She Is Not a Witch

Weaving the star line was not easy. The river of fate extended into countless different branches, but for this tiny star, almost all were dead ends.

Trying to change the inherent structure of this world would face frantic resistance and opposition. This was only natural.

Generally, it would take many years of constant striking and shaking to break down the original structure and establish a new system. Anyone wanting to succeed in one attempt would only suffer greatly.

But there was always hope.

[Even if there’s only a one in a billion chance, I will find this path to a miracle.]

The silver-haired girl in a white dress, with burning eyes, traversed the river of fate again and again, seeking the possibility of continuation.

She saw one shattered future after another, one sad ending after another.

The setting sun like blood, broken halberds sinking into sand, corpses strewn everywhere.

Constantly turning in the river of fate, searching for a possible way to survive.

Again and again.

Again and again.

After countless times.

A weariness like a tidal wave swept over her, engulfing her entire being. Even with such talent and power, the girl began to feel tired, her originally firm will gradually sinking.

She wanted so much to rest, to sleep. The starlight flickering in her eyes slowly dimmed, her body moving through the river of fate gradually came to a halt, the edges of her form gradually becoming ethereal.

As if she might dissipate at any moment, falling from the star world, plummeting to the mortal realm.

She tried to force herself to fly again, but her fingers were slowly disappearing, turning into bursts of light particles.

[Is it still… impossible to save?]

Just as she was about to fall into despair, a butterfly flew out from her hair.

Its deep blue wings, like a dream, fluttered gracefully.

She became the butterfly, or perhaps the butterfly became her.

And so, this butterfly beat its wings again, leaping lightly, swiftly traversing the river of fate. Its seemingly fragile wings were stronger and more powerful than anything else.

Even the washing of time, even the collision of stars, could not damage it in the slightest.

The butterfly’s speed grew faster and faster, with no upper limit.

Finally, she transformed into light, illuminating the entire river of fate.

At last, a trajectory leading to a miracle was picked out.

The deep blue butterfly once again transformed into the silver-haired girl. She carefully picked up the originally broken star line.

Threads of golden light points continuously gathered from the void, intertwining with each other, forming silk threads, then constantly growing and extending.

This tiny star would follow this trajectory to a brand new world.

⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱⊰⋆⋅⭑⋅⋆⊱

Western Wind Kingdom, Wind Rest Plains.

Breathtaking starlight fell from the sky like a waterfall, resembling an aurora.

Pullman ran in the cold wind, his blood-stained armor especially cold, but the [Amber Fruit] in his abdomen released surging heat and magical power. With each breath, he exhaled bursts of white mist.

His consciousness had never been so clear. His supernatural core, previously stagnant, began to loosen.

Pullman’s talent was not high, even ordinary. If not for Loranhil giving him supernatural fruit to improve his constitution years ago, he would have had trouble even condensing a supernatural core.

After consuming multiple supernatural fruits, coupled with years of life-and-death tempering, he had barely entered Sequence 5. Among his companions, his aptitude could be said to be the worst.

Fortunately, excellent swordsmanship and diligent training made up for some shortcomings, but he had reached his limit. His supernatural sequence path had long since slowly come to a halt.

Like giant stone gates, heavy and tightly closed, with no future in sight.

But now, as he ran, he sensed a long-lost dawn. His rigid, solidified core began to rotate according to a certain rhythm, like a giant dragon’s heart, slowly beating, yet so powerful.

Knowledge and difficulties he couldn’t understand before now became clear at a glance.

In his consciousness, the supernatural core was a black jewel with complex patterns.

The light within it brightened and dimmed like breathing. Streaks of dark gold patterns began to engrave and spread on the jewel.

It wasn’t just Pullman. Even other rebel soldiers on the plain were the same. Those who had condensed supernatural cores began to advance, while those who hadn’t started to condense their own cores within their bodies.

The starlight in the sky carried endless mana. The magical power that was previously difficult to sense was now so clear. Even if some didn’t understand the key points or lacked aptitude, it didn’t matter.

The pervasive starlight was like invisible silk threads, guiding mana and magical power, carefully avoiding obstacles and blockages, continuously outlining and condensing sequence cores.

It was as if someone had carelessly splashed ink on a canvas, coincidentally forming a world-class masterpiece.

You could say the probability of such a thing was infinitesimally small, but you couldn’t deny its possibility.

Rolling a die 100 times and getting 1 each time has a one in a billion chance.

And the miracle is to pick this result out of billions, making it the destined only one.

Pullman walked faster and faster. Under the starry sky on the plain, the air seemed especially fresh. The enemy’s movements were clearly visible in his vision. In the sea of his consciousness, that obsidian-like supernatural core bloomed like a lotus flower. On the black petals were pale golden veins, with light flowing within.

And he finally advanced to War Sequence 7 · Ravaging Lord, the pinnacle of the information the girl had given him years ago.

Before his pitch-black pupils, there was still that blazing lightning, carrying the momentum of mountain roars and sea surges, coming head-on.

Wielding a great sword forged from black steel, incredibly heavy, yet flying up like a light swallow, then falling, like a butcher skillfully cutting meat, slicing down with the momentum, cleaving a Lightning Knight in two. Hot fresh blood sprayed and splattered.

The world in Pullman’s eyes had never been so clear. The movements around him, the enemy’s actions, seemed to be slowed down tenfold. Flaws that were difficult to perceive before were now so obvious and clear, easily split open, as effortless as drinking water.

After one sword stroke, the Lightning Knights suffered casualties for the first time, and this was just the beginning.

Their battle line charged again towards the gathered formation, lightning flashing across the ground.

The rebel army formation, with tightly packed spear ranks, stood ready. Supernatural magical power began to condense on the spear tips, cold light radiating in all directions, a dangerous and solemn aura about to burst forth.

SLASH——

Cold iron cut through armor, flesh, and bone. Chunks of flesh and heads mixed with steel rolled on the ground, splashing blood and dust.

The formation that was previously as fragile as thin paper now transformed into sharp, cold thorns, reaping one arrogant life after another.

Under the starlight on the earth, the thunder gradually subsided.

From this day forward, the Lightning Knight Order that shone with lightning was struck from the continent’s records, becoming a true legend.

And on the plains where bagpipes played melodiously, from today onward, a new myth would begin to be sung.

The kingdom favored by starlight, Cransia.

This country, established following the guidance of sages, would ultimately change the entire world.