[V8C17] History's Greatest Evil

Raul fell into a deep contemplation after receiving Cyril’s threat of breaking ties: Which is worse, being hated by your friends or being feared by them?

Honestly, this was a tough choice. But if he really had to choose, Raul would rather be feared than hated.

Back when Raul had first become friends with Cyril, he treated a similar threat as a joke. However, a serious termination of friendship turned out to be quite a shock for the current Raul.

And so, Raul decided to portray the Thorn Witch for the first time in a long while.

Raul hated being feared, so he could never bring himself to use his full power in front of anyone other than close relatives. He always found himself holding back unconsciously.

Once, he had once gotten into an argument with his grandmothers over this, claiming that he could go all out if it was to save a friend. However, this was a rather hollow argument coming from Raul, who didn’t have any friends to begin with.

Thus, his grandmas gave Raul a piece of advice.

——”If you find yourself unable to go all out… then you must simply ‘become’ the First Thorn Witch.”

Since childhood, Raul had been forced to read the stories of the First Thorn Witch over and over again, until he was sick of it. And through those stories, Raul was subliminally influenced by the behavior of the arrogant, ruthless, and evil witch.

So whenever he is forced into a situation where he must give his all, Raul runs away from reality by ‘becoming’ the First Thorn Witch.

“Now, let the slaughter begin.”

＊　＊　＊

The wall of vines surrounding Raul underwent a transformation, growing thicker and more resilient.

They began blooming pure white roses so beautiful as to be out of place. In contrast, the thorny brambles underneath wriggled eerily with a spine-chilling fervor.

“Now you’ve gone and done it! This is all because of your unnecessary remarks! You fool! Nitwit! Imbecile!”

“Grgh…”

Rather than retorting Sophocles’s hypocritical complaints, Cyril prioritized distancing himself from Raul. However, he was forced to pause when a sharp pain shot through his right leg.

It was only then that Cyril noticed one of Raul’s vines entwined around his ankle. He felt the mana in his right leg being depleted at an extraordinary rate.

Within the magical battle barrier, all mana-based attacks will deplete the target’s mana. However, this was clearly not the only thing going on.

Similar to the incident with the peas, these vines were quite literally absorbing Cyril’s mana, and at a terrifying speed.

Cyril invoked an ice arrow with a shortened incantation in an attempt to sever the vines wrapped around his ankle. But one wasn’t enough. Only after repeating the same spell for a second and third time did he finally manage to free himself.

(This is completely different from earlier…!)

Previously, the vines had been moving according to Raul’s will. Once the wall blocked his field of view, the vines also lost sight of their target.

But these vines were different. Each one had a will of its own, and intended to devour Cyril. In other words, they had essentially been turned into a pack of magical creatures independent of Raul.

“——The human body is but a sack filled with blood and mana. My plants won’t mistake the scent of either.”

While watching Cyril struggle, Raul murmured in a singing tone. A cruel smile adorned his beautiful face.

(Who is that?)

Cyril attempted to take a step, before getting assaulted by a wave of dizziness. His remaining mana was reaching dangerous levels; he had spent too much time breaking loose from the vines.

Meanwhile, Sophocles let out a terrified squeal from his position on Cyril’s finger.

“Ugh, how could this be…? Now we are up against the genuine Thorn Witch…!”

“I mean, he’s been genuine from the beginning.”

“Take one look at that man’s idiotic-looking smile! How can anyone call that buffoon the genuine Thorn Witch!?”

Sophocles was being extremely rude, but Cyril swallowed his rebuttal since he held a similar impression of Raul upon their first meeting.

Above all, he did not have the composure to start a pointless argument at the moment.

“What is going on with Raul right now? Something is clearly off…”

“Hmm… He is most likely unleashing his full power by convincing himself that he is the First Thorn Witch. This is more in the realm of mental interference magic than mere hypnotic suggestion. The witches of House Roseberg must be responsible.”

The witches of House Roseberg——likely referring to Raul’s ‘grandmas.’

Cyril inadvertently furrowed his brows.

