A scimitar-like pale blue moon hung high in the pitch-black night sky, its light blue moonlight spilling onto the earth, casting everything in a bluish halo.
In the western district of Lien City, there was a small tavern.
The tavern was bustling, a return to its usual liveliness.
Likal sat in the center of the small tavern, lavishly ordering a bottle of expensive wine that cost a silver coin, and began to savor it slowly.
He had long coveted the high-end wines drunk by nobles but never had the money to buy them.
Drinking the pricey wine, Likal felt utterly content, even contemplating singing.
His joy stemmed from having reported two damned wild witches that morning, for which the wild witch church rewarded him with twenty gold coins.
The two wild witches, a couple who had recently moved to Lien City, had offered much help to the impoverished Likal. But, what did it matter if they were damned wild witches?
Could the persecution of wild witches be justified?
The North Wind Knights, the elite of the North Wind Cult, acted swiftly, binding the two reported wild witches to the pyre by noon.
As the flames rose, the couple's expressions were filled with fear and hatred, but Likal felt no discomfort—after all, they were wild witches.
Weighing his heavy purse, Likal couldn't help but smile.
For the penniless Likal, the reward of twenty gold coins was a fortune. A copper coin could buy a large loaf of black bread, enough for a day's meal, and twenty gold coins could be exchanged for two thousand copper coins!
With money in his pocket, Likal naturally wanted to treat himself. Having no source of income and idling his days away, reporting a wild witch could sustain him for over a year. Why not report them?
Unfortunately, wild witches and heretics were rare, so Likal wasn't wealthy.
As for working?
Working was out of the question!
Likal was indulging in his drink when suddenly, a strange impulse from his stomach made him burp uncontrollably, accompanied by a small flame!
The entire tavern's gaze weirdly converged on Likal.
He had just breathed fire, hadn't he?
A fire-breathing...
Wild witch!
Realizing what the others were thinking, Likal stood up abruptly and yelled to the surrounding patrons:
"No, I'm not, I'm not one of them!"
But just as he finished speaking, he burped again, and another small flame shot out.
Likal was about to argue when a bald man sitting next to him punched him straight in the nose, silencing him with a blow!
Then, the whole tavern crowded around, punching and kicking Likal until he passed out.
When Likal woke up, he found himself in the center of the square, bound to a pyre!
The black-robed minister who had kindly given him gold coins the day before now looked at him with cold, disdainful eyes. A pale hand pressed against his chest, and soon a pale cyan flame emerged.
Then the flame spread across his body!
It hurt so much!
Stimulated by the intense pain, Likal jerked upright, gasping for air, only to find himself in pitch darkness, at home.
It was just a dream, Likal sighed in relief.
Then, who were the two people sitting by his bed in his home?
Thieves in the house,
What do they want from me?
Oh no, my twenty gold coins...
Just as Likal was about to shout, he saw one of the two, dressed in black, press a hand on his head.
The moment their hands touched, dizziness overwhelmed Likal, and his consciousness faded, sinking into deep sleep...
"How did he wake up... Didn't you say he was trapped in your illusion, Enoch?" said a young man with pitch-black hair and pale blue eyes.
He held a thick notebook and wore round glasses on his nose, resembling a shy scholar, if not for his ragged clothes.
He was Horn Maimherlin.
"It must've been something terrifying he encountered in the illusion, I only meant to guide him slightly," said a young man with brown hair and dressed in a black long coat, scratching his head.
He was Enoch Hare, a wild witch skilled in illusions.
As he spoke, he kicked Likal, who was sleeping soundly on the bed, and took his place.
"Let's continue with the experiment then, hoping he didn't see," Horn pushed up his glasses and said.
"In this darkness, what could he see? Anyway, he doesn't have long to live, so no worries," Enoch spat on Likal's body and said.
The two worked with various bottles and jars, and some strange powders on Likal's desk for a while, finally producing a small lump of suspicious red paste in Likal's bowl.
Enoch, holding the sleeping Likal's chin, poured the suspicious substance into his mouth.
"Done, a great success. If all goes well, this guy will definitely become a temporary wild witch by tomorrow," Horn wiped the sweat from his forehead and said.
"The fire-breathing kind," Enoch added.
This was a formula Horn developed based on a recipe he obtained from his teacher, intended to enhance a fire wild witch's affinity for the fire element.
However, the potion had strong side effects, causing mild burns to the organs, and even for a wild witch like Horn, drinking this potion was quite unpleasant.
For a normal person, it meant uncontrollable fire-breathing for three to four days, well, small flames.
For a wild witch, it meant minor burns over three to four days, but for a normal person, their stomach and throat might be cooked after three to four days...
So, for Likal, whether he was burned at the stake as a wild witch for spitting small flames or died from the potion's burns after three to four days, he was doomed either way.
Of course, if he had a choice, Horn would prefer him to be killed by the church, considering it a fitting end.
The young couple Likal had betrayed, who were supposed to become fellow wild witches under Horn's guidance, were burned to death before they could accept his olive branch!
In Horn's eyes, being burned at the stake was the saddest way to die!
Thus, for Horn, this man had to die!
It was simply a matter of blood for blood.