’I have to escape this place and warn my master, we cannot make the Church an enemy right off the bat, just because of a trick played by an unknown kid’ thought the Witch, her mind raced with the plans of escape.
But the main issue remained: how could she escape this Isolated Space?
The Duke, standing silently in the chamber, was lost in his thoughts. Listening to Ashok’s ruthless words made him realize that sooner or later, Ashok would pose an equal threat to him as he did to the Witch.
The boy’s ambition and cold-hearted resolve were undeniable, and it was clear he would stop at nothing to achieve his goals.
The Duke felt a growing sense of unease. The alliance they had formed seemed increasingly precarious, and the Duke couldn’t shake the feeling that he was dealing with a potential enemy that could prove as dangerous as the witches themselves.
Ashok, with a cold determination in his eyes, took a deliberate step toward the Witch. "It seems all your questions have been answered. Now, you can die," he declared, his voice echoing ominously in the confined space.
"W-Wait! Leave me, and I will tell you the secret that this Southern Duke is hiding!" The Witch’s voice trembled, but she quickly masked it with a veneer of calm, hoping to buy herself some time. Her mind raced, desperately searching for anything to turn the tide in her favor.
"Oh! What secret?" Ashok’s voice was laced with mock curiosity, his footsteps continuing their slow, deliberate pace toward the Witch.
His eyes never left her, a cold intensity burning behind them as she slowly stepped backward, but the walls of the chamber closed in on her.
Her breath quickened, and soon, the Witch’s back pressed firmly against the wall. There was no more room to retreat. She had to act, but she also needed to hold his attention.
With a steadying breath, she spoke, her voice low but clear, "The Daughter of the Duke is a witch."
"Is that so?" Ashok’s voice was a quiet whisper, but there was no mistaking the edge of danger in his tone.
"Don’t compare my daughter to the likes of you," the Duke’s voice thundered as he glared at the Witch.
The Witch froze for a moment, caught between the Duke’s rage and Ashok’s looming figure. Panic flickered in her eyes, but she quickly regained her composure, her voice trembling but sharp. "S-See how angry he is. Do you believe me now?" She looked up, her gaze meeting Ashok’s, who had come to a stop just a step ahead of her.
In a swift, fluid motion, Ashok’s hands shot out and cupped around the Witch’s face, his fingers pressing firmly against her skin.
The cold touch of Ashok’s hands on her cheeks sent a shiver through the Witch, but it wasn’t the repulsion she had expected to feel.
The warmth of his breath against her skin lingered, sending an unfamiliar stir through her body.
For as long as she could remember, every witch was taught to view the opposite gender as nothing more than a threat, a potential enemy to be wary of at all costs and it was not different for her.
Her entire life had been shaped by that belief. Men were obstacles to be outwitted, deceived, and neutralized, never to be trusted.
To enrage their hatred against the males, the witches from their teenage during their training phase are locked in a room with ugly naked men, who were high on aphrodisiacs.
To survive, they have to kill all those beasts in lust, and only by killing all of them can they escape from that confinement which further develops their hatred towards the opposite gender.
However, the Witch of Rogues didn’t feel the same.
For some reason, the cold touch of Ashok’s hands on her cheeks sent a strange warmth through the Witch’s body, a sensation that conflicted with everything she had been taught.
Her heart raced, and despite herself, she could feel her face flush ever so slightly.
’There is no way I can feel good from the touch of a kid’, she thought, fighting the unease that stirred within her.
The Witch’s eyes locked with Ashok’s, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade.
His red, piercing gaze held her captive, burning with a fierce intensity that sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.
’Wait!’ The thought struck her like a lightning bolt. ’I can use this to my advantage.’
The Witch’s hands moved slowly, almost sensually, as they curled around Ashok’s, her fingers grazing his skin with deliberate slowness.
She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear as she spoke in a low, sultry whisper. "If you release me…" Her voice was soft, teasing, "I’ll let you have a great time with me."
The Witch’s fingers moved with unexpected tenderness, her fingers lightly brushing the back of Ashok’s hand. The touch was slow, deliberate, as though she was trying to gauge his response, reading his every reaction.
Her fingers glided upward and downward, sometimes in circles as they slowly brushed on his skin. Her fingers like a snake then traced the contours of his hand from the tip of his fingers to the end of his hand in a slow, rhythmic dance targeting his pleasure points.
