Chapter 28 | The Witch's Golden Trait? This Villain Farms It First!

The northern wind of deep winter came to a standstill at this moment.

As if even the air had sensed the suddenly rising chill, the falling snowflakes hovered in midair, frozen into silhouettes of individual ice crystals.

Veronica stood with her head lowered, the tips of her golden hair drifting without any wind, as ripples of icy blue Circles spread silently from beneath her feet.

She snapped her folding fan shut and pressed it against her chest.

She opened her eyes.

Boom—

In the next instant, snow poured down from the heavens like a mountain torrent.

Amidst the deafening roar, Veronica stood firm and motionless.

The hovering snowflakes converged toward the center at that very same instant.

Compressing, solidifying, crystallizing.

The northern wind was forcibly dragged in, pouring its bone-chilling cold into every single ice crystal. They stacked layer upon layer, interlocking with each other, weaving a massive ice coffin in midair.

“Insolent fool, sleep forever.”

Deep within the ice coffin, 'Lynn' was firmly locked in place. He still maintained his sneering posture, his eyes wide, seemingly unable to believe he had been finished off in a single exchange.

...Is it over?

Supporting her slightly weak body from magic exhaustion, Veronica stared intently at the depths of the ice coffin with her beautiful eyes.

That twisted, delicate face cracked bit by bit.

Immediately after, the entire skin of the face peeled away from the center, rolling backward like a coat being taken off. Thick black mist poured out from the rift, rapidly expanding into a human shape in the air.

“How terrifying~ Is this the power of the Saintess?”

“To think you could achieve such a level when you're clearly only Tier 3... I can't help but feel a little envious of you~”

Veronica clenched her teeth.

Did the attack not work?

Seemingly reading the girl's expression, the newcomer spread his arms wide in an exaggerated gesture.

“No, no, no, of course it worked, Lady Saintess. My avatar was shattered so thoroughly that not even dregs remain.”

“By the way—” The black shadow raised his tone playfully, “as for avatars like this, I still have ninety-three left.”

Ninety-three!?

Under Veronica's solemn gaze, he took off his pitch-black top hat and respectfully performed a gentleman's bow:

“It seems I forgot to introduce myself~ Well then—”

“The Seventh Seat of the Order, 'Greed' Alastor Litton, greets you here.”

In the next instant, walking corpse-like black shadows surrounded the girl from all sides like a rising tide.

“Before this final elegy ends, please—dance a little longer for me~”

...

Veronica did not move.

She was surrounded by dozens of black shadows, each maintaining that gentleman's bow. Their pitch-black top hats were held uniformly between their fingers, resembling the curtain call rehearsal of some absurd theatrical troupe.

Her gaze swept past the dense crowd of black shadows and fell upon the only figure in the distance still wearing a top hat—the man who called himself the Seventh Seat of the Order, "Greed."

“Ninety-three...” Veronica softly repeated the number, her fingers tightening slightly around her folding fan. “It's nothing more than killing you ninety-three more times.”

“Unfortunately, with my current reserves in the North, only this meager amount remains. I hope I haven't spoiled your fun.”

Alastor placed his top hat back on his head, pulling the brim down slightly, revealing only a blurry smiling face outlined by black mist. “But with your current state, Lady Saintess... even a single one would be quite a stretch, wouldn't it?”

He was right.

Veronica knew this all too well.

A full day of high-intensity hunting, combined with the 'Glacial Ice Coffin' that had just drained half of her magic power.

At this moment, Veronica was undoubtedly at the end of her rope.

Her magic was depleted, and her mind was exhausted. Her throat felt as if she had swallowed burning coals; opening her mouth, she could feel fire igniting in her throat.

But she was still standing.

As always, she proudly lifted her chin like a swan.

“Lady Saintess,” Alastor's voice drifted from afar, “actually, I have a win-win proposal.”

“My target—is merely the young master of the Reinhardt family. Making an enemy of the Holy Cathedral out of nowhere would be quite a headache even for me~ So...

As long as you cooperate with me to find his tracks, I will let you go. What do you think?”

“...”

Veronica tilted her chin up, a bloody smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Kneel down and call me Grandma, and I'll think about it.”

Alastor fell silent for a moment, then let out a raspy, low chuckle.

“...As expected, you are truly worlds apart from the descriptions in our intelligence.”

He raised his hand and lightly snapped his fingers.

The surrounding black shadows moved at the exact same instant.

The rustling sound of fabric cutting through the wind and the sizzling of churning black mist rose and fell in succession. Dozens of dark shadows shot out from all directions, pouncing simultaneously toward the slender golden figure in the center.

Veronica stood in place and closed her eyes.

One breath.

The incoming wind drew near the tips of her hair, and Veronica could even smell the stench of rotting corpses. At the very last moment before those countless hands could touch her, she opened her eyes.

She snapped her folding fan open.

The icy blue light was no longer overwhelming like before; instead, it condensed into a hair-thin chill, flowing along the edge of the fan's ribs.

The thread of ice drew an almost invisible trajectory through the air, slicing through the neck of the first black shadow. The shadow took two more steps forward under its momentum, maintaining its pouncing posture, before rippling like water from the neck down, its entire upper body dissolving into dispersing black mist that scattered in the wind.

“One.”

Veronica sidestepped, the ice thread sweeping back and piercing through the chest of the second black shadow, splitting it in half right down the middle.

“Two.”

Three. Five. Seven.

The number of black shadows slowly dwindled, but Veronica's movements were also visibly slowing down.

“Nine—”

The instant the ice thread sliced through the ninth black shadow, she could finally no longer support herself and collapsed onto one knee. Her folding fan pressed against the snowy ground to prop up her body, and the ice thread trembled violently in the air a few times before dispersing like a kite with a severed string.

Around her, more than a dozen black shadows were readjusting their directions, turning around coldly and uniformly, their hollow eye sockets locking onto her position once again.

Alastor stood in the distance, tilting his head, his tone filled with genuine admiration.

“To think you could destroy another eleven... Even in a state where your magic is nearly depleted, you can still do this much.”

“A pity... What a shame!” He clicked his tongue in wonder.

“My previous proposal still stands. Why don't you consider it a bit more?”

Veronica did not look up. She kept her head lowered, her golden hair falling to cover half of her face. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth onto the snow, spreading into a small patch of dark red.

“...In your dreams.”

Alastor sighed. “Then there is no other way.”

He raised his hand once more.

This time, however, he failed to snap his fingers.

Because a blazing sword light slashed into the fray from the side, carrying violent fire magic as it crashed into the snowfield like a burning meteor.

Alastor's hand froze in midair.

He turned his head.

The fine snow filling the sky was vaporized into a dense white mist, flowing backward toward the dim sky.

A spark of brilliant golden flame emerged from the shadows, then spread wildly in all directions. It was as if it had transformed into a ravenous beast, swallowing the ice field into its belly.