-12- The Witch, the Evil God

Morning light streamed diagonally through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a gentle glow upon the desk. Yvette’s slender, pale fingers lightly traced the yellowed pages of a book titled *Linguistics: From Beginner to Mastery*.

After a while, she closed her eyes painfully and leaned back against the chair, letting out a soft, exquisite moan of anguish. Over the past two days, she had exhausted every means—gestures, written comparisons, phonetic aids, and endless research—to decipher the language spoken by the blonde little girl from another land. Yet, the origins of the tongue remained an enigma.

It neither belonged to the Emerald Language nor the Silver Mirror Language, nor did it resemble any of the hundreds of dialects derived from these continental tongues. The fruitlessness of her efforts weighed heavily on her, leaving her utterly drained.

Turning her gaze toward the estate beyond the window, she saw the girl swaying gently on a wicker swing. The intricate craftsmanship of her classical dress and the elaborate embroidery at the collar caught her eye. Gradually, a bold thought took root in Yvette’s mind.

Could this little golden-haired child also be a traveler through time? But unlike her own soul transmigration, perhaps this was a corporeal crossing?

With that notion, Yvette’s interest shifted away from the study of origin civilization languages toward another domain: psychic magic.

Indeed, within the origin civilization, telepathy and hypnotic arts were genuine restricted-level magics, bound by stringent qualifications, special conditions, and requisite apparatus. Typically, these powers served only to treat mental illnesses or interrogate criminals.

Now, Yvette intended to leverage her years of rune design expertise to swiftly develop a psychic magic for communication, meeting the pressing needs of interaction.

Half a month later, having scoured the remnants of psychiatric hospitals and police stations, and combining the accumulated information with her own rune crafting experience, Yvette’s initial attempt at psychic magic bore fruit.

The resulting grand spell, containing a staggering 50,000 runes, was far beyond the capability of even a seasoned mage like Yvette—whose mental power had grown considerably and whose magical reserves neared 600 points—to cast alone.

Fortunately, her years of scavenging had not been in vain. In the past two years, she acquired a minimally damaged magical terminal called the “Furnace Ring X3,” manufactured by the Ashen Scar Chemicals company.

After a period of study, repair, and hands-on practice, the situation took a turn for the better.

“The rune capacity is 500,000, but according to system diagnostics, 80% of the sectors are corrupted, leaving an effective capacity of just over 100,000... Not ideal, but sufficient...”

“Wait, why is the energy dissipation on the elemental capacitors so severe? A 20-point mana capacitor is down to 1% efficiency already, shutting down moments after startup? Phew, luckily I have a large mana pool for stable 24-hour power supply...”

Rubbing the ring on her middle finger, Yvette input all 50,000 runes, naming the spell “Language of the Heart.”

She also integrated a recently developed, yet unoptimized new spell called “Vitality Technique,” designed to accelerate bodily recovery from wounds or illness, comprising about 6,000 runes.

“With this, only 44,000 rune slots remain... How extravagant. Where has the perfectionist who once spent years refining a spell in the Abyssal Base, just to optimize seven or eight runes, gone?”

Quietly lamenting, Yvette descended the stairs and saw the little blonde girl crouched by the garden’s flowerbed, intently observing two squirrels mating.

Noticing her, the girl looked up with a sweet smile. The sunlight filtered through the thick branches above, casting dappled patterns across her face—a scene of rare beauty.

Yvette nodded silently in response.

***

She had now spent over half a month with the little girl. Despite the language barrier, they had developed a remarkable understanding through simple gestures.

Moreover, this golden-haired child was arguably the most obedient kid under ten Yvette had ever encountered—never displaying a hint of mischief, rebellion, or stubbornness, but rather an admirable blend of knowledge, politeness, and docility. This greatly endeared her to Yvette and deepened her curiosity about the girl’s background.

Yvette approached and beckoned. The girl obediently came forward, patiently awaiting instructions.

Yvette raised her hand; the girl immediately understood and lifted her palm, inviting Yvette to place her hand in it.

“...”

Yvette suddenly found it odd—this resembled a dog’s “shake hands” trick. She swore she had done nothing else, attributing it to the child’s remarkable perceptiveness, able to grasp her meaning instantly.

