Hate Me, Witch!-Chapter 82: The Witch Who Walked Out of History

Until they walked out of the Dark Night Garden's boundaries.

Only then did Xia Ya notice that Ailora's heightened intuition—akin to a cat with fur bristling in alarm—was slowly calming down.

The two of them shared an umbrella, walking shoulder to shoulder.

Around them, the Imperial Capital’s streets blurred under the rain, shimmering in a dazzling yet dreamlike display of colors.

"She’s strong."

After walking side by side for a long time, the golden-haired girl beside Xia Ya spoke in a cool, quiet voice.

"Yeah, very strong. Just now, that was merely a shadow-formed avatar of hers, yet it already felt no weaker than a Sixth-Ring opponent."

"If I’m not mistaken, she should be the leader of the Shadow Council, the 'Queen of the Night'—Augustina."

"They say she holds a portion of the authority over night and secrecy, though who knows if that's true or not."

Xia Ya nodded.

Aside from his own teacher, this was the first time he had faced a legend so closely.

Even if it was just an avatar, the pressure it exerted on Xia Ya was anything but small.

"And that’s not all—"

Ailora spoke again. "The way she looked at you was… off."

"I felt it too."

Xia Ya agreed immediately. "It was like she was sizing me up, thinking about selling me to a slave trader for quick cash."

That was exactly why he had been willing to pawn off extra items just to pay in cash and get out of there.

Otherwise, given how broke he was, he wouldn’t have minded working a week to earn the money.

The offer she made was honestly tempting—even he had been a little swayed.

"A legendary figure who still cares this much about mundane gold coins… that’s rare."

"Could it be that even the 'Queen of the Night' is struggling to scrape together enough money to buy transcendent materials, just like me?"

For a brief moment, Xia Ya felt a sense of camaraderie with her.

Kindred spirits, adrift in the same sea of misfortune.

Meanwhile, beside Xia Ya, Ailora merely tilted her head slightly.

Then.

In her mind, she silently raised the 'Queen of the Night' Augustina's threat level—above that of Student Council President Diris.

Placing her side by side with Isadella, the Second Imperial Princess of the Empire, whom Ailora had never even met.

These were, in Ailora’s eyes, individuals who had the qualifications to pose a real threat to her.

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And if you were wondering why a mere single encounter between Xia Ya and Augustina was enough to trigger Ailora’s wariness—

It was simple: the exclusive intuition of women, ranked EX.

From what Ailora knew of Xia Ya, her childhood friend was practically a walking magnet for admirers. As long as he was around, women would inevitably start circling him.

Of course, Ailora completely understood why—no one knew better than her just how outstanding Xia Ya was.

However, if someone were to step ahead of her and steal a bite of the forbidden fruit—

That was absolutely unacceptable.

The Golden Plains, White Chalk Tower.

The Grand Library of the White Tower. Rows upon rows of towering bookshelves crafted from golden-thread wood stretched endlessly, grand and magnificent.

Countless books were arranged neatly and silently upon the massive wooden shelves, carrying an aura of antiquity and tranquility.

Fioren stood at the library's entrance, turning back to glance at the vast, serene Grand Library.

"You're leaving?"

A woman in a white robe, with a plain yet elegant face, spoke from behind Fioren.

The voice of "Silent Songstress" Iswida was gentle. "You know, you could always return to the White Tower. There's no need to constantly be out there fighting and killing."

"No… The White Tower is just like your title."

"It’s too quiet here, too peaceful. It’s a place only suited for seekers of knowledge, those who dedicate themselves to studying the arcane."

Fioren glanced at Iswida through the metallic mask. "Of course, for you all, educating and nurturing new generations isn’t a bad thing."

"But for me, the cold, merciless battlefield is where I truly find boundless freedom."

"I made a promise to Her Highness—I only came back this time to repay the White Tower for raising me, nothing more."

Iswida hesitated for a moment before speaking again. "Then… about the Plane of Eternal Slumber—"

"That place is shrouded in Twilight. Without peak Sixth-Ring strength, there's no point even thinking about venturing into the depths of the palace."

"To be honest, I'm still shaken by it."

A trace of lingering fear flickered in Fioren’s eyes as she spoke.

Despite her strength, she had barely made it to the throne room for just a few seconds before being forcibly ejected from the plane.

She hadn't even caught a clear glimpse of the figure seated on the throne.

That overwhelming, solidified presence had even inflicted damage upon her soul, requiring her to recuperate in the White Tower for several days before fully recovering.

"And the Tower Master…?"

"Not sure. But that oppressive aura definitely originated from the throne."

"The Argent Witch should still be in slumber upon the throne. And it seems her strength is still growing even as she sleeps—far beyond that of an ordinary legend."