“But mental interference magic is forbidden under almost all circumstances…”

“Worship of the First Thorn Witch is deeply ingrained into House Roseberg’s history. Forbidden or not, they would do anything to preserve the original’s power. What’s more, those witches are cunning enough to avoid the law’s watchful gaze. I highly doubt they left any evidence indicating the usage of forbidden arts.”

So this was the horrifying truth. Cyril shuddered at the murky darkness contained in the history of the prestigious House Roseberg.

The Raul Roseberg that Cyril knew had always been carefree and full of cheer. But how did he feel about the family that would do this to him? Cyril couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“House Albright is quite something for engraving curses on their own children… but the witches of House Roseberg are no slouches either.”

As Sophocles let out a sigh, Raul——or rather, the incarnation of the First Thorn Witch——narrowed his eyes like a cat which had spotted its prey.

“Oh my, what a rare toy we have here.”

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through Cyril’s right hand. He looked down to see a rose vine entwined around his wrist. When and how did it get there?

Before Cyril could even attempt to cut off the vines, the thin tendrils swiftly crawled up his palm. Moving deftly like the legs of an insect, they skillfully extracted the Key of Knowledge from Cyril’s fingers.

“Sophocles!”

“Waaaaah!”

The ring let out a high-pitched scream with the voice of a middle-aged man.

Ignoring the pain in his wrist, Cyril reached out to grab Sophocles. However, the ring was quickly moved out of his reach and quickly dragged into the wall of vines.

“Black… I like black. You’ll be added to the jewelry box later.”

The Thorn Witch smiled as he lifted the Key of Knowledge and hooked it onto a thorny vine. Additional vines gathered nearby, until the ring was swallowed into the growth and disappeared from view.

“Sophocles…!”

“Nooooo! If I have to be captured by someone, at least let them be a well-endowed beauty…! Why… Why does it have to be a man…!? Ugh…”

Judging that Sophocles was fine without his intervention, Cyril turned his attention back to Raul.

The ‘Thorn Witch’ standing in front of him certainly looked like Raul, but this was a completely different person.

Be it tucking his hair behind his ear or adjusting the hem of his robe, even these simple gestures were feminine. He, no, she exuded the seductiveness of a woman who knew her own beauty and charm, capable of captivating men with her every movement.

Seeing the usually rough and crude Raul perform such actions created a dizzying discomfort for Cyril. Frankly speaking, it was repulsive and uncanny.

Yet at the same time, it seemed to be a perfect fit, perhaps owing to the beauty Raul inherited from the First Thorn Witch.

The Thorn Witch raised her right hand in a graceful gesture. For a split second, the sunburned hand of a man almost looked like the delicate and slender fingers of a lady.

“Now, have a bite.”

The nearby vines began to intertwine with each other, forming a small dragon. Cyril had seen something similar once before, a grotesque dragon made from rose vines.

The rose dragon before him was considerably smaller than the previous one. At best, it was about the size of a bull, or the youngest of dragons.

Cyril thought that he stood a chance, but in the next instant, the rose dragon had closed in on him with terrifying speed. It had been over ten paces away, but now it was right in front of him, already bearing its thorny green fangs.

Cyril instinctively thrust his left arm forward to protect himself, and the dragon’s mouth crunched down on it. If this wasn’t a magical battle, his arm would have been torn to shreds.

While enduring the intense pain, Cyril began casting in between stifled grunts.

“…Grgh… freeze!”

This resulted in an over-sized spear of ice shooting out of his bitten left hand. His spell had pierced through the rose dragon’s body, skewering it completely.

However, the rose dragon was still moving, and its fangs remained lodged into Cyril’s arm without any signs of budging.

“Is that all you have?”

The Thorn Witch merely scoffed at Cyril’s final act of desperation.

Meanwhile, vines extended from the rose dragon to silently wrap themselves around Cyril’s neck.

“…Ugh…Gah…”

The roses were rapidly devouring his mana, and he could no longer breathe. Cyril’s field of vision gradually went white.

＊　＊　＊

“Cyril-sama!”

