Still, his lips twitched as if to answer.
Leverianz watched him with a steady gaze, and Malandor’s fiery eyes grew even hotter.
“I…”
At that moment, Mirania, who had been watching, interrupted.
“Please don’t.”
“Huh? This isn’t right, Mirania.”
“…”
“Seriously, we’re going to stop this fun?”
Malandor’s eyes were pleading, like a boy whose toy had been taken away.
When Mirania’s expression didn’t change, he clenched his jaw. Regret flashed across his face.
He wanted so badly to know what Grecan would say, but Mirania’s eyes were growing colder.
He took a step back.
‘Hundreds of years and nothing had changed.’
This was the same Mirania who, hundreds of years ago, had been nearly killed a hundred times by Malandor’s mischief.
‘Malandor can start a war simply because he’s found it amusing.’
His title as master of slaves comes from the fact that he rolls all manner of creatures over his hands for fun.
“In reasonable time. Are you sure it will stop until I get angry?”
“…”
Malandor was inherently impatient, but once he got involved, he didn’t play nice.
Realizing that Mirania truly was upset, Malandor smiles innocently.
Not fooled by his facade, Mirania spat coldly.
“The red flower is cursed.”
Her words were not directed at Malandor but at the heartbroken Leverianz.
“So you shouldn’t be disappointed that you can’t use them, you should be glad.”
While Mirania’s attentions were focused on the sullen Leverianz, Malandor crept closer to Grecan.
Grecan stared at him indifferently. Unperturbed, Malandor spoke up.
“What were you going to say earlier?”
“Nothing.”
“You were going to answer.”
“I was going to answer you,” Grecan said, annoyed.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s not a big deal, tell me about it.”
“I was going to say that I couldn’t.”
“What?”
Malandor frowned.
“Why, is there a problem?”
“I’m disappointed. Don’t you want to save Mirania?”
Grecan tilted his head in question.
“If I use the red flower as you said, I can save Mirania?”
“…”
“Leverianz failed, and you said it was a matter of strength. I’m not stronger than Leverianz, and if I use it now, I’ll end up like him. I only have one chance. I must succeed. And I can’t do that in my current state.”
Malandor froze, surprised at the calmness of his words.
Although Malandor didn’t know it, there was something special about Grecan, even in his lesser abilities.
Grecan was an exceptional hunter.
Abandoned by his parents when he was less than five years old, he roamed the forest to survive.
Scars were carved into his young flesh, and his skin hardened to be as thick as the scars.
Grecan knew when to hunt and when to wait.
But while the answer was an excellent one, scoring points for prudence, it did not meet Malandor’s expectations.
Malandor’s eyes flashed with irritation.
‘…Boring.’
I wanted to see you go down in a blaze of glory.
He didn’t like Grecan any more than he liked Leverianz, who was arrogant and brash, but with the air of a young creature who didn’t know any better.
Grecan’s single-handed strength was paltry, much to the dismay of the young chieftain of the bat people.
‘No magic, no psychic or telekinetic powers, except for physical strength, and yet I am more wary of you. It’s my instinct, my gut feeling.’
Maybe it’s the hunter’s sunken eyes, waiting for the right moment, or maybe it’s his persistence in not taking his eyes off Mirania, even in the midst of all this.
One thing was for sure, he didn’t like the soft gaze Mirania had for this unfortunate wolf pup.
It’s affectionate, like a mother bird who wants her young to take flight.
Malandor, who recognized that look before anyone else, felt his stomach twist.
He patted Grecan’s firm shoulder and chuckled in a patronizing way.
“Very well, Wolf Boy, I hope you have earned the right to take the Red Flower.”
‘Give your life to Mirania and die a good death.’
Leverianz, who was pretending not to hear, interrupted.
“I see you have no restraints on your behavior. Don’t go around stabbing people for fun. You’ve got no sense of humor.”
“A baby bat eats a man alive. You owe Mirania an apology, don’t you? You can’t even use the red flower, it’s useless!”
Malandor clicked his tongue, and Leverianz’s face darkened, unable to find the words to retort.
A shadow fell over his beautiful face, like a sculpture delicately crafted by the gods, giving him a somber air.
But, fortunately, or not, there was no one here to distract him from that splendor.
Grecan spoke bluntly, “The Red Flower has failed. I’m going to fetch the Tower Master.”
A new resolve for Mirania
“Bring the bastard Tower Master.”
Malandor clicked his tongue again.
“If humans knew the secret to prolonging life, why wouldn’t they have used it by now? Who could be more desperate for life than a mortal with less than a hundred years to live, and yet they don’t?”
Grecan, who had been listening in silence, spoke up.
“Is there another way, then?”
Malandor almost nodded smugly for a moment, but then held himself back under Mirania’s gaze.
“Is there a way?
“There is. Yes, there is, the most obvious one at the moment.”
‘That is to sacrifice a thousand lives to buy time, and that will buy her another year or so.’
Malandor had been taunting Leverianz and Grecan so blithely all this time, confident that he had a way.
