Hate Me, Witch!-Chapter 127 – The Time for Farewell Has Come

Chapter 127 – The Time for Farewell Has Come

Beneath the pitch-black night sky—

The Crowned Griffon let out a sharp, urgent screech, its massive black eagle-like wings pounding against the air as it tore through the skies.

Atop its broad back, Isadella gripped the Holy Sword. Golden light radiated from the blade, imbuing the Imperial-tier Crowned Griffon with power, pushing its speed far beyond its usual limits.

It became a golden meteor, hurtling toward the Valley of the End a hundred miles away.

“Ten minutes. Still ten minutes left.”

She looked up toward the direction of the valley.

Though she wasn’t specialized in perception or reconnaissance, and couldn’t manifest specific images like Tristan,

as a Legendary-tier, Isadella’s mental energy was strong enough to sense the general situation from that distance.

Just moments ago, she had clearly felt the aura of Legendary-tier combat erupting within the Valley of the End.

Cain… he actually managed to stand against a Legend?

The thought left her dazed, but also filled her with a faint joy.

Yet only a few minutes later, she felt that intense aura begin to fade.

Eventually, it vanished completely—returning to stillness.

And with that, a sinking feeling filled Isadella’s heart.

She knew exactly what that meant.

The battle was over…

Cain had lost.

Still, she clung to a sliver of hope.

Maybe Cain had simply escaped. After all, he’d already shown an incredible ability to preserve his own life.

Or even if he had been cowardly—if he’d chosen to surrender to Futigon and become that vile king’s prisoner—

it didn’t matter. There was still a chance they could exchange for him, still a path back.

As long as—

It wasn’t that ending.

The one Isadella didn’t dare to imagine.

But—

The next instant—

The Crowned Griffon suddenly halted mid-flight.

Then it let out a shrill, uneasy screech.

“What’s wrong, Griffin?”

Isadella released her Legendary-tier aura, forcefully calming the griffon’s panic.

This was the first time she had ever seen the creature that had grown up alongside her look so frightened and unsettled.

And then—

Isadella understood why.

She lifted her eyes slightly—

And saw it.

Far off in the heavens, descending from the sky—

a spear of light.

Zheng—

As if reacting to the complete unsealing of a fellow starforged weapon,

the Holy Sword in Isadella’s hand burst forth with dazzling brilliance, resonating with the distant meteor of light.

The final shackle and seal shattered.

She felt a surge of immense, blazing ancient power flooding from her Seventh Soul Pact.

A divine blessing, as if from the entire world, filled her mind and pushed her through a breakthrough—

Propelling her forward in one stroke—

right into the boundary of the Throne-tier.

She had arrived at the limit she had long dreamed of,

the goal she had pursued for years.

And yet, in this very moment when she finally achieved it—

there wasn’t the slightest trace of joy in Isadella’s heart.

Only a tightening heaviness that left her unable to speak.

She could only remain silent,

watching the arc of that falling star across the sky.

A Holy Spear launched from near-Earth orbit, using gravity as its bowstring—

It crossed the vacuum of low orbit, pierced the atmosphere and clouds,

broke through the barriers of the mana web and the laws of the Material Plane.

It tore the skies, summoned storms.

Falling from the heavens—

like a world-ending crimson blaze.

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And then—

It struck—

directly, flawlessly—

at its target.

Futigon, Flandre, and the tens of thousands under the vile king's command—

the army of demons from the Abyss—

in the Valley of the End.

…

Sound vanished.

Then color vanished.

The world fell into a silent stillness,

leaving only the searing starlight that erupted forth.

Light surged.

Light roared.

The torrent of light formed countless vortices.

Flesh, mana, metal, stone,

Abyssal creatures, even the strongest Legendary beings—

Everything—

before the fully unsealed Holy Spear, before the Tower at the End of the World that anchored reality,

before the storm-bound anchor that connected earth itself—

Everything was obliterated like dust.

All things were pierced, devoured,

swept toward the far side of the night sky.

Then—exploded.

The seal of light was carved into the sky,

illuminating half the night sky of Aisgania.

Moments later—

The delayed shockwave reached the wastelands from afar.

It scattered clouds, shook buildings, flattened forests,

rocked the earth, swept through all.

The storm winds tore away the hairband from Isadella’s boyish disguise,

sending her silver-white hair flying through the night wind—

but she paid it no mind.

