Chick 346
by Cristae346
“…A little kid?”
Bailach arched an eyebrow, scrutinizing the bear costume up and down.
At his feet, On Groo stretched out her arms toward him.
“I—I am the Witch of Truth—!”
Trembling, sniffling, On Groo swung her arms desperately, trying to grab hold of the bear costume.
To the right.
“I—I am—”
To the left.
The soldiers, who moments before had been paralyzed with fear, now looked at On Groo and smiled as if nothing had happened.
To the right again.
“—a great witch!”
Wobbling, she fought valiantly to reclaim the bear costume, but failed again and again.
No blood, no tears—they said, and it was true. On Groo was beside herself with frustration.
“You’re a witch?”
“Yes!”
“You look like a very tasty witch.”
The man’s shark-like teeth flashed.
‘What?!’
Gulp.
On Groo swallowed hard, her eyes darting anxiously.
Seeing the child so terrified, Bailach cast her a bored glance, as if she had become worthless to him.
A witch, indeed.
Because of this little prankster, he had nearly let the soldiers’ spirits falter.
Now that he thought about it, he felt indignant—should he just eat her?
It was at that moment.
“Sir Bailach!”
Bailach raised his head.
Romellun, arriving at last, dismounted and called out urgently.
“Sir Bailach! She is, without a doubt, the Witch of Truth!”
He must have witnessed everything that had happened on his way over.
Panting for breath, Romellun began explaining on On Groo’s behalf.
“The witch saved our domain with a cure for the plague.”
Ah, that’s right—there had been mention of a plague in Silvershire.
Still—
“How foolish. How does that prove she’s a witch? Perhaps she just happened to have a potent medicine by chance.”
“Th—that is… but the witch possesses a mysterious Familiar that scatters contaminant creatures.”
As Romellun stammered out his excuses, On Groo, having swiftly snatched back the bear costume from Bailach’s hands and placed it on her head, spoke again in a dignified voice.
- Bailach Shadows.
Clank!
Chains instantly coiled around On Groo’s body.
“How dare you speak my name so lightly?”
Though tightly bound, On Groo, now brimming with confidence behind the bear costume, brazenly called out his name once more.
- Bailach Shadows!
This time, it was Bailach who fell silent at her boldness.
- Listen, Bailach. If you do not believe in me, I shall reveal your truth myself.
At last, a glimmer of interest flickered in the stars etched in Bailach’s eyes.
“Very well,” he said with a sharp grin. “Prove to me you are truly the witch of legend, not merely some petty trickster. If you succeed, I will let you go.”
The bear costume trembled slightly.
Not from fear, but from what seemed to him like mocking defiance, which made his expression sour.
- If you acknowledge me as the Witch of Truth, you will not simply let me go—you will have to grant my request.
Bailach let out a short laugh, as if to say, “Just try it, if you can.”
With that final laugh, tension settled over those present.
Whether they believed in the child witch or not, everyone fell silent and watched how it would unfold.
After all, it was a question of a child’s life.
Yet the little witch, untroubled, toddled over and picked up the white hamster sitting atop a bicycle.
- Look. I have discerned your power.
With a bear paw, she pressed the hamster’s belly.
- If you do not believe me, I shall show you directly.
“Myuuuu—!”
Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!
Within a certain radius, contaminant creatures were crushed flat, as if pressed by an unseen force.
“My god!”
“How did she—?”
The soldiers and Bailach, however, were not startled for that reason alone.
“It can’t be…”
Bailach’s voice was ragged with disbelief.
That unsightly hamster had emitted—
It was unmistakably his own gravity-manipulating power.
On Groo met Bailach’s gaze triumphantly.
Her eyebrows wiggled up and down, deliberately provoking him.
Meanwhile, the real Bailach, clutched in her hand, stomped anxiously.
‘No way I would be fooled by something like this!’
The Bailach of the past would never have fallen for a child’s trick.
‘Do you know who I am?’
No—now was not the time for smugness.
If he would not be deceived, perhaps he should use his power to escape with his master right now?
