Alistair got off the horse, and Ephraim followed him. He advanced forward until he reached the threshold of the forest. Ephraim stood beside him, looking into the distance. No bird was seen in the sky, and no life stirred on the ground. Even the trees looked like an omen of death, making the soldiers behind them shiver in fear.
Alistair glanced from the corners of his eyes at the soldiers behind him and noticed the features of terror and fear on their faces and their trembling hands—whether the fear was from the death that might come from this raid or the pressure they were feeling. Alistair felt a little sympathy for them.
"We will have to leave the horses here; they won't be able to enter such narrow places," said Ephraim, drawing Alistair's attention toward him. Alistair remained silent for a moment before making his decision.
"It's better we send a scout to see the hell inside," said Alistair in a cold tone, but compassion appeared in his eyes.
"I'll go alone." Ephraim was shocked, his eyes widened from the shock, and he took a step back from the jolt.
"Alone? But isn't that dangerous? What if something happened? What if the witch had set a trap? What if you di—" Ephraim was anxious and confused. The idea that his idol might die just minutes after meeting him seemed like a cruel joke from fate, and his fears overwhelmed his reason.
"Don't worry, nothing will happen to me," said Alistair and began walking toward the forest, already entering it.
"W-why?!" shouted Ephraim in confusion and worry.
"Because I'm the strongest."
Those words made Ephraim step back further. "The strongest"—a powerful phrase on its own, especially when someone uses it to describe themselves. And because of it, his faith in his idol overcame his fear and gave him comfort. Even if they were arrogant words, they were reassuring and soothing, especially coming from "The Herald of Purification," Alistair Crowley.
Alistair disappeared from sight, delving between the twisted black trees. Their tall intertwined branches blocked out the sun until it felt like the time changed from dawn to night in an instant. The sound of branches and leaves breaking and shattering echoed with every step Alistair took, and soon his lungs were filled with the smell of mud and rot in the air.
Alistair turned around and realized that the huge number of soldiers he thought he could see from kilometers away had disappeared due to the forest's density, and he quickly realized something important.
"I'm lost," he said sarcastically and mockingly, letting out a soft laugh slip from between his lips as if he didn't care, as if he was slowly losing his mind due to the absurdity of the moment.
Alistair continued walking without knowing where he was heading. He wouldn't be surprised if he had returned to where Ephraim and the rest were. That's when he noticed a spot in the forest where sunlight pierced through the branches. The overlapping branches that covered the sky were absent, making it the first sunlight Alistair had seen since entering.
He approached further, and that's when he noticed a clear lake in the middle of the area. The lake was in the center of the forest, circular in shape, its water transparent showing the faded-colored small stones at the bottom. No movement on its surface, no ripples, no disturbance—as if it were an extended piece of glass. It was surrounded by short grass and a few scattered trees standing at a distance, their shadows not reaching the water. The sky was clearly reflected on its surface, and the light was evenly distributed. No birds approached, and no sounds were heard. Everything was still.
Alistair spotted a woman sitting on one of the nearby rocks beside the lake, her legs dipped in the water, stirring it in boredom. She wore a long black dress with a tight waist and a wide train, decorated with silver threads on the edges. Its sleeves were long, ending with dark lace. On her head was a wide-brimmed, pointed black hat. In addition, she wore short velvet gloves.
"The witch?" thought Alistair to himself, believing she was the witch due to her appearance. He was ready to ambush her. That's when she noticed his presence and turned toward him.
She was an extremely beautiful woman, with long red hair cascading smoothly over her shoulders, shining like a calm flame under the sunlight. Her skin was smooth and light, like a page of white silk. Her eyes were a deep red color, like two embers glowing lightly in the night, gazing at the world with a steady look combining intelligence and coldness. Her lips were precisely shaped, pale pink, and her nose was small and straight, adding to her facial balance. She was Lou Yan, the final piece of this play.
"Who are you?" said the witch in a calm tone that sounded like a breeze's whisper.
"O-oh... I-I... h-hahaha... w-what a funny situation... I-I'm just a passerby... w-who are you?" said Alistair, laughing nervously, forgetting even why he was here and that the woman before him was a witch, and began walking toward her.
"What kind of passerby would enter this place... you... you're a witch hunter, aren't you?" said the woman as she jumped off the rock she sat on, keeping a distance between herself and Alistair.
