Hate Me, Witch!-Chapter 68: Xia Ya… Brother?

Sylvia’s soft body fell through the air.

Xia Ya stepped forward, catching her.

And at the very moment Sylvia lost consciousness—

A pitch-black, ink-like shadow surged forth from the void around her,

spreading like a rising tide, engulfing the entire field of Night Orchids.

The pale purple flowers withered the instant they made contact, as if touched by some forbidden calamity.

And in the span of a fraction of a second, their delicate petals crumbled into dry, yellow dust.

This was the Twilight Divinity sealed within Sylvia’s body.

Throughout her life—**even in her dreams—**Sylvia had unconsciously suppressed the violent force contained within the Bronze Cross.

But this time—she gave up.

The moment she lost consciousness, she let the shadows spread, allowing them to consume her completely.

Xia Ya remained calm as the Twilight radiance surged around him.

Back when he was still at Second Ring, he had already dealt with a similar situation using mental enhancement potions.

This time, though he had foregone using any overclocking potions to preserve himself for his future plans—

Now that he had reached Third Ring, containing this small-scale loss of control was effortless.

Xia Ya’s dark eyes glowed, reflecting three spinning silver tomoe-like moons.

"Tsukuyomi."

The next moment—

A luminous silver moon manifested above the Twilight tide.

And under the glow of its pure, radiant light—

The raging divinity, which had threatened to devour the world, began to calm.

Bit by bit—

The Twilight power receded, drawn back into Sylvia’s body like a retreating tide.

All that remained was the withered field of flowers, the only evidence of what had just transpired.

Once everything had settled, Xia Ya crouched down once more.

From his Spatial Pocket, he retrieved a bottle of healing potion and uncapped it.

A vibrant emerald liquid, brimming with life energy, dripped onto Sylvia’s back.

Drip.

Drip.

The green liquid seeped into her wounds, staunching the blood flow.

Once the potion had done its work, Xia Ya put it away.

Before him—

Sylvia remained unconscious, her long lashes trembling slightly.

Two trails of tears remained on her delicate, pale face.

"A woman’s love for a man often comes at a far greater cost than a man’s love for a woman…"

"I suppose I’ve finally come to understand that saying from my past life."

Xia Ya chuckled self-mockingly.

Reaching out, he gently wiped away the two tear-streaks from Sylvia’s peaceful face.

Then—he crouched lower, lifting her into his arms in a princess carry.

"Shiny."

"Chirp! (Understood!)"

Within the Soul Pact Space, the golden-furred little monkey, who had been waiting patiently, swiftly activated "Blink."

The two figures atop Morning Star Hills vanished in an instant, warping down the mountainside in a series of seamless spatial jumps.

Cangting Royal Capital.

The place where the final act of this Historical Echo would unfold.

The place where Xia Ya’s stage awaited him.

The curtain of flames had risen—

From across the Western Continent, individuals with different motives, different factions, and different ambitions had gathered in the capital—

All for one reason—

To claim the divine authority known as "Twilight."

One act ends.

Another begins.

—

Western Continent, Golden Plains.

White Silver City, White Chalk Tower Headquarters.

"You’re going to the Plane of Eternal Slumber?"

The librarian of White Tower’s Grand Archive, bearer of the title "Silent Singer," Iswida, repeated Fioren’s words.

For once, her normally calm and indifferent expression showed genuine surprise.

"Fioren, do you understand what you’re saying?"

"The Plane of Eternal Slumber is…"

"I know exactly what it is. That’s why I rushed back from the Fresta Empire."

Fioren cut Iswida off sharply.

With a flick of her wrist, she recalled the Black-Scaled Wyvern radiating unparalleled draconic might into her Soul Pact Space.

Her icy gaze held a rare sense of urgency.

"Iswida, do you remember the words left behind by the Tower Master before she entered her slumber?"

At those words—

Iswida’s expression turned grim.

"You mean… something related to Cangting?"

"That’s right."

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A brief silence fell over the grand tower.

After a moment, Iswida spoke again—more hesitant this time.

"Think carefully, Fioren."

"If the information you’ve brought is a false alarm…"

"You know what it would mean."

"The Tower Master’s one and only forbidden obsession—if this turns out to be nothing, you might never be allowed back into White Tower."

"I never planned on returning to White Tower, Vice Tower Master."

Fioren laughed lightly, almost carefree.

"I came back to report this only because White Tower raised me. I owe it that much. Nothing more."

Iswida’s gaze lingered on Fioren’s black metallic mask for a long while.

