Hate Me, Witch!-Chapter 96: Pierce Through It—The Holy Spear

The clamor vanished, leaving only the echo of those cold words.

An eerie silence swallowed the grand hall.

Just moments ago, the nobles here had envied this so-called fortunate soul, chosen by the Borgia Family.

But now—

As they met those deep, pitch-black eyes, an involuntary chill crawled up their spines.

They looked at the slender, black-haired young man before them—

And what they saw was not a boy, but a specter.

A ghost that had crawled out of the inferno of Ceylan.

—

But Ailora was not afraid.

She merely stepped beside Xia Ya, silently taking his hand.

Just like eight years ago, on the Northern Ice Fields—

She had held his hand the same way, feeling the faint warmth between them as they trudged through the endless blizzard.

—

"Xia Ya Egut."

A long sigh drifted down from the heights above.

"Do you even understand… what you just refused?"

—

"Of course I do."

Xia Ya’s voice remained calm.

"But I should thank you—for finally addressing me by my real name."

"And not by that ridiculous title—Xia Ya Ingurit."

—

"That name belongs to Winter Flower."

"It belongs to the Earl of Winter."

"A title of glory and honor, perhaps… but not a name that belongs to me."

—

The night breeze outside howled.

Through the open windows, the wind tugged at Xia Ya’s collar, making it flutter with a crisp rustle.

—

"The Borgia Family has never set foot in the North."

"Nor have they ever forged any engagement with the Winter Flower Family."

"Ceylan, in ancient times, was nothing more than a place of exile for criminals."

"And the Winter Flower Family, who guarded it, were no different from exiles themselves. You can dress it up as ‘defenders of the frontier’ all you want—but tell me, what makes them worthy of the Crimson Rose Family’s favor?"

Xia Ya lifted his gaze, meeting the eyes of the old man seated above—

The one who sat there, like a mere gardener, yet wielded a power that could shake the Empire.

—

"And as for me—"

"I am not the son of the Earl of Winter."

"The Winter Flower Family, by its final generation, had already withered. The Earl of Winter had only a single daughter."

—

"And what of it?"

A voice ancient, distant, and unmoved descended from above.

"If I say you are, then you are."

—

"Indeed."

Xia Ya’s lips curled into a silent smile.

"Ceylan was nothing but a desolate town, buried in the snow, a place so distant from civilization that even its information and understanding of the world were completely severed."

"Who would bother investigating the truth behind such a remote wasteland?"

"Especially now that it has been reduced to ruins."

"You say I am the last heir of Winter Flower? Then I am."

"Who would dare question the Borgia Family’s declaration?"

—

"And of course, the story you wrote for me is flawless—"

"The fallen noble heir, overcoming countless hardships, returns as a king, exacting vengeance and marrying a noblewoman…"

"Such a tale perfectly matches the expectations of the masses."

"When the curtain falls, every reader will simply applaud and say—‘What a perfect ending.’"

—

"But I know—"

"I am not the protagonist of the story you envisioned."

Xia Ya’s voice paused briefly.

—

"I was nothing more than an ordinary civilian of Ceylan."

"From the moment I could remember, I had no parents."

"I was raised by an old hunter of the ice fields. And when he passed away, I survived on the hunting skills he taught me."

"It was a simple life."

"But it was a good one."

"Until it was destroyed."

"Until the fire devoured it all."

—

Xia Ya looked down at the corpse of Warwick—

A bloodied husk, slain by a military-grade piercing round, his lifeless eyes still wide open.

—

"This was not the path of a protagonist in a well-crafted story—"

"But since the dawn of time…"

"Whether noble or commoner—"

"A debt must be repaid."

"A life must be avenged."

"That is the law of the world."

—

At that moment—

Something within Xia Ya shifted.

Deep within his soul, the last remnants of hesitation and discord vanished completely.

It was as if his dust-covered heart had been struck by a hammer, shaking off the grime and debris, ringing out like thunder.

His spirit and soul aligned.

Completely.

—

His mental energy resonated with the Spirit Realm.

His mental world, once illusory, now began to manifest.

A sea of starlight emerged—

Fragments of Time’s Sand, shimmering in a celestial ocean, illuminating the void.

—

Starlight formed an ocean.

—

—

"And yet—"

"That is merely your own account of the story."

—

The ancient voice spoke once more, still utterly unshaken.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

—

"A lowly borderland exile, conspiring with a traitor of the Church."

"Colluding in espionage, plotting treason, ultimately causing the destruction of Ceylan."

"And now, he dares to defame the Borgia Family with false accusations?"

"Foolishness."

"For nearly allowing such a treacherous wretch to become my daughter's fiancé—"

"I have made a grave mistake."

"And so, I shall correct it."

—

The moment those words fell—

A colossal force descended from above.

Like a mountain collapsing—

A Legendary-tier mental suppression crashed downward, aiming to crush Xia Ya into submission.

Under such a force, even Fourth or Fifth-Ring powerhouses would struggle to stay standing.

—

But Xia Ya—

Did not budge.