The witch’s eyes had a vulnerable pleading look that looked like she was thirsty for Ashok’s touch.
’So now the witch is stooping to this level... even seducing the enemy?’ thought Cassius. He watched the scene unfold with a mix of disbelief and disdain.
The Duke, standing not far away, was having similar thoughts. ’Did this kid not apply an aphrodisiac? Don’t tell me he is going to fall for a witch’s seduction.’
From their perspective, it appeared as if Ashok had pushed the Witch back against the wall, his body pinning her there, though neither seemed to make an effort to pull away. The atmosphere around them were slowly getting heated.
’To think my last resort would be to use the Seduction arts— created by the Great Witches themselves—for the purpose of extracting information. But it might just be my ticket out of this.’ She smiled inwardly, her gaze softening as she studied Ashok’s face.
’This kid isn’t making a move... Once he falls under my charm, I’ll turn the tables. He’ll be the key to my escape.’
The Witch’s movements grew bolder, her fingers tracing along the back of Ashok’s palm, then sliding down to his wrist, before moving with calculated slowness to his shoulder.
Each motion was deliberate, an attempt to draw his attention, to coax him into her world.
As she leaned closer, her breath warm against his face, the space between them seemed to shrink. The witch started to lean towards Ashok face, slowly going for his lips.
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As the Witch focused on Ashok’s lips, she found herself captivated by them, their subtle sheen catching the faint light. Unintentionally, a thought crossed her mind—I wonder how they taste.
Before she could dismiss the fleeting thought, his lips parted. A soft whisper escaped, breaking the silence and drawing her gaze upward.
"So, charisma also works like this?" Ashok’s words escaped his mouth in a low, almost amused tone, carrying an unexpected depth as he studied her reaction.
"What do you mean?" the Witch responded in a soft, maiden-like voice, maintaining her act. Before she could say another word, Ashok leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear.
He whispered in her ears, his voice barely containing his laughter "Your massage was slightly good but you need to work a lot in your seduction.
You see... I especially hate that look into those eyes. It disgusts me to my very core and it makes me want to do this-"
The Witch’s eyes widened in shock as something dark and swift approached, coming dangerously close to her eyes. The sensation was almost overwhelming, yet she couldn’t move, her body frozen under the pressure of Ashok’s grip on her face.
His fingers dug into her skin, holding her in place with an unrelenting force that left no room for escape.
POP!
POP!
"AAAAAAH!" the Witch cried in pain as Ashok inserted his two thumbs inside the Witch’s eyes.
The eyeballs, being sensitive organs, could not withstand the foreign force and burst apart immediately, as blood started to drip out from the Witch’s eyes down her cheeks and staining the hands of Ashok red in blood.
"Your love towards me does feel warm, just like your eyeballs," said Ashok, pulling his thumbs out with deliberate slowness.
The Witch’s screams echoed through the room as the blood flowed freely from her ruined eyes. Her cries of pain grew more intense, filling the chamber with a haunting sound that seemed to reverberate off the wooden walls.
"Shhh," Ashok murmured, his voice cold and unyielding, as he released his grip from her face. In an instant, his left hand shot to her neck, squeezing tightly.
The Witch tried to cry out, but her voice faltered under the crushing grip on her throat. She began to lose her breath, her hands feebly pushing against Ashok.
"Don’t worry! Soon you will be free. I will send you to a place where you will be free from all your sins," Ashok said, his voice chillingly calm. He positioned his index and middle finger of his right hand where the blood dripped, just above his fingers.
Once enough blood had coated his fingers, Ashok began to draw symbols on the Witch’s forehead with his two fingers. The eerie red patterns starkly contrasted against her pale skin, creating a macabre display.
The observers, Cassius and the Duke, had already inverted their views of Ashok the moment he had inserted his thumbs into the Witch’s eyes.
To them, Ashok now appeared more like a malevolent force than the Witch herself, his actions revealing a level of brutality that not expected.
As Ashok meticulously drew the symbols on the Witch’s forehead, he began to chant in an ancient demonic tongue, his voice resonating " THE ONE TO WHOM MY SOUL IS BOUND! Accept this Gift of mine"