sole reason why he hadn’t fallen completely.

The witch broke into a run.

“Julius, what’s wrong—!?”

Did he break his seals—!?

If so, then even more reason to approach and stop him. Otherwise, his life would be in a great peril.

“UUUUWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGH—!!!!!”

In front of her, Julius clutched his head and began to scream in pain.

His blood curdling scream resembled that of a beast.

It was then when the witch realized that even though his life was in peril, the reason might not be due to his own magic, or his curse.

Albeit it was faint, there was a trace of a third magic on his person.

As faint as it was, the witch was absolutely familiar with it.

The honey-charcoal flavored magic—the bewitchment spell.

“Julius, do you feel as if your mind is going to explode—!?”

In an attempt to steady him, the witch tried to seize both of his shoulders. In response, the knight templar struggled violently—both against the invasive spell, and also the witch’s touch.

Amidst their grapple, the witch saw something that attested to her previous statement.

It was none other than his blade, which was enveloped by whirlwind no longer.

It took considerable focus to maintain a spell. His failure to do so proved that his mind wasn’t at the state where it could do exactly that.

“—Nngh...! What, have you done to me—!?”

Regardless of his rage-filled accusation, and his murderous, bloodshot, eyes, the witch tried to reason with him.

“Julius, you have to stay firm—! You see, it’s the bewitchment spell—!”

“...I, see, you’ve been waiting for this moment to arrive, so you can utterly destroy me...”

Julius suddenly lurched forward and fell into the witch’s steady embrace, not because of resignation, or because he had lost his consciousness.

The absolute loss of movement, or paralysis—the second stage of the bewitchment spell.

Thus, his head inadvertently fell on top of her shoulder.

“...Serves me right for trusting a witch.”

Like they often said, betrayal couldn’t exist without trust.

As he spoke right beside her ear, the cry of his heart was transmitted to her.

At the same time, something dripped on her neck.

For a moment, she was unsure if it was the hotness of a dying ember, or the frigidness of a cracking ice—

—or just plain, hot, tears.

“...”

There was no saying what would happen if they were to stay there.

Hence, she had prepared a teleportation spell. It took longer than usual because she put Julius’ condition in full consideration.

Finally, the spell was complete.

It was time to return home.

As the vortex of jet-black mass engulfed the two of them, the witch softly cradled the knight templar’s collapsed body.

“...I, will, never forget.”

Somehow, Julius still retained a sliver of his consciousness.

“You will pay for this...”

A man of unlimited, incorruptible, determination, indeed.

“I’ll kill you... kill, I will, absolutely, kill, you—"

Inside the impending darkness, the knight templar endlessly chanted, as if trying to afflict a curse.