While the real Bailach was considering ways to escape, the Bailach of the past stared intently at On Groo, then muttered in disbelief,
“…To think the Witch of Truth truly existed.”
The real Bailach was appalled.
“Myu! Myuuuuu!” (Lies! Don’t believe this little brat’s foolish words!)
But Bailach was no longer joking. He regarded On Groo with grave seriousness.
- Will you now grant my request?
“…We return to the castle.”
If this child is truly the Witch of Truth… perhaps even his wish could be granted.
Bailach, recalling his deranged Monarch, lifted the child into his arms.
On Joorim blinked as his vision began to blur.
How long had he been here? In the snowy wasteland, he had long since lost count of time.
He could only reckon with the length of his hair, now grown long, that so much time had passed.
For reasons he could not explain, the only thing left to him now was the urge to purge the snows of contamination.
“Your Majesty, it’s time for your medicine.”
A voice whispered close to his clouded mind.
Drawn helplessly, Joorim approached and swallowed the proffered decoction in one gulp.
Wiping his mouth, Joorim once again strode barefoot across the snows in search of corruption.
He found a sprout pushing up from the snow and, frantic, tore at it with his bare hands.
As he staggered back to his feet, more sprouts had emerged all around.
Contamination. Here, and there—everywhere, corruption.
He stamped through the snow, rooting up every sprout he could find.
“Sigh…”
A long breath misted in the cold air.
At last, in a world white and spotless, he gazed up at the sky.
There had been something he was searching for. He was sure…
Joorim mimicked the humming that circled endlessly in his mind.
“Hmm… hm… hmmm…”
Soft humming drifted slowly across the snowbound expanse.
There was something, desperately sought—
But what was it?
The boy lingered before the door leading to the snowfield, hesitating, unable to open it, then trying again.
His mane of white hair slipped across his bowed head.
Then, creak—the door opened.
“Mephisto.”
“Elder Brother.”
“Still waiting out here, I see.”
He stepped quietly outside, smiling.
This was Cabalon, the second of Shea’s progeny.
“How is Father—or rather, His Majesty?”
“The same as always. He’s devoted to purging the snows of contamination.”
“……”
Mephisto’s brow furrowed.
It had been years since the Emperor attended to the world. Each day, chaos and disaster mounted beyond mere contamination—so why did he not leave the snowfield?
He was both Emperor and God. The only one with the power to watch over all things.
Could he truly be ignorant that the world’s despair itself summoned the corruption?
“More importantly, I have a gift for you.”
Cabalon began leading Mephisto away.
“What?”
Mephisto blinked as he entered the chamber to which Cabalon had led him.
It was filled with branches and roots of trees.
At the center, a sword hung.
Cabalon strode towards it and drew it from its place.
He handed to the boy a blade that seemed frozen from ice—utterly transparent.
“A gift,” he said.
“This is…”
With a gentle smile, the man stroked Mephisto’s hair.
“I hope this helps you do what you must.”
Cabalon was not only his teacher, but the one who had taught Mephisto the meaning of family.
…What do you mean by that, Elder Brother?
So Mephisto, feeling the words choke in his throat, could only nod in response.
“Clean this one up, and dress her properly—fit for a witch.”
Bailach, just returned to his castle, handed over the stuffed bear he carried.
The servants who greeted him looked bewildered.
“A witch, sir?”
But… it’s just a stuffed bear, isn’t it?
Reading their expressions, Bailach popped off the bear’s head.
There, a pale, delicate child’s face emerged.
“Oh my goodness…”
“How precious.”
Several servants exclaimed in wonder as On Groo, on the verge of tears, waved her arms about.
But heartless, tearless Bailach, instead of handing over the bear head, rapped her lightly on the head as if to say, “Try again.”
On Groo, nose high in indignation, wailed,
“Insolent! I am On Groo Cretaeto, the Witch of Truth!”
“The word is ‘impudent.'”
“Myu—” (The word is ‘impudent.’)
Bailach and Bailach spoke in unison, turning to look at each other.
“…?”