"Who knows if she heard my words."

"In any case, my debt of gratitude is repaid. Now, it's time for me to leave."

She stepped out of the Grand Library, and the scene before her shifted—becoming the vast plaza of the White Tower.

In the next instant, a massive Black-Scaled Wyvern was summoned upon the plaza, its draconic might radiating fiercely.

Iswida nodded silently.

Regardless, just knowing that the Tower Master was still alive was already good news for the White Tower.

A living legend. As long as that truth remained, no one on the Western Continent could shake the White Tower’s standing.

After a brief thought, Iswida spoke again. "Are you still planning to return via the Empire’s teleportation array?"

"Yeah, but I need to reach the border first—"

Fioren hadn’t even finished her sentence when—

In the next instant.

Both she and Iswida’s expressions suddenly shifted.

"A military teleportation array?"

A line of faint golden text appeared in midair before them, without any warning.

Twelve streaks of light ignited at once.

Without hesitation, Fioren and Iswida simultaneously summoned all of their summoned beasts.

The solemn draconic aura, the "Requiem" that could bring death to all who heard it…

More than ten peak-level summoned beasts were ready to unleash their full power in that instant.

Inside the Grand Library behind Iswida, the towering bookshelves holding countless tomes creaked under the surging magical energy, trembling on the verge of collapse.

However, in the very next moment—

A dim yellow light surged forth, silently blanketing the sky.

Neither the Imperial-tier Black-Scaled Wyvern, the Crowned Griffon, nor the Death Hymn Singer… none of the summoned beasts could move.

And along with them, the countless bookshelves in the Grand Library, frozen mid-collapse, remained locked in the stillness of Twilight.

Only then did Fioren and Iswida finally see the figures beside them—

That graceful figure emerged from the radiance.

Silver hair, silver eyes, clad in a somewhat tattered black gauze dress, with layers of dim golden wings cascading behind her—illusory and ethereal.

She stepped out from the frozen twilight.

Then, her slightly worn red high heels clicked softly against the ground as she approached Iswida and Fioren.

"Sylvia... Tower Master."

There was a faint tremor in Iswida’s usually calm voice, one she could not suppress.

Unlike Fioren, who had already left the White Tower, Iswida was a hereditary administrator of the Grand Library.

Her ancestors had once been among those who followed Sylvia in establishing the White Tower.

Thus, unlike the newer generations of the White Tower, Iswida had never forgotten the mission passed down through her family.

Their true duty was not merely that of library keepers—but rather, the keepers of the grave of the Argent Witch.

As long as the one who slumbered in that tomb remained asleep, the mission of the keepers would be passed down, generation after generation, without end.

And now—

A figure that should have only existed in history had truly stepped out from the coffin that had entombed her.

Her appearance, her attire—identical to the portraits passed down through Iswida’s family for generations.

The graceful figure in the twilight turned back and looked at Iswida. In the empty air, faint golden words appeared.

"I recognize your bloodline. It is the same as that of the little girl I once saved when I founded the White Tower."

"Mm… that was my great-grandmother…"

"I…"

A rare display of visible emotion rippled across Iswida’s normally serene and gentle face.

She, the Silent Songstress, now found herself so overwhelmed that she struggled to form words.

This was the mission and the vow that had been passed down in her family for generations.

And now, it had suddenly become reality.

But the witch who bore the name of Argent did not let her gaze linger long on the shaken Iswida.

Her pure silver eyes swept across the scene—

Then locked onto the metallic mask that covered Fioren’s face.

"You’re that little girl who entered the palace earlier, aren’t you?"

"Just now, you said you came here using the Empire’s military teleportation array?"

Fioren instinctively nodded.

Though she was from the White Tower, she did not share the deep, inherited reverence for its master as Iswida did.

So, unlike Iswida, she did not lose control of her emotions.

Fioren was simply in shock that this historical figure had truly appeared before her—

And stunned by the sheer weight of her presence.

There was not the slightest visible exertion—

Yet all of Fioren and Iswida’s summoned beasts remained frozen within the stillness of twilight.

Among all the legendary figures Fioren had encountered, none had ever accomplished such a feat.

If the gap between Titled Beastmasters and ordinary Legends was truly large enough to allow an instant, effortless suppression—

Then Titled Beastmasters would not be regarded as the very pillars of a nation.

But then—

Fioren’s expression, like Iswida’s, suddenly went blank.

Because she saw, in the hand of the Argent Witch—

A worn and broken metallic disc, corroded as if by the passage of countless years, had silently appeared.

Fioren recognized that metallic disc.

It was the Empire’s standard-issue teleportation array—the same model she had used to travel to the White Tower.