The Reborn Witch had a nice 'Tea Time' with the Dragon Queen today
Chapter 118: Tyrant’s Flame Called: A Handshake is all she needs

Chapter 118: Tyrant’s Flame Called: A Handshake is all she needs

A scream permeated the air in a graveyard where another past was visited instead of forced.

"Sheesh!"

Celeste leaped.

Slam.

A skeleton hand, the size of three Celeste, smashed tombstones and grey sands into pieces.

The spear warrior rolled and glanced ahead of her. A giant skeleton, its head covering the entire sun, its reddened eyes threatening with steeled malice.

Behind it was a skeleton necromancer, eyes glowing an ominous red hue, the same as the giant Undead.

Bam.

991 shot at the Undead’s eye...only to watch the veined bullet bouncing and falling futilely to the crushed stones.

"Report: Targeting the one behind first remains our only option."

"Say a more obvious choi-woah!"

The giant’s hand dug to their right.

Swing.

Celeste hoisted the spear to block, her limbs creaking against the gigantic palm.

"991!"

A shout, responded by a nod.

991 dashed past Celeste and between the Undead’s legs.

She aimed her revolver at the necromancer’s head.

Bam Bam.

Two shots, and a shadow veil coiled around the head like a cloak, blocking her shots.

She glanced down and leaped.

Crunch.

And her foot stomped on the exposed bony stomach, the shadow veil cowering away as she landed, her revolver hoisted for the final shot.

In that split second, a shadow hunched over both their figures. It was the giant’s palm.

Bam.

The necromancer’s head pierced, brittles of headbone fading into the gust as the giant’s hand was slamming down with full force-

Boom!

Light. A pure, thin light spear thrusted against the giant’s wrist, shattering it into ashes.

991 peeked, surprisedly, at Celeste’s spear, which glowed a radiant gold. The thin spear’s size was unbefitting of the destruction it brought, severing the giant’s hand cleanly.

With its master gone, the giant Skeleton moaned before ashening away with its master.

The end of 10F boss. Celeste’s brows raised as the rainy clouds began to clear, revealing rays of artificial sunlight.

"Whew... as expected."

Celeste stabbed her spear’s staff at the grey sands, sighing as she leaned onto it for a rest.

"Doing a <Divine Spear: Thrust> is tiring..."

<Divine Spear> technique.

The Waraker Clan, which lacked strengths compared to other clans, compensated by practicing the Divine Mana born within their bodies.

Their clan would have prospered into one of the strongest, if not for the Dragonsong War.

991 strutted to Celeste, frowning.

"You could have penetrated through the giant for the necromancer’s head, correct?"

"I am saving strength! For a hidden boss!"

A smirk curled up as she stretched her hand and tapped 991’s head. "In the past 10F, there used to be an unusual forest Tree boss I faced, until a black-eyed, mob-looking treant strolled up and attacked me from behind."

"Black-eyed? Treant?"

"Yep. You heard me right. Absurd, right?"

Celeste heaved a deep sigh, her head banging after the <Divine Art> recoil. "I almost died in that one. Thankfully, this time there is no backstabbing. Otherwise, I might be maddened to death instead."

"...inconsistency in a Dwarven Ruin....mmm..."

991 prodded her chin in contemplation. "I don’t recall our Dwarven Ancestors were fond of surprises. Their dungeons and temples were always... formulaic in their designs."

Patterns were different, but elements remained the same.

"I get you, I get you. Mobs. Traps. Last a Boss. Sometimes a hidden path."

"But never an intruder."

Celeste chuckled as 991 only scowled further.

"Well."

The spear girl sprang from the staff, brushing aside her black hair lock as she thoroughly enjoyed the sun’s warmth.

"Either way, hey, good job!"

"...please wait. I’ll congratulate you after some more thinking."

"Who in the hell would delay their congratulation like that?"

"It’s important. And related to"

Smack.

Celeste’s hand patted 991’s back.

"Praise. Me!"

The spear girl pouted. "Let’s leave all the thinking for later. Didn’t we work hard for this?"

"...I seem to recall we plow through to the boss arena easily."

Celeste’s pout only bloated upon witnessing 991’s flat expression.

"Unromantic..."

Celeste huffed as she swung her gaze away.

991 sighed at such a young girl’s tantrum, before she raised her hand and petted the girl’s head.