—

His mental energy continued to rise.

The barrier that once separated him from the Fourth Soul Pact shattered.

A new moonlight took form within his soul.

And yet, it did not end there.

His spiritual realm rumbled, expanding beneath the radiance of Time’s Sand, opening into new, uncharted lands.

—

The Legendary-tier suppression was broken.

Without resistance.

—

Above, the old man—who had sat so comfortably, watching like a gardener—

For the first time, his eyes showed a flicker of surprise.

His gaze hardened.

Just as he prepared to act further—

He sensed something.

A presence beside him.

A sharp, lethal aura.

—

"Would Your Highness truly break the balance between the Imperial Family and the Oathbound Families—just for one insolent commoner?"

Guderian withdrew his gaze from Xia Ya, turning instead to the silver-haired princess beside him.

His voice remained respectful.

Unyielding.

—

"Whether he is the heir of Winter Flower or a mere commoner—"

"I do not care."

—

"But first and foremost—"

"He is my chosen Swordbearer."

Isadella’s voice rang cold and clear.

Though she wore a palace gown, the killing intent in her presence was unmistakable.

She was not a political noble, skilled in the games of diplomacy.

She was a warrior.

One who had earned her name on the battlefield—through steel and blood.

The figure clad in the Black Eagle military uniform was the Empire’s totem—

And the nightmare of countless enemy soldiers and generals.

—

She lifted her pale fingers, making a subtle grasping motion in the air.

In the next instant—

Countless golden, ethereal motes of light converged in the void.

They shimmered and fused within Isadella’s grip, forming the faint outline of a Holy Sword.

—

Its shape was still indistinct, a mere blur of light, but—

The moment Guderian’s mental energy swept over it—

A sudden, radiant burst of starlight flared from the sword’s form—

So blinding that even a seasoned Legend-tier like Guderian instinctively averted his gaze.

—

"So, Your Highness has truly been acknowledged by the Lake’s Sword."

Feeling the immense, unfathomable power contained within the sword, Guderian’s tone grew heavier.

"However—"

"To invoke a sacred relic’s true name before it has fully awakened, while it still remains bound…"

"Are you not afraid that the years of effort you’ve poured into this will collapse entirely?"

—

Isadella did not answer.

She merely maintained her grip, keeping the faintly glowing hilt held in her fingers.

The Holy Sword, brimming with mystical power, wavered between reality and illusion, reflecting the brilliance of the Astral Realm.

Yet its unmistakable sharpness had already locked onto the old man before her.

—

For a brief moment earlier, Isadella had truly thought that Xia Ya would abandon his vengeance—

That he would accept the Borgia Family’s offer and embrace the glory and power they laid before him.

But he had not.

No matter how much sincerity the Borgia Family had shown, in the end—

He had chosen not to betray himself.

—

Isadella understood well enough that Xia Ya’s decision had little to do with loyalty to the Imperial Family.

But regardless—

At this precarious, turbulent moment—

That young man had chosen to stand on her side.

—

And so, at this moment—

She would give him her answer.

—

Guderian withdrew his gaze.

He did not move further.

For a long moment, the upper chamber remained utterly silent.

—

Then—

A flicker of doubt appeared in Isadella’s eyes.

Because she noticed something unusual.

The Holy Sword, resting in her grasp, wavered slightly—

Not out of weakness, but as if it had sensed something.

—

Its reawakening process suddenly accelerated.

—

What… could be calling out to this sacred relic of the Old Era?

—

Meanwhile, Below—

Guderian had fallen silent—

But within the banquet hall, his declaration had already set chaos in motion.

—

Because his words were final.

—

To be frank—

After Xia Ya’s accusations, most of the nobles present were actually more inclined to believe him.

But so what?

—

These were the old aristocrats of the Imperial Capital—

Each had eliminated their own enemies using similar methods in secret.

—

Certainly, the Borgia Family had been publicly humiliated, but—

Pride doesn’t put food on the table.

—

History is written by the victors.

As long as they emerged triumphant, who would truly care how many innocent corpses were buried along the way?

And for those invited here—

Their political alliances and loyalties had already been long established.

—

"Who would have thought this criminal would impersonate a Winter Flower heir? Such deceit!"

"Now that I think about it, all of his so-called military achievements might have just been staged with cultists in advance!"

"Miss Hystalia was nearly tricked into marrying him. Thank the heavens he got impatient and exposed himself!"

"If such a schemer had infiltrated the Borgia Family, who knows what disaster he would have brought upon them—and the Empire?"

—

But then—

All those frantic accusations abruptly ceased.

—

Because—

A clear, unwavering voice rang through the hall.

—

"By the ancient Oath of Crimson Blood—"

"I, Hystalia Borgia, invoke the Crimson Rose's Pact."

"And here, I call for arbitration against Xia Ya Egut."

—

A radiant brilliance descended.

—

Within the Hall of Oaths, a crimson sigil of a rose materialized, expanding outward—

Until it became a barrier of burning scarlet flames, enclosing both Xia Ya and Hystalia within.