Without hesitation, Yvette activated the Language of the Heart, using skin contact as a medium to establish a subtle connection between their spirits.

Five seconds later, the rune sequence completed, and the veil of the spiritual world was abruptly lifted—

“Ah, when will this flattering, obsequious life ever end...”

The restless thought echoed in Yvette’s mind, causing her gaze to momentarily freeze.

She looked into the girl’s obedient, innocent face, meeting her large, watery eyes unflinchingly. There was a frankness, tinged with a touch of endearing timidity.

Yvette fell silent, listening intently.

“What is that evil god doing, staring at me like that? So scary... Can’t she just leave me alone?”

Evil god? Yvette was taken aback. She had saved this child—why did the girl perceive her as a malevolent deity?

Was there a logical connection?

“Damn it, to survive, I have to grovel like a dog before this evil god. How pathetic...”

“This isn’t my fault, is it...” Yvette couldn’t help but defend herself mentally.

Suddenly, the girl’s expression shifted to terror.

“Whose... whose voice was that?! Is it her? Can she hear my thoughts?”

“This is a magic that enables psychic communication, bypassing language barriers,” Yvette explained, breaking her silence.

Yet, she withheld from the girl that she had embedded a backdoor in the spell—allowing her to selectively mute her thoughts to prevent unintentional mind-reading while still intercepting all of the girl’s mental messages.

Finally, she added, “And I am not the evil god.”

“S-sorry, Mistress Evil God, I didn’t mean it—I just... I just...”

The little girl’s face changed rapidly, and with a thud she dropped to her knees, pale as paper, trembling violently.

Through the flood of emotion, Yvette sensed genuine fear. The girl seemed utterly convinced Yvette was the evil god, not an angel, goddess, or any other benevolent figure.

“Why do you insist that I am the evil god?” Yvette helped her up, maintaining physical contact to keep the spell active.

“Because... because this is the ‘Land of Doom,’ the very place where the legendary evil god, the ‘Doom Witch,’ was sealed.”

The girl’s inner resistance was palpable as she answered, yet she dared not withhold the truth: “I... I discovered that you live here alone, and you’re a beautiful woman, so I thought... the legendary Doom Witch could only be you...”

Before Yvette could respond, the girl’s thoughts spiraled into despair: “Anyway, I won’t betray humanity. Just give up on me... You might as well kill me now!”

“...”

For a moment, the estate was steeped in silence.

Watching the girl close her eyes tightly, as if awaiting death yet stealing furtive glances at her, Yvette fell silent for a while before changing the subject.

“How did you come to this world?”

Now utterly convinced the child was a traveler from another realm—albeit one seemingly less advanced, lacking even the concept of “planet”—Yvette pressed on.

“Remainder Abyss.”

The girl offered a cryptic term.

“What’s that?”

“I read in a book about an astronomical phenomenon called the ‘Aurora,’ which appears once every hundred years. When it occurs, a ‘Remainder Abyss’ can be found nearby. It’s a spiral-shaped portal connecting to the Land of Doom, lasting only a few minutes... These portals appear and disappear intermittently, sometimes releasing terrifying corrupted demons... I came through a Remainder Abyss to get here...”

Aurora... Yvette pondered the word, immediately recalling the brilliant spectacle she had seen in the night sky three months ago.

At the time, she had thought it a natural wonder, only later hearing the girl’s scream. Little did she know that night’s aurora was the key linking the two worlds.

She asked again, “What are corrupted demons?”

“They’re the monsters you’ve been eliminating outside... The book calls them ‘Corruption Demons.’ They sometimes emerge from the Remainder Abyss to attack humans and animals. They carry an evil contamination—if they scratch you, you become assimilated...”

Though more than half a month had passed, the grotesque appearance of the aberrations still haunted the girl’s memory. Yvette could sense the rising terror within her consciousness.

It indeed matched the aberrations’ infection method—though their previous means of infecting mechanical constructs was unknown, now, bloodborne transmission was the primary way they created more aberrations.

Yvette silently acknowledged this, then continued, “When did this phenomenon start?”

She suspected the other world might have connections with the origin civilization.

“I don’t know; the books don’t say. But it seems it’s been around for thousands of years,” the girl replied, shaking her head in confusion.