Because within her perception—

From the direction of the Valley of the End—

Countless once-mighty auras,

the vast sea-like presence of the enemy army and demonic creatures,

melted away like snow beneath the descending light.

Thousands upon thousands,

reduced to dust in the wind.

Not a trace of life remained.

“The sword of Damocles… hung above the heavens.”

“Falling from the veil of the sky—”

“Divine judgment, frozen in time.”

Only now did Isadella finally understand—

the origin of the titles Swordbearer, and Sword Hung in the Heavens.

And Black Knight Cain—

Was the first of them.

The original Swordbearer.

Who, from above the firmament,

brought down the Spear of Judgment—

upon the vile king,

and the abyssal horde.

…

“What happened in the Valley of the End?”

“Did Flandre betray us? But then, what was that fluctuation just now?”

In the royal capital of Aisgania,

upon the throne, Futigon’s true body had turned pale.

He felt it clearly—

the half-body he had split off using a Holy Relic and one of his summoned beasts had suddenly lost contact.

In other words… it was gone.

But—how could that be possible?

Even if the Knight King had broken through to the Legendary tier, even if he wielded the Holy Sword and even if Flandre had rebelled alongside him—

his half-body wouldn’t have just died like that, without even a single moment to send back information.

…

A hundred miles beyond the capital, within the Church of Dawn—

the Cardinal's expression also changed.

Through his senses, he clearly perceived that the aura of the vile king in the capital had suddenly plummeted.

From nearly brushing the threshold of a demi-god—

to suddenly dropping back down to a mere Legendary-tier.

Was it a failed breakthrough? Did his mind collapse?

Or is he faking it, trying to lure me into making a move?

Just as the Cardinal’s thoughts stirred—

In the very next instant—

His gaze, along with the gazes of every still-awake soul within Aisgania,

turned toward the column of light that had descended from the heavens.

And then—

“People of Aisgania.”

“I am Cain, the founder of Xiao.”

That soft, calm voice suddenly echoed across all of Aisgania.

This was the hidden projection array that Xia Ya and the Xiao Organization had spent half a year carving across nearly every village and town in Aisgania.

Now, for the first time, it was activated.

And so, his words, alongside that divine pillar of judgment, were heard by every person within the borders of Aisgania.

“This is our first meeting, and also our last.”

Xia Ya’s voice was not loud,

but at this moment, it pierced both the stars and the land.

“What I want to tell you is this…

The era of chaos, the disaster-ridden world we live in, where people go hungry and war is constant—

it is only temporary.”

“This endless night… does have an end.”

“If this world has no light—

Then I am willing to burn myself as fuel,

To become the torch that lights this starless night.”

“This act of divine judgment…

is the light of dawn I leave behind.”

Xia Ya paused.

“Though I may die today—

The true meaning of the Xiao Organization will not perish with me.”

“As long as your eyes have not grown accustomed to darkness,

As long as even a single trace of longing for light still remains—

Then every one of you can become Cain.”

“You can become the dawn that lights this world.”

“One Cain may fall—

But thousands, tens of thousands more will rise.”

“So…”

“All of you—no matter what—

Never curse the fact that you were born in this era.”

“Please, wait—and hold on to hope.”

“In this pitch-black night—

You will never walk alone.”

“Always believe—

That something beautiful is about to happen.”

In the next moment—

With a ripple of illusion, like water—

Countless identical images were projected before the eyes of Aisgania’s people.

It was a dreamlike nation.

A land of ideals.

Orderly. Peaceful. Joyful.

Industry was highly developed—

Even the poorest farmers wore fine silk and ate full meals.

Illness no longer required begging the church for a priest’s healing.

Affordable medicine could be bought anytime, anywhere.

Even the children of the poor had the right to learn,

to read and write, and to receive a basic education.

And the children of Legendary-tier nobles,

if they committed crimes,

were punished no differently from commoners.

…

Standing atop the Crowned Griffon,

Isadella stared at a village projection far in the distance,

a bit dazed.

This land of ideals—

She felt like…

She had seen it somewhere before.

But then, in the next moment—

She heard the thunder of galloping hooves from the ground below.

“Your Majesty.”

Gawain fell from his horse, covered in dirt and dust, utterly disheveled—

but he still looked up at Isadella,

his face full of anