Char wiped some cold sweat, and silently prayed for his Lord, hoping that Lord Martha in the heavens would bless the great master with an extraordinary resistance to poison, or tonight would definitely be tough for him. Char couldn't help but think, if Romantic innocently offered Brand these graveyard moss, would his Lord choose to eat them? Or choose to eat them?
Thinking of this, he couldn't help but suppress laughter that led to internal injury.
But what Char didn't know was that after finishing her conversation with him, Miss Merchant turned back, seeming to focus on counting sparks again. However, Little Roman placed her hands properly on her leather bag, but was actually lifting her little chin to look at the girl on the other side of the bonfire facing her.
The girl seemed only one or two years older than her, but her expression was very gentle, looking at Roman as if she were looking at her own child. She watched Roman seriously hand over a skewer of roasted graveyard moss, and couldn't help but laugh bitterly, "Sorry, little miss, I don't like eating this kind of thing."
"They seem unable to see you." Miss Merchant observed Char on the other side and asked. She was not stupid; on the contrary, she possessed considerable wisdom. Branda had understood this since that night upon the refugee camp, but to outsiders, this Miss Merchant was just an eccentric but fairly approachable person.
This is a secret shared between her and Brand, which Frey knows a bit about, and Antitina has somewhat guessed.
The girl nodded, "Because only you can see me, not even the inheritor of that person below."
"Do you mean Brand?" Roman asked.
"That young man is called Brand? Thank you for telling me his name."
"If you're going to harm him, I won't talk to you anymore." Roman declared sternly.
The girl was amused and helpless.
"I won't, just saying thanks, I always want to hear what's happening outside. Besides, he brought you here, I would only thank him."
"Then why can only I see you?" Miss Merchant asked curiously again.
"Because you and I share the same blood." The girl answered, tilting her head to look carefully at Roman. But it was clear she seemed very fond of this little girl from Buqi, her eyes reflecting a satisfied impression. Roman thought for a moment, her little eyebrows perked up, "You and I share the same blood? Does that mean you're my mother?"
The girl laughed bitterly again.
"Of course not," she said, "if I were to say, I should be your grandmother's grandmother's grandmother..." She suddenly stopped, realizing she had been influenced by the other, even her way of speaking became chaotic. She couldn't help but shake her head helplessly: "Alright, no more jokes, do you know what kind of power you possess? I think you ought to have a grasp already, right?"
"I know," Roman nodded: "A dwarf once told me that I am a magician because I can use magic innately."
"Oh?"
The girl looked at Roman with curiosity: "You are not a magician, you are a witch, and an innate one at that. The blood flowing through you is of the Fate Witch line, your natal star sign is the Harp Girl, but after today, it will no longer be so. After today, your natal star sign will be the Witch King's Throne—"
"Roman didn't quite understand, but that dwarf clearly said I was a magician." Miss Merchant thought for a second: "Plus, I thought magician sounds more impressive."
"..."
Before the Golden age, the first Witch King, creator of the thirteen witch bloodlines, wife to the Dark Dragon Odin—she rarely met rivals throughout her life and never considered anyone able to defeat her. But until today, this Ice Queen had to admit there were people in this world she couldn't defeat. What did 'Plus, I thought magician sounds more impressive' mean? If any among her thirteen subordinates had dared say such a thing to her when she was alive, she might have directly used a spell to sweep that person into the Ice Labyrinth for eternal suffering.
But now her temper has improved quite a bit, moreover, she truly may not bring herself to act harshly against her own descendants, especially since time is already running out; encountering a true inheritor before her strength approaches extinction is already a delightful surprise.
The first Witch King, reluctantly, could only coax, "Rest assured, even if you accept my inheritance, you can still retain the abilities of a magician." When the girl said this, she practically wanted to bang her head against the wall beside her, clearly an innate Fate Witch's spell-casting ability, yet calling it magician's strength, and she couldn't argue—mind you, magicians were the witches' sworn enemies! What words were these!? If it weren't for maintaining her image, this legendary Witch King nearly burst into tears.
Having personally granted the qualifications to become Witch King, something many have dreamt of, yet she had to coax and deceive a little girl into it; this was practically 'losing face.'
Roman carefully considered for a while.
As a merchant, she still had to be meticulous. Ultimately, probably thinking there was profit in it, she cautiously nodded.
"Good child," said the Witch King weakly, even the novelty encountered upon seeing her descendent after countless ages had vanished completely. She reached out and touched Roman's forehead, and Miss Merchant immediately felt countless knowledge flowing into her mind.
"I am almost out of strength, hence cannot provide you with further assistance, yet the knowledge I bestow upon you will one day prove tremendously helpful." The girl sighed, "Perhaps it is fate in the shadows; you happen to be of the Fate line of witches. This knowledge will gradually become effective as you grow, but the key is to remember, the Witch King's mark I offered is the sole key to unlocking the Witch Kingdom's treasures. One day, you will unify the thirteen bloodlines; this mark will play a tremendous role, do you understand?"
Roman felt dizzy; she clutched her head, nodding seemingly with understanding.
The girl noticed her current state and couldn't help but sigh, not knowing if having such an inheritor is fortune or misfortune. Regardless of right or wrong, the first Witch King no longer wished to remain here a moment longer, fearing this little girl might craft some unique retort that would choke her senseless; she realized her scant dignity really couldn't withstand such distresses.
She withdrew her finger, resting for just a moment before vanishing from within the tomb.
Leaving Roman to look left and right, still unable to grasp what had just transpired.
...(To be continued. If you like this work, you are welcome to visit Qidian (qidian.com) to vote for recommendation tickets and monthly tickets; your support is my greatest motivation.)