Monica grew anxious as she continued maintaining the magical battle barrier. While this barrier had the property of nullifying physical attacks within its bounds, there were some loopholes.

For example, constricting a foe with rose vines was recognized as a binding spell, allowing it to work inside the physical nullification field.

If Raul were in his usual state of mind, he would make sure to avoid injuring Cyril. But the current Raul showed no such mercy. At this rate, Cyril would eventually die from suffocation.

(I need to do something… but what…?)

If Monica wanted to save Cyril, she first needed to disengage the magical battle barrier. However, Cyril’s throat would get impaled by the thorny vines the second the barrier was gone.

(What do I do…!?)

As Monica only grew more and more panicked, she noticed Isaac tapping her shoulder.

“…Ike?”

Isaac put his index finger to his lips, gesturing to stay quiet. Then, he pointed his finger at the tree behind Cyril.

There, atop one of the tree’s branches, stood two weasels, one with golden fur and one with white fur. Without making a sound, they leapt into action.

＊　＊　＊

(I’ve… lost…?)

Cyril’s arms lost their strength and fell limp as the thorny vines strangled him.

“I told you it was reckless.”

The emotionless voice of a woman echoed from behind him.

Before Cyril could recognize the voice’s owner, an exquisite sword of ice danced through the air, slicing through both the rose dragon and the vines entwining Cyril’s neck.

He had required several attempts to sever a single vine, and yet now the entire cluster crumpled apart like paper.

The freed Cyril nearly collapsed to the ground, but someone caught his limp body. In the periphery of his vision, Cyril saw a few strands of silvery-white hair.

“You know, Cyril, your mana is currently my lifeline. I can’t just stand by and watch if you’re in trouble.”

Cyril raised his heavy eyelids to see a young man carrying him on his back, and a blonde woman with cold eyes standing beside him.

He attempted to call out to Thule and Pikeh, but before he could, Pikeh directed her attention towards the mass of vines that had swallowed the Key of Knowledge.

“That ring is the root of all evil… We should just destroy it.”

“How dare you, Ice Spirit! I am an artifact! An ancient artifact, you hear me!”

Sophocles shouted back from within the overgrowth, to which Pikeh responded with utmost coldness.

“Human affairs or ancient artifacts or whatever, none of that matters to me. I just want to live quietly with Thule. If anyone interferes… I will eliminate them.”

“Pikeh, Pikeh, there’s something we have to do first,” Thule interjected, turning his eyes toward the Man-Eating Rose Fortress blocking their path, and the Thorn Witch controlling it.

The mass of vines had continued growing during the short conversation, forming a small castle-like structure.

Moreover, a few green clumps had intertwined to create thirty humanoid figures. Each of these so-called ‘rose soldiers’ were equipped with thorny arms as sharp as spears.

“Wow. There’s a lot of them now,” Thule commented casually.

In contrast, the Thorn Witch narrowed her eyes slightly, glowering back at Thule.

“…If it isn’t my archnemesis, the loathsome white dragon. I’ll extract every last drop of blood from your fragile body.”

Her green eyes glared at Thule with pure disgust. For some reason, she held more bloodlust for Thule, who hadn’t done anything, than Pikeh, the spirit who cut through her vines.

(Does the First Thorn Witch have some kind of grudge against a white dragon?)

As Cyril pondered this mystery, Pikeh took a step forward and swung her hand.

This gesture was followed by a swarm of ice daggers appearing in midair. She had created fifty in total, and each one was as beautiful as a handcrafted sculpture.

With her overwhelming power on full display, the Ice Spirit Ashelpikeh made her declaration.

“You will not lay a single finger on Thule. Or Cyril either. The ring is whatever.”

“You certainly talk big, Ice Spirit… But in the end, you are nothing but nourishment for my roses.”

The vines began growing even further, extending from the Rose Fortress to intertwine into the shape of the dragon. Not one, but ten of them.

Even a single one posed a threat, but now, Cyril and the others were surrounded by ten rose dragons and thirty rose soldiers. What’s more, their ranks only continued to multiply.

The Thorn Witch raised her staff with a sadistic grin.

“Now, feast upon them.”

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