"Y-you found me out... s-so who are you?... Are you a witch?" asked Alistair, stopping in place, his awkward smile still on his face.
"I... am Agatha Lovecroft... the Sun Witch," said Agatha in a cautious tone—not to the point of seeing Alistair as a threat, and not arrogant, but just wary of the way Alistair was looking at her... at her charms.
"The Sun Witch?... I'm 'The Purge Herlad,' Alistair Crowley... a famous witch hunter," said Alistair with a worried tone, though his worry wasn't exactly appropriate. What really concerned him was whether it was right to tell this beautiful witch that he was here to kill her—he had definitely fallen into the trap of her beauty.
"I've heard of you before... all witches know of you and fear you. If you're here to kill me, don't expect me to stand still while your sword pierces me. I will curse this land even after my death, and it will burn forever because of your deed," said Agatha in a sharp voice. It was clearly a threat. A threat that would've worked on any other hunter—but Alistair was different... He was still lost in his thoughts.
"Did you hear a word of what I just said?"
"E-excuse me? Ah... I-I..." said Alistair in an embarrassed tone. That's when Agatha noticed the red tint that had lightly stained his cheeks—he was blushing.
"...Do you always tremble when near flames, or is it just me?" said Agatha in a playful tone, smiling with a blend of mischief and gentleness that made Alistair's eyes widen in shock.
Then Agatha began walking toward Alistair, and when she got close enough—due to the height difference—she was looking up at him, seeing his embarrassed expressions. Her smile widened.
"I-I can kill you from this distance—"
At that moment, Agatha wrapped her hands around Alistair's neck and pulled him close for her move, and both of them fell to the ground—Alistair on top of Agatha, pinning her down while her hands were around his neck.
"W-what the—?!"
"Shhh... Just enjoy the moment while you have it, darling. Who knows? Maybe you'll give me a reason to be peaceful," said Agatha in a playful tone. Once again, Alistair's heart beat fast while Agatha tugged at the strings of his heart, like the witch she was.
"Damn this."
———
Outside the forest, after minutes that seemed like long hours for some, all the knights had already gotten off their horses and were sitting on the ground in anticipation. Some of them whispered to one another so as not to ruin everyone's anxiety with their nonchalance—or rather, so as not to anger their commander Ephraim, who was still standing since Alistair had left, clasping his hands together and tapping his arm quickly in nervousness.
"He's late... Did something happen to him? Maybe a trap was actually set for him?... Is he in danger? Should I go after him then?..." Ephraim thought to himself, tense and confused, even biting his lip. At that moment, Alistair's words echoed in his ears:
"Because I'm the strongest."
That made him stop biting and lower his tense shoulders. He took a deep breath, then sighed in worry.
"He'll be fine,"
Ephraim whispered to himself to calm down a bit and feel reassured. But the feeling of worry quickly disappeared when he saw a shadow approaching him from within the forest, the sound of branches snapping with each step, and the cold tense air it brought with it. Then his eyes lit up because he realized he had returned—Alistair had returned.
All the knights stood up at Ephraim's signal. Then Alistair emerged from the forest, and the sparkle in Ephraim's eyes immediately vanished. Alistair's expression was pale and cold, his eyes dead like someone who hadn't slept in a week. His clothes were covered in blood, though it wasn't his. He was carrying a sack in his hand, dripping blood slowly with every step he took. The deadly aura that accompanied him, as if death itself had become a weapon in his hand, made all the knights grip their weapons instinctively out of sheer fear.
Alistair stood a few meters away from Ephraim, then threw the sack toward him on the ground. Rolling out of the sack was the head of Agatha—the Sun Witch—her eyes now white and empty of life, her eyes bleeding, and part of her tongue protruding from her mouth.
Ephraim's eyes widened, and his pupils trembled from the shock—and from another feeling he couldn't quite identify. A primal feeling had slipped into his body like the breeze through the dead forest trees. The feeling of a racing heartbeat and the overwhelming urge to retreat consumed him. That's when he realized it: he was afraid—Ephraim was afraid of his idol.
"I killed her.", Alistair's voice was cold and sharp enough to cut even metal, empty of emotion like a hollow shell.