Celeste yelped a little before meeting the Android’s silvery, indifferent eyes.

The slight wavering on the Android’s white brows... told a different story from detachment.

"You have done well." She melted into the 991’s whisper, and her tender touch on her black hair. "I could have died without you."

"Well..."

The last one was a lie.

If not for the flaring heat on Celeste’s cheeks, words almost slipped.

She knew better than to break the atmosphere.

"You two seem to get along."

A clear, teasing voice echoed in the graveyard ruins, as an icy bird flew by Celeste’s cheek.

Celeste whined a little at 991’s retracted hand, before glancing over to the icy bird disappearing in front of the approaching couple.

"Watching us the whole time, Uncle Demond?"

"It’s a precaution. It’s not like you don’t know how paranoid this old man used to be."

The Witch sighed as she approached them.

Celeste shuddered a little. Somehow, her Uncle’s expression was sterner than usual.

"Any issue?"

Demond asked as she leaned in, her blue eyes glowing to detect any mana fluctuation.

"None, Miss Demond."

"Tha-that’s right." Celeste coughed twice. "None."

"Except... Subject Celeste didn’t mention the fact that she encountered a black-eyed treant and almost died because of it."

"A black-eyed... treant?"

The Witch furrowed as Adrei bared her teeth from behind.

"Uh... is there any problem?"

Demond gazed at the innocent emerald eyes, then the calculating silvery eyes, before sighing heavily.

"For now, stick with us the next time you enter the 11F."

"Uh... alright?"

"I’ll ask for the details on the way out. For now..."

Demond petted both of the duo’s heads. "Good job. Glad that you’re safe and sound."

The Witch’s touch was careful, too meticulous, as if worried her skin would prick at their hair.

The duo’s eyes met in agreement. Something is up.

"I know what you two are thinking, but don’t make assumptions till I explain."

Demond groaned, the immense caution against the <Black Flame> of the Dragon tyrant reeling her back. "I don’t intend to hide anything from you both, but rest well for now. I’ll tell you the details after confirming more things with the Shadow Tribe."

For clarity. For the loose hope, this is an overreaction.

Demond retreated from the duo, turning away before waving. "Now, stay close to us. We’re leaving as soon as we can."

The Witch would have preferred evacuating the entire premise of the adventurers, but she knew full well it would only startle whoever was behind the ordeal of the Tyrant’s flame.

For now, better to stick close and protect those you can.

Stress prickled at the Witch’s mind, before another warmth enveloped her right hand.

The familiar scaled skin tickled her heart at ease; the comfort of her skin against hers was too familiar.

"I’m alright, Adrei."

"...I know."

The scaled hand tightened. "Just want you to know I’m still here."

"...cheesy."

The Witch smiled as she faced forward.

She did not need to look at her husband.

Just their syncing steps in her ears was already a symphony that was a balm to her writhing soul.

Over fifty years of wars... countless deaths and losses stoked by the black flame.

"But all I need is a handshake."

To scurry away the regrets.

To sweep away the pained cries.

"So thanks, Adrei."

For now, each other’s companies were more than enough.

---------------------

Within the soil from the graveyard the four just left, an gauntleted arm sprang forth.

The gauntlet dug into the grey sands, pulling mechanically until a familar helmet emerged.

Sands flied up as the entire body crawled through the piles of sands, before its leg kicked them up, rolling the skeleton on its back.

The sun shone on the Undead’s empty eyes, not reddened with malice, but pure hollowness.

It once tried desperately to escape. Against the Witch and the Dragon, it stood zero chance.

And had they known that... flames called out to it from below, it would be captured alive instead of dead.

So it gambled. It betted against the Dragon’s instinct to end its life as swiftly as possible.

The payoff is successful. The 10F’s master is defeated, and now it is free to roam further down from the 11F.

But it is still powerless.

It needed more souls to burn as its fuel.

The armoured skeleton sat up, as it witnessed a familiar portal.

It knew not why the flames chose it.

For now... it could only strive to move forward.

Until the next and last death finally arrived upon it.

The knees creaked as the Undead stood from the grave.

And walked towards the portal for the ever-lasting struggle.

Each and every mob from 11F is enough to flick it away.

But in the end, no challenges were too much for the sword at its waist.

The Undying Undead’s resolve burned brighter than the black flames beneath its eyes.