—

"The Crimson Rose’s Oathstone is in Miss Hystalia’s hands?!"

A voice cried out in shock.

—

There were eight Oathstones in total.

—

Forged at the Empire’s founding, alongside the covenant of the Pure White Sword and the Crimson Blood,

Each one was bestowed upon the Eight Oathbound Families.

—

Not only were the Oathstones incredibly powerful relics, they were also the symbols of the Oathbound Families.

—

They carried immense ancient authority—

—

For instance, in the Hall of Oaths, an Oathstone holder could activate an arbitration barrier—

Sealing the space entirely, allowing no one except the arbiter and the accused to enter or interfere.

—

And only a true bloodline heir of the family could bind an Oathstone.

—

Typically, these relics were held by the current family head.

One of the Borgia Family’s goals in arranging Xia Ya’s engagement was to eventually claim Winter Flower’s lost Oathstone,

Thereby inheriting a portion of its ancient privileges.

But that plan had clearly failed.

—

And yet—

No one had expected that the Borgia Family’s own Oathstone—

The one that should have been held by Guderian—

Was in Hystalia’s hands instead.

—

It meant one thing—

She had already been designated as the next head of the Borgia Family.

—

—

But at this moment—

Hystalia had no attention to spare for the whispers of the outside world.

—

Standing within the arbitration barrier, she stared directly at Xia Ya—

Her once cold gaze now carrying a mixture of suspicion, fury… and unease.

—

"Why did you say that earlier?"

"What exactly do you know?"

—

"Nothing much."

Xia Ya replied lazily.

"I just think you try too hard to mimic someone."

"It’s obvious—you’re imitating our Church’s true Saint of Dawn."

—

Hystalia’s fingers stiffened slightly.

But she quickly steadied herself.

—

"You’re deflecting."

"What exactly is your relationship with the Saint?"

—

Xia Ya tilted his head, as if thinking.

—

Then, he smirked.

"Well, let’s just say… I secretly use Magitech Transmission to chat with her at night behind Ailora’s back."

—

His eyes flicked over to Hystalia, watching her carefully.

Then, he sighed, shaking his head in boredom.

—

"Honestly—"

"I don’t hold any hostility toward you."

"Given your age, you must have been sent to the Holy Court when you were very young. The Borgia Family probably kept all their dealings hidden from you."

"You're too proud and too naive… To outsiders, you may seem like a chosen prodigy, but to me, you're nothing more than a puppet, a decorative doll controlled by both your family and the Holy Court…"

"The ignorant are blameless. That may not apply to every situation, but right now, I really have no interest in you."

But just as Xia Ya finished speaking, in the next moment, he saw the figure shrouded in divine light.

A Monarch-tier Radiant Spirit.

It was an elemental lifeform similar in form to a Silver Spirit, but as a manifestation of light itself, a being blessed by the God of Dawn, the Radiant Spirit race was naturally superior to metal-based elementals. Even the weakest among them started at High Overlord-tier.

And the one Hystalia had contracted was an elite among Radiant Spirits—its racial rank was Imperial-tier.

To have broken into Fourth Ring-tier at just seventeen or eighteen, and to have contracted an Imperial-tier Radiant Spirit, Hystalia was indeed worthy of being called a God’s Chosen.

"You dare spread blasphemous lies about Her Holiness the Saint!"

Resonating with the fury in Hystalia’s eyes, the Radiant Spirit raised the Blade of Light in its hand, pointing it straight at Xia Ya’s throat.

Yet, facing the blinding blade locked onto him, Xia Ya merely let out a helpless sigh.

A dazzling radiance erupted, illuminating the pitch-black night beyond the window.

"Pierce through it, Rhongomyniad."

A cold, commanding voice rang out.

It was an ancient language from the previous era, yet Xia Ya understood its meaning perfectly.

A silver-blue lance tore through the sky.

Ripping apart the air, stirring up a storm, piercing through everything in its path.

In the next instant—

Crack—

Hystalia's eyes widened in shock.

The Radiant Spirit froze mid-motion.

Its core had been pierced through, and even its Star-Spirit body, as an elemental lifeform, was utterly shattered by the overwhelming mystical power contained within the Holy Spear.

It vanished completely.

Hystalia turned around, dazed.

And there, not far away—she saw a golden-haired girl clad in a knight’s armored dress, holding a silver lance.

Not long ago, Hystalia had assumed this girl was merely Xia Ya’s maid or attendant.

But at this very moment, in the golden-haired girl’s mithril-armored right hand, a cluster of ethereal light gathered.

A single, ice-blue chess piece, crafted from sapphire.

On its surface—

A snow lotus in full bloom was engraved.

Others in the hall might not recognize its significance, but as the next head of the Borgia Family, Hystalia knew exactly what it meant.

The Oathstone of Winter Flower.

"Didn't I already tell you not to raise your blade against me? Why won’t you ever listen?"

Xia Ya let out a long sigh as he gazed at the dim remnants of the Radiant Spirit, its light fading away bit by bit.

"When her temper flares up, even I can’t stop her."

—