"That... was the witch?…"
Ephraim couldn't believe it—the witch who could freely manipulate the weather, the very witch who made forests burn for days, had been killed by one man.
"How strong is he really?"
Before Ephraim could even speak, one of the knights let out a loud war cry, raising his sword high in the air, followed by other loud cries—cries of victory, cries of joy for returning alive, and cries of relief for not having to do anything.
Ephraim was still staring at Alistair—at his dead, empty eyes—while Alistair was looking at Agatha's head, the Sun Witch.
"…I can't believe I did this…"
———
Everyone returned to their horses. Alistair climbed behind Ephraim and said nothing the entire trip, holding the sack in his hand, until they returned to the castle. The wide gates of the castle opened with a sharp dragging sound as they parted, and everyone rushed inside, shouting with all they had to announce their victory.
Many workers and servants hurried outside, looking through windows and balconies, and the rest of the guards who had stayed training in the yard threw their weapons to the ground and welcomed their friends and loved ones.
Alistair jumped off Ephraim's horse while the latter stopped and let his horse return to the stable on its own, like the loyal companion he was used to.
At that moment, the palace doors opened and the king came out with his wife walking beside him, and his daughter, Ivara, walking behind him looking at the ground.
Immediately, the king felt Alistair's cold aura and looked toward him, noticing the sack he was carrying and his bloodied clothes. Their eyes met for a moment.
"…Thank God that this monster is on the side of humanity," the king thought to himself, then approached Ephraim and patted his shoulder.
"Well done. Expect a promotion for your hard work," said the king with a fake, friendly smile, then walked back to where his wife and daughter stood.
Meanwhile, Ivara's eyes were fixed on the bloody sack that Alistair was holding. She didn't need to look inside to know what was in it.
"The great Sun Witch, one of the strongest witches in history... killed? That's impossible... Am I next? Will he come to kill me next?!"
Ivara thought to herself, so anxious she didn't realize she had been staring at Alistair for too long. Long enough for Alistair to notice what she was thinking.
Ivara looked away, pretending to be innocent, turning as if unintentionally, for protection—but what could her mother possibly do against this monster? What could anyone do?
———
At night, a celebration was held among the knights. Some returned to their homes to celebrate with their children and wives, others with their parents or friends. Even Ephraim wasn't present—he spent the entire night with his fiancée, Arabella.
Alistair entered his room in silence, immediately took off his clothes, and stepped into the bath. He stood under the water as it poured over him like rain, washing the dried blood from his body and the sweat from what had happened. Then, Alistair turned toward a nearby mirror, and there he saw a purple mark on his chest near his heart, and he touched it slowly with his fingertips.
"…Will I regret this one day?"
———
Back to the time when everyone was still waiting for Alistair's return from the forest—before he came back—he was still with Agatha. He was putting on his shirt while Agatha had submerged herself in the water, bathing in the pool.
"You really are energetic," said Agatha from behind the rocks.
"…I'll kill you the next time we meet," said Alistair in a cold, serious tone.
"Hm~, you intend to meet me again~?" said Agatha teasingly, smiling lightly and seductively.
"T-that's not what I meant," said Alistair, his cheeks reddening a little. Then, Agatha emerged from the bath and climbed onto the rocks, wearing nothing but her long black coat that covered most of her.
"How cute you are~," said Agatha in a velvety, seductive tone—or rather a drunken one—with an addicted smile.
"Anyway, you'll get in trouble if you go back like this, so—" Agatha snapped her fingers, and suddenly red blood appeared on Alistair's clothes as if burning like fire before settling like real blood. Then a flame appeared in the sky, descending slowly toward Alistair and hovering in the air before turning into a bloody sack.
"I left a gift inside. It's supposed to help you," said Agatha, resting her head on her palm.
Alistair took the sack and opened it. His eyes widened the moment he saw what was inside, and he closed it immediately.
"…Thank you," said Alistair in a modest, shy tone, looking away.
"No need to thank me... but next time you come, let's have another sweet session~," said Agatha in her usual playful tone. Alistair left immediately, embarrassed by her, but guilt lingered in his heart for what he had done.
———
Back to the present—Alistair wiped the mark on his chest while remembering what had happened between him and Agatha.
"…I lied to save a witch... but I kept my beliefs... I don't think it will be bad... as long as no one knows."