Then—

She finally spoke.

"Very well."

As her words fell—

To an ordinary observer, the plaza surrounding White Tower remained calm and undisturbed.

But to Fioren’s eyes—

The space itself had begun to distort and ripple.

And within an infinitesimally brief moment—

The spatial fluctuations sharpened into razor-thin fractures—

Before they converged into an invisible, formless storm.

The next second—

Crystalline fractures spread across the black sky.

The dimensional barrier of the Material Plane showed signs of rupture.

A fleeting rift—

A gateway to the Abyssal Depths—

Had appeared.

To pierce the barriers between the Material Plane and the Dimensions—

This was a power exclusive to Legendary-tier beings.

At this moment, Silent Singer Iswida had only managed to accomplish this feat due to her authority as Vice Tower Master, standing within the White Chalk Tower’s domain.

As she gazed upon the twisting dimensional rift, Fioren did not hesitate.

She stepped forward—directly into the fissure.

Within the dimensional rift, chaotic spatial turbulence churned wildly.

A single misstep would mean instant death—

Even a Titled Sixth-Ring Beastmaster could be annihilated in an instant.

Fioren steadied her mind, following the barely perceptible pull—

Traversing one rift after another.

The spectral remnants of countless planes flickered around her,

But she paid them no heed.

After only a few breaths—

The twisting spatial currents and complex dimensional projections vanished.

In their place—

A majestic, yet somber Twilight Realm.

A vast kingdom of towering spires, endless palaces, and layered city walls.

All of it bathed in an eternal dusk, resplendent and grand—

Like the fabled Titan Kings’ Citadel from ancient myths.

Fioren drew a deep breath, her expression darkening beneath her metallic mask.

She did not summon her usual mount, the Black-Scaled Wyvern—

Instead, she walked forward, step by step, into the palace city shrouded in Twilight.

She knew exactly where she was.

This was a plane created by a single being.

Most of the world believed that the Argent Witch, the founder of White Chalk Tower, had been buried by time five hundred years ago.

A reasonable assumption.

After all, historical records confirmed that the Argent Witch was of pure human blood—

Not one of the immortal races.

Even at Legendary Tier, she would still be bound by mortal lifespan.

And she had not been seen or recorded for centuries.

Even within the archives of the most powerful factions, her profile had long been marked as "MISSING."

Some believed she had simply died of old age.

Others speculated that she had met disaster while exploring the Astral or Spirit Realms.

Some even theorized that she had vanished into the void between dimensions, lost forever—

A fate no different from death, at least as far as the Western Continent was concerned.

Throughout history, countless Legends had vanished in pursuit of godhood.

It was widely accepted that the path to godhood lay beyond the Material Realm, within the Astral Sea and Dimensional Abyss.

Thus, since the dawn of time—

Many Legendary-tier powerhouses had embarked on that journey—

And most never returned.

But among the highest ranks of White Chalk Tower—

Among those like Iswida and Fioren—

There existed a truth known only to them.

The Argent Witch, Sylvia Branstat, had never left the Western Continent.

She had never even sought godhood.

From the moment she attained Legendary status—

She had remained here, slumbering within this subordinate plane.

Not in some desperate attempt to prolong her life—

But because she had chosen to sleep.

And the White Chalk Tower—the great institution that now shaped an era—

Had originally been founded for one reason only.

To guard the place where she slept.

She had sealed herself away—

As if she were waiting for someone to return.

…

Fioren pressed forward, deeper into the palace city bathed in Twilight.

At first, her pace was steady.

But the moment she truly stepped inside—

When she came into contact with the condensed Twilight aura—

Her steps became unbearably heavy.

Sweat beaded at her brow.

With each step into the Twilight radiance, the weight pressing down upon her intensified.

Something vast—an overwhelming force—

Lurked within the gilded dusk, suffocating her.

Each step became an agonizing struggle.

Yet—

She did not stop.

She crossed the palace grounds, paved with gray-white stone bricks.

She ascended the stairs to the upper levels of the royal halls.

Dust cascaded from the massive silver-white pillars, stirred by her approach.

Finally—

Fioren reached the highest level of the palace complex.

And at the heart of the palace—

A veil-like curtain of Twilight shadows draped over the entrance.

She stepped through it.

And arrived before—

The Argent Throne.

A vast, silent hall.

Through the massive glass windows, there was no sun, no moon, no stars.

Yet a faint radiance illuminated the chamber—

Cold and dim.

