The demon realm housing the Witch’s Spire existed in another dimension—a space carved out millennia ago solely by the Dark Sorceress. Only those wielding formidable spatial magic could reach it.
As its master, Morningstar could leave anytime and appear anywhere across the continent. Yet teleportation wasn’t used lightly. Spatial ripples would alert powerful beings—especially the violent energy surge from crossing dimensions.
In the Northern Snow Kingdom, across endless white plains, battle cries cut through the blizzard.
“Damn! I’ll beat the crap out of you unless you’re tough enough!”
A burly knight in armor roared while driving his sword through a black-clad foe.
“Kaelan! Mind your station!” A graceful female mage shot him a stern glare.
They were Royal Knights of the Snow Empire, investigating a missing patrol. Instead, they’d walked into an ambush by the Cult of Darkness.
Founded by Dark Sorceress Leticia—not the ancient witch of legend, but the Divine Maiden of the Divine Clan who’d sealed her. Prolonged exposure to darkness corrupted her, twisting her into evil and igniting the Second War of the Dark Sorceress. Though defeated, she vanished, secretly building the Cult. Now, dark followers spread across the land—but they worshipped Leticia, not Morningstar.
“Pretty thing… I’ll turn you into a soul puppet and savor you slowly,” leered a necromancer from the cult, licking his lips. His greedy eyes locked onto the knight squad’s female mages, drool nearly dripping.
“Was it you who destroyed the mountain village? I’ll avenge the innocent!”
Brave words, but the knights were losing ground. The ambush had halved their numbers. Survivors clung to hope, waiting for backup.
“I don’t know what you mean… but if it’s evil, sure, blame us.”
“You’ll all burn in hell!”
“Hell? Ever seen it? I have. Curious? …Let me show you.”
---
Stepping from the torn spatial rift, biting wind hit Morningstar instantly. Even wrapped in a thick coat shaped from her black substance—a part of her own body—she still felt a chill.
A Dark Sorceress feared neither flame nor frost. This cold was harmless… just uncomfortably drafty. She squeezed her legs together and hugged herself.
“I’ll stick to real clothes. Wind on skin feels like running naked.”
“Brrr… freezing my toes off.”
“Master~ If your little tootsies are cold, warm them in my mouth?”
The Little Dragoness yawned wide, revealing two rows of shark-like teeth. Morningstar winced—*Will her jaw pop off?!*
“Pervert! Drop dead!”
“Master, why teleport *here*? The necklace’s in this country, but aren’t we too far from the capital?”
“Pfft! Capitals swarm with strong foes. What if I’m spotted? Play it safe. Besides… in the spatial channel, I sensed familiar energy—just ahead.”
The Little Dragoness confirmed dark energy nearby. Cresting a snowy ridge, they froze.
Hell unfolded below.
Hundreds of zombies and skeletons swarmed a battered knight squad on the verge of collapse.
“Why do those knights look familiar?” Morningstar murmured, the dream from last night already fading.
“Master! May I kill those dark mages!?”
Morningstar wanted to watch—but the Little Dragoness was already fuming, baring teeth like a stepped-on cat.
“What’s wrong?”
“They’re Cult of Darkness!”
“Wait… allies?”
“No! Total knockoffs! Because of them, dark followers ignore *you*, Master! They worship that fake Dark Sorceress!”
“Calm down. No rash moves.”
“Master, you’re *invincible*!”
Before Morningstar could reply—
“Who’s there!?”
“Us?” She noticed the old necromancer’s gaze locking on them.
“Seems so.”
“How?! I hid our aura!”
The Little Dragoness sighed dryly, “Master… we’re not invisible. Three little heads peeking over a snowy ridge in pure white? Anyone with eyes sees us.”
“Uh… TV dramas lied,” Morningstar muttered, scratching her head. She stepped out openly toward the dark domain’s edge.
“Run! He’s a Cult necromancer—he’ll kill you!”
“Hahahaha! No one leaves alive!”
“…Why does he sound like a disposable anime villain?” Morningstar thought. *In stories, guys who say that never last.*
“Silent? Scared by *my* hell?”
While she hesitated, half the undead horde charged her.
Morningstar stroked her chin. “What human tier are these?”
“Slightly above average? Been too long since I fought humans…”
“Really?” She raised a hand toward the necromancer.
Hexagram circles flared around her palm.
The ground beneath him glowed crimson—then a dragon-shaped geyser of fire erupted skyward. Zero reaction time.
Gone.
Only the stench of burnt flesh lingered.
Melted snow fell as warm rain on stunned faces.
The culprit? Morningstar clasped her hands apologetically toward the ashes.
“Oops! He died?! You said he was strong! I used a *basic* spell! Your fault for hyping him up! Sorry—I didn’t mean it!”
She shot the Little Dragoness a mock-scolding glance, then bowed deeply where the flames vanished.
