She Is Not a Witch

Hopland, Nisos family residence.

In a small parlor within the mansion, Fernelton was entertaining two guests.

An exquisite brass chandelier hung from the ceiling, bathing the room in bright colors. Red velvet chairs with redwood armrests lined the edges. On the table sat several small cups and a clear glass decanter, its amber liquid gently swirling in the candlelight—the signature Nisos family brandy.

“Lord Fernelton, there’s a fire at the winery,” a butler entered after knocking, then reported.

“Mm, I see. Send a team to put it out.”

Fernelton waved his hand, giving the order casually. In the past, this might have been a major incident, but today’s discussion with these two guests was extraordinary. A fire wasn’t so important—after all, they had plenty of wineries.

Hearing this news, one of the guests across from him had a new idea.

“Do you know the cause of the fire?”

“It seems an disgruntled employee deliberately set it.”

“Oh, this is interesting,” he said, drawing out his words slightly.

“Young Master Fernelton, I believe there’s no time like the present. Why not today?”

“Today? So hastily?” Fernelton was somewhat surprised.

“Yes. Although we’re not fully prepared, we’re close enough. Besides, acting earlier might catch them off guard.”

Fernelton didn’t answer immediately. He put his hand on his chin, rubbing it constantly, wavering and hesitant. The butler beside him was confused, left to stand by and continue waiting.

The two guests weren’t in a hurry. One of them picked up the decanter, pouring the orange liquid into three cups with a soft gurgling sound.

Fernelton took a deep breath, looking up at the chandelier overhead.

Candles, burned nearly halfway, were inserted in the lamp holders, clearly illuminating the painted decorations around the edges of the ceiling. These paintings told the story of the Nisos family’s rise to prosperity.

The scene began with a water merchant driving a cart, then showed him asking a farmer for advice in the countryside. Next was an image of him sitting in front of a house with his wife and child, followed by that child as an adult, reveling with friends.

The final scene showed a young man standing in a bountiful vineyard, with dense vines above and crates of grapes below, under a vivid blue sky.

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The second-to-last panel showed the young man sitting sadly in a house, opening a clay jar filled with rotten grapes, surrounded by many more jars and scattered grapes.

The last image depicted him raising a wine glass high, surrounded by several good friends dressed in various attire—an alchemist, a priest, a farmer, a nobleman, and a laborer. They stood beside the young man, also holding wine glasses, smiling at him.

“Wine brings friends together, regardless of status.”

This was the maxim left by the first patriarch of the Nisos family. But as time passed, only the first half of the saying remained important to the family; the latter half hadn’t been mentioned for a long time.

Fernelton closed his eyes, only opening them after a long while to speak.

“It’s too rushed. The old man won’t agree.”

“But the old man is getting on in years and should rest. If you can’t make decisions, who else in the Nisos family can?”

Fernelton took a deep breath, picked up the wine glass in front of him, and drank it in one gulp.

“Fine, let’s do it today!” He set the empty glass down on the table with a clank.

Seeing this, the two guests opposite him smiled, picked up their glasses, and drained them as well.

Fernelton stood up, put on his coat, and instructed the butler.

“Gather all the household guards in the courtyard. Also, notify our members throughout the city to assemble at the main house.”

The butler acknowledged with surprise, then prepared to leave when another order came.

“Take good care of the old man, and don’t let outsiders near him.”

“Yes, Lord Fernelton.”

The butler quickly left the parlor, and soon after, the great bell of the Nisos Merchant Association rang out, its sound urgent and solemn.

Fernelton stood by the window, watching the crowd below the mansion spring into action, then turned around.

“Now the Nisos family will fulfill its covenant. When will I see your promises fulfilled, young masters of the Tisphone family?”

In the bright candlelight, the two young men also stood up.

“Rest assured, Lord Fernelton. Just now, Master Snape sent us a message that the ‘Titan’ has been activated. Anemis has already reached a consensus, and we, the Tisphone family, blessed by your fortune, have also obtained the final piece of the puzzle. We can act at any time.”

In the lamplight, black bangs cast shadows that obscured his features, and a reckless smile appeared at the corner of his mouth—it was Edmond of the Tisphone family.

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On the other side of Hopland, on a secluded small bridge.

Bard stared blankly at the silver-haired girl before him. Under the cold moonlight, those clear crimson eyes and her ethereally beautiful face gave him a shock he’d never imagined possible in his life.

The more one lacks something, the more one craves it.

Precisely because of his poor appearance, which often invited mockery, he had always been very insecure and increasingly envious, even worshipful, of those who looked good.

Loranhil looked at the young man before her, and a mechanical voice sounded in her mind.

Mission: Answer Bard’s questions. Rewards based on completion rate, minimum 60%. (Current progress: 20%)

Reward: One chance to draw lots for every 20% progress achieved. At 100% completion, obtain a recipe for a supernatural artifact.

This was much easier than with Pullman, the girl thought with slight relief. After all, personal issues were easier to solve, unlike Pullman’s grand ambitions.

Ninety-nine percent of a person’s problems in life are simply due to lack of power (money). The saying “brute force breaks all techniques” or “one sword breaks ten thousand methods” holds true. Just make him strong enough, and that’s it.

“So, do you want to gain power?”

The girl’s gentle voice rang out. Combined with her silver hair and red eyes, she seemed like a demon from the depths of hell, tempting a mortal to drink forbidden poison.

Bard looked into those red eyes that seemed capable of absorbing souls, his throat bobbing as he hesitantly replied.

“I do.”

“But you must pay the corresponding price and swear an unbreakable oath.”

“I’m willing.”

The silver-haired girl slowly rose into the air. Red light particles began to appear and gather in the amber fruit in her palm.

If one were to ask which supernatural sequence had the strongest attack power and was easiest to quickly master, it would undoubtedly be the Demon Sequence.

This dangerous sequence, inherited from the True Red Empire, was created for merciless slaughter from its inception, terrifying to both its user and others.

The fruit from that supernatural maple tree had stable properties and was a widely applicable panacea, perfect for moderating this dangerous magic power.

The fruit, now a gleaming crimson like a ruby, flew towards the young man. He reached out with both hands to cup it in his palms, then swallowed it in one gulp. Fierce magical power began to flow through his body.

A pain starting from the ends of his blood vessels began to spread throughout his body. The intense pain nearly numbed his consciousness.

“Focus your mind, listen to my instructions.” The girl’s gentle voice sounded in his mind, immediately easing the pain somewhat, allowing him to try to concentrate.

Although Bard had never studied supernatural knowledge nor had any experience in cultivating supernatural power, under the guidance of Loranhil, a mythical-level player, he just needed to follow the lead of the magical power and do as instructed.

In Loranhil’s supernatural perception, a blood-red gem began to form inside Bard’s body, slowly pulsing like the heart of a giant beast.

Finally, Demon Sequence 4 · Beast of Boiling Blood was achieved.