Grecan eyed Malandor suspiciously as he relaxed.
“You’re a prick.”
Malandor pulled back his expression.
‘It doesn’t matter if they know what I’m up to or not, but it does matter that Mirania is here.’
If she knew what he was up to, she might not see him until she was dead.
‘That can’t be, no.’
He shook his head in disbelief, and Leverianz sneered sarcastically.
“What are you playing at if you can’t do anything about it?”
Malandor’s brow knit slightly at the nerve-wracking tone.
Part of him wanted to dismiss it as the ramblings of a man who didn’t know what he was talking about, but Malandor wouldn’t be Malandor if he could act so ideally.
He would be cold Malandor, the wise Malandor of logic and reason.
“These are not the words of a failure, are they?”
“I wonder if I could tear your mouth out and still say that.”
“Do you want to try?”
Mirania, meanwhile, watched the trio struggle and thought.
The sight of them trying to figure out how to do something that shouldn’t be done stuck in her retinas and wouldn’t leave.
At first, she thought they were just sad that she was about to die.
It was a strange feeling to realize that they were so close.
I thought, ‘This isn’t the kind of atmosphere that’s bound to die down.’
It felt like if I shrugged it off, I was going to make a big mistake.
‘Maybe I’m just overreacting, and when this body dies, they’ll scatter and live their own lives.’
However, the anxiety that kept creeping into her mind made her constantly anxious.
‘Things that are still out of control.’
If something were to happen after her death, things would go haywire.
Insignificant people being trivialized would not be a big deal, but these three are already, or soon might be, the greatest and most important clans in the world.
The world would be in shambles if the three of them went on a rampage.
‘I never thought I would have to worry about the afterlife.’
Perhaps I’m being overly dramatic, but even so, shouldn’t I be prepared?
Mirania was deep in thought. Spontaneously, she recalled the meaning of the term.
‘A great witch who dies has a premonition of the end.’
A dying witch.
A period of preparation for death, lasting about a year.
At this point, it was customary for the Great Witch to spend her final hours in silence with members of her coven.
When a Great Witch dies, a new Great Witch was born.
This new Great Witch would be unique, but she would never be the same as the previous one.
‘This is the last time I will have this identity, this name, and these thoughts.’
999 years of life. And one last year of life.
The Great Witch spends this final time of rest in the arms of the witches she has always ruled.
The Great Witch’s final year was a time to honor her repose, but it was also a time to comfort the witches she would leave behind.
Still, his lips twitched as if to answer.
Leverianz watched him with a steady gaze, and Malandor’s fiery eyes grew even hotter.
“I…”
At that moment, Mirania, who had been watching, interrupted.
“Please don’t.”
“Huh? This isn’t right, Mirania.”
“…”
“Seriously, we’re going to stop this fun?”
Malandor’s eyes were pleading, like a boy whose toy had been taken away.
When Mirania’s expression didn’t change, he clenched his jaw. Regret flashed across his face.
He wanted so badly to know what Grecan would say, but Mirania’s eyes were growing colder.
He took a step back.
‘Hundreds of years and nothing had changed.’
This was the same Mirania who, hundreds of years ago, had been nearly killed a hundred times by Malandor’s mischief.
‘Malandor can start a war simply because he’s found it amusing.’
His title as master of slaves comes from the fact that he rolls all manner of creatures over his hands for fun.
“In reasonable time. Are you sure it will stop until I get angry?”
“…”
Malandor was inherently impatient, but once he got involved, he didn’t play nice.
Realizing that Mirania truly was upset, Malandor smiles innocently.
Not fooled by his facade, Mirania spat coldly.
“The red flower is cursed.”
Her words were not directed at Malandor but at the heartbroken Leverianz.
“So you shouldn’t be disappointed that you can’t use them, you should be glad.”
While Mirania’s attentions were focused on the sullen Leverianz, Malandor crept closer to Grecan.
Grecan stared at him indifferently. Unperturbed, Malandor spoke up.
“What were you going to say earlier?”
“Nothing.”
“You were going to answer.”
“I was going to answer you,” Grecan said, annoyed.
“It’s not a big deal.”
“It’s not a big deal, tell me about it.”
“I was going to say that I couldn’t.”
“What?”
Malandor frowned.
“Why, is there a problem?”
“I’m disappointed. Don’t you want to save Mirania?”
Grecan tilted his head in question.
“If I use the red flower as you said, I can save Mirania?”
“…”
“Leverianz failed, and you said it was a matter of strength. I’m not stronger than Leverianz, and if I use it now, I’ll end up like him. I only have one chance. I must succeed. And I can’t do that in my current state.”
Malandor froze, surprised at the calmness of his words.
Although Malandor didn’t know it, there was something special about Grecan, even in his lesser abilities.
Grecan was an exceptional hunter.
Abandoned by his parents when he was less than five years old, he roamed the forest to survive.
Scars were carved into his young flesh, and his skin hardened to be as thick as the scars.
