She Is Not a Witch

Western Wind Kingdom, Wind Rest Plains. War horses neighed, flags fluttered.

On the ground, nearly 50,000 rebel soldiers, carrying billowing flags and long spears, wound their way forward in the cold wind like a giant snake.

In the sky, layered clouds piled up, not a hint of sunlight visible. The thick black clouds seemed as if they might collapse at any moment, making it hard to breathe.

CRACK——

A flash of intense light blinded eyes momentarily, followed by the deafening roll of thunder.

At some point, a group of knights appeared on the horizon. Lightning seemed to flicker around them. Without flags, without slogans, without any sound, and without any attempt at concealment, they charged down from the hilltop in silent stillness. The sound of hooves was crisp, leaving behind a trail of scorched black march tracks, with occasional bursts of lightning.

These lightning-like knights wore well-fitted armor, mainly bright silver with steel-blue edges. Their shields and right arms bore emblems of lightning and crossed swords.

The galloping cavalry split their formation on the ground, eventually forming a straight line. This horizontal line of 700 men moved as one, their sharp lances uniformly raised forward. Though seemingly thin, it was like a mountain roar and sea surge, unstoppable.

Before the rebel army under the blue flag with gold stars could form ranks to intercept, a portion of their line stretched across the land was cleanly sliced away as if by a scraper. Blood flew, leaving no survivors.

Pullman and his companions watched this shocking scene, their eyes about to burst. They had indeed considered the possibility of the Lightning Knight Order joining the battle, but no one knew it would be so terrifying. These knights with lightning emblems seemed to encounter no resistance as they changed direction and battle lines on the plain, shuttling back and forth. In a short time, they had slaughtered nearly 6,000 people, and this seemed to be merely the beginning warm-up exercise.

Following the great covenant of wind and thunder, these warriors guarding the Chaos Vortex appeared on a battlefield where they shouldn’t have been, their swords and lances now pointed at their own kind.

They were true soldiers, never questioning any order. Even killing their own kind didn’t shake them in the slightest. Their cold will was colder than steel.

Urgent horns sounded across the plain. Officers shouted hoarsely, urging soldiers to form ranks and resist this knife-like attack. Block-like formations gradually took shape on the ground.

Soldiers pressed tightly together, shoulder to shoulder, constantly closing ranks to form solid square hedgehogs.

Mixed with the smell of nervous sweat, each soldier could even hear their companions’ heartbeats. Shorter soldiers couldn’t see the scene outside, they could only anxiously grip their spears, following the officers’ instructions to aim in a certain direction.

But the officers’ anxious voices kept changing, as if the enemy’s position was constantly shifting. Now east, now west, as if toying with them. But the short soldiers knew this was no joke. The constant crackle of thunder, the neighing of war horses, the clash of steel—everything was so dense, like popping beans, never ceasing.

Finally, the officers stopped making them change direction, and their hearts slowly sank.

Is it finally our turn?

Azure electric light filled their vision, blazing bright, then they felt their bodies lighten, as if flying.

Below was a scene of steel and blood mixed together. That spear-wielding body looked just like themselves…

“Ahhh!” Pullman, riding his war horse, angrily charged down the hillside, followed by a group of personal guards in black cloaks.

But the Lightning Knights on the plain paid no attention, continuing to methodically reap lives. The silver battle line swept through one thick formation of rebel troops after another, clean as a windshield wiper.

By the time Pullman led his troops down, over 20,000 soldiers had already been slaughtered. Fresh red blood slid off the bright silver armor plates, yet the armor remained pristine, undamaged. Just as in legend, they were a powerful and noble knight order, unsullied by disgrace.

Finally, Pullman approached this group of lightning-wreathed knights. They turned their horses around, having finished off one square formation, and again formed neat ranks to face him.

The visors of these Lightning Knights had long since been lowered. Only through the slits could one see their lightning-flowing eyes. War horses neighed long, and another charge began.

THUD THUD THUD——

A distance of over 500 meters was crossed in an instant. Pullman only saw the lightning spreading with the horse hooves. As the cavalry neared each other, his body was already numb. He exerted all his strength to activate his supernatural core, barely managing to sense his own body.

SWISH——

A piercing sword light flashed by. His left arm spurted a large amount of blood, an arm flying high before rolling onto the grass. The strong arm seemed to still want to grasp something, but its hand was already empty.

The war horse beneath him staggered a few steps forward before collapsing to the ground, unable to stand again.

Pullman, propped up by his great sword, struggled to his feet. By now, he was alone.

Enduring the intense pain in his left arm, he reached into his bosom with his right hand and took out the last two [Blood Activation Potions]. He tossed one into his mouth and pressed the other to the wound on his left arm.

He chewed the medicinal candy in his mouth mixed with blood. Beneath the taste of rust came a faint sweetness of maple sugar, as warm as when he first tasted it years ago.

Blood splashed on his face at some point flowed down from between his eyebrows. Some entered his eyes, bringing a stinging pain that made him want to close them involuntarily. But he dared not close them. His wide-open eyes stared straight at the group of silver knights opposite, his vision a sea of red.

Leaning slightly on his planted great sword, his trembling right hand again reached into his bosom, taking out a small orange fruit. This fruit should have been crystal clear, but now it was stained with the dust and blood on his hand.

“I’m sorry, teacher.”

Looking at the small fruit in his hand, he suddenly recalled that summer afternoon of parting, when a gentle song echoed through the forest.

[It’s a long night]

[When you’re searching]

[But can’t see hope]

…..

[I know this seems meaningless]

[I know this is extremely hypocritical]

[I know you can hardly bear it]

[Continue one more day]

[Advance one more day]

[Even if covered in wounds]

[Even if wings are broken]

[It can’t stop your flight]

[One day]

[You will see]

[That miraculous starlight]

“I’m sorry, everyone, teacher. In this brief life of mine, I’m afraid I won’t be able to see that starlight.” Pullman’s tone seemed to sigh, yet also seemed to bid farewell.

He tossed the orange fruit into his mouth, swallowing it whole. Then his right hand picked up the great sword beside him, and he stepped forward, charging once more towards that group of knights who were like the descent of the Thunder God.

His sturdy back and thick great sword appeared so small under the dim sky.

A gentle breeze blew, broken flags and lances stuck askew in the ground, telling of a dream difficult to realize.