At the center of the throne room—

A silver-white throne sat in absolute stillness.

And upon that Argent Throne—

A woman rested in silence.

Her pure silver hair cascaded to her waist.

She wore a tattered black gown.

From her back, layered Twilight wings spread outward—

Illusory, hazy, half-concealing both her slender figure and the Argent Throne itself.

She remained motionless, ensnared within the solidified dusk.

Her right arm rested against the throne’s armrest, her fingers supporting her cheek—

As if lost in an eternal dream.

And the moment Fioren laid eyes upon her—

A primal, suffocating sense of danger gripped her soul.

Even though the Argent Witch remained asleep—

The sheer presence of her existence was overwhelming.

A silent, unrelenting terror—

As if at any moment, the condensed Twilight itself could erase her from existence.

Fioren was a seasoned Titled Beastmaster.

Even before a Legend, she would never have been so powerless.

Yet this—

This was different.

Even in slumber, the Argent Witch had grown stronger.

In five centuries of self-imposed sealing and slumber—

She had ascended beyond what any Legendary-tier being should be capable of.

Most powerhouses who extended their lifespans through hibernation would awaken weakened—

Their power decayed, requiring years to recover.

But the woman before her—

The weight of her presence surpassed any Legend Fioren had ever encountered.

As if she were beyond reach—

As if she no longer existed in the same dimension.

Fioren dared not look at the Argent Throne any longer.

She lowered her head—

And spoke in a voice carefully measured with reverence.

"Your Eminence, Sylvia."

"I deeply apologize for disturbing your slumber."

"But according to the instructions you left behind before entering this plane—"

"During my time as Southern Inspector in the Fresta Empire, I stumbled upon an excavation—"

"A ruin belonging to the fallen Cangting Kingdom."

"At the excavation site, we also detected traces of a Historical Echo, but this particular Echo was highly unusual—we were completely unable to enter it."

"Furthermore, there is a young man who seems to have entered the Historical Echo of Cangting Ancient Kingdom. He was the first to uncover the clues leading to this discovery."

"His name is Xia Ya Egut."

"Currently seventeen years old, a third-year student at Saint Roland Academy, possessing combat strength nearing Master-tier…"

"I suspect he may be connected to the past that you have been searching for."

Fioren, still bowed, delivered her intelligence in precise, concise statements, revealing everything she had uncovered.

The moment she finished speaking, her figure began to fade—

A dimensional fissure appeared, instantly pulling her away from the silver-and-twilight realm, returning her to the Material Plane.

The pressure near the Argent Throne was simply too overwhelming.

Even a Six-Ring Beastmaster could only withstand it for mere seconds.

As Fioren’s presence vanished, the palace bathed in twilight returned to its unnerving silence.

The gilded dusk, the towering silver halls—

All of it seemed frozen in time.

No one knew how long the silence lasted.

But then—

Upon the pristine silver armrest of the throne,

A single pale finger twitched.

Within the solidified Twilight,

The woman in the black gauze dress remained motionless, still resting upon the Argent Throne.

However—

Somewhere within the throne room,

A thick, ancient tome, coated in layers of dust,

suddenly flipped open on its own.

The old, weathered pages fluttered violently—

Until they settled upon a blank page.

The next moment—

Delicate yet archaic golden script began to inscribe itself upon the pages, as if etched by an unseen hand.

"Having awakened from my self-imposed slumber, my memories remain fragmented—"

"Except for one—"

"The betrayal, carved deep into my soul, remains as vivid as ever."

"Checking the flow of Time’s Sands…"

"Five centuries have passed in the Material Plane."

"I sensed something familiar from that visitor just now…"

"So, the tower I founded still stands?"

"That… is good news."

"To be able to see something familiar once more."

"I had thought that when I awoke, everything would have changed beyond recognition…"

"Just like my homeland once did…"

"Reading through the records of the throne—"

"That girl, likely from White Tower, came to this plane to awaken me because they discovered a Historical Echo within the ruins of Cangting Principality."

"And the one who discovered this Historical Echo…"

The golden text halted.

Then—

CRACK.

The solidified Twilight encasing the Argent Throne shattered.

Countless fragments of golden dusk crumbled, scattering to the floor.

The script resumed—

But unlike before, where it had been elegant and refined—

Now, the golden writing was jagged and chaotic.

"Xia Ya…"

"Brother?"

—Excerpt from The Argent Witch’s Diary,

Page 705, Sacred Calendar Year 902, Frostmoon 28th.