Grecan knew when to hunt and when to wait.
But while the answer was an excellent one, scoring points for prudence, it did not meet Malandor’s expectations.
Malandor’s eyes flashed with irritation.
‘…Boring.’
I wanted to see you go down in a blaze of glory.
He didn’t like Grecan any more than he liked Leverianz, who was arrogant and brash, but with the air of a young creature who didn’t know any better.
Grecan’s single-handed strength was paltry, much to the dismay of the young chieftain of the bat people.
‘No magic, no psychic or telekinetic powers, except for physical strength, and yet I am more wary of you. It’s my instinct, my gut feeling.’
Maybe it’s the hunter’s sunken eyes, waiting for the right moment, or maybe it’s his persistence in not taking his eyes off Mirania, even in the midst of all this.
One thing was for sure, he didn’t like the soft gaze Mirania had for this unfortunate wolf pup.
It’s affectionate, like a mother bird who wants her young to take flight.
Malandor, who recognized that look before anyone else, felt his stomach twist.
He patted Grecan’s firm shoulder and chuckled in a patronizing way.
“Very well, Wolf Boy, I hope you have earned the right to take the Red Flower.”
‘Give your life to Mirania and die a good death.’
Leverianz, who was pretending not to hear, interrupted.
“I see you have no restraints on your behavior. Don’t go around stabbing people for fun. You’ve got no sense of humor.”
“A baby bat eats a man alive. You owe Mirania an apology, don’t you? You can’t even use the red flower, it’s useless!”
Malandor clicked his tongue, and Leverianz’s face darkened, unable to find the words to retort.
A shadow fell over his beautiful face, like a sculpture delicately crafted by the gods, giving him a somber air.
But, fortunately, or not, there was no one here to distract him from that splendor.
Grecan spoke bluntly, “The Red Flower has failed. I’m going to fetch the Tower Master.”
A new resolve for Mirania
“Bring the bastard Tower Master.”
Malandor clicked his tongue again.
“If humans knew the secret to prolonging life, why wouldn’t they have used it by now? Who could be more desperate for life than a mortal with less than a hundred years to live, and yet they don’t?”
Grecan, who had been listening in silence, spoke up.
“Is there another way, then?”
Malandor almost nodded smugly for a moment, but then held himself back under Mirania’s gaze.
“Is there a way?
“There is. Yes, there is, the most obvious one at the moment.”
‘That is to sacrifice a thousand lives to buy time, and that will buy her another year or so.’
Malandor had been taunting Leverianz and Grecan so blithely all this time, confident that he had a way.
Grecan eyed Malandor suspiciously as he relaxed.
“You’re a prick.”
Malandor pulled back his expression.
‘It doesn’t matter if they know what I’m up to or not, but it does matter that Mirania is here.’
If she knew what he was up to, she might not see him until she was dead.
‘That can’t be, no.’
He shook his head in disbelief, and Leverianz sneered sarcastically.
“What are you playing at if you can’t do anything about it?”
Malandor’s brow knit slightly at the nerve-wracking tone.
Part of him wanted to dismiss it as the ramblings of a man who didn’t know what he was talking about, but Malandor wouldn’t be Malandor if he could act so ideally.
He would be cold Malandor, the wise Malandor of logic and reason.
“These are not the words of a failure, are they?”
“I wonder if I could tear your mouth out and still say that.”
“Do you want to try?”
Mirania, meanwhile, watched the trio struggle and thought.
The sight of them trying to figure out how to do something that shouldn’t be done stuck in her retinas and wouldn’t leave.
At first, she thought they were just sad that she was about to die.
It was a strange feeling to realize that they were so close.
I thought, ‘This isn’t the kind of atmosphere that’s bound to die down.’
It felt like if I shrugged it off, I was going to make a big mistake.
‘Maybe I’m just overreacting, and when this body dies, they’ll scatter and live their own lives.’
However, the anxiety that kept creeping into her mind made her constantly anxious.
‘Things that are still out of control.’
If something were to happen after her death, things would go haywire.
Insignificant people being trivialized would not be a big deal, but these three are already, or soon might be, the greatest and most important clans in the world.
The world would be in shambles if the three of them went on a rampage.
‘I never thought I would have to worry about the afterlife.’
Perhaps I’m being overly dramatic, but even so, shouldn’t I be prepared?
Mirania was deep in thought. Spontaneously, she recalled the meaning of the term.
‘A great witch who dies has a premonition of the end.’
A dying witch.
A period of preparation for death, lasting about a year.
At this point, it was customary for the Great Witch to spend her final hours in silence with members of her coven.
When a Great Witch dies, a new Great Witch was born.
This new Great Witch would be unique, but she would never be the same as the previous one.
‘This is the last time I will have this identity, this name, and these thoughts.’
999 years of life. And one last year of life.
The Great Witch spends this final time of rest in the arms of the witches she has always ruled.
The Great Witch’s final year was a time to honor her repose, but it was also a time to comfort the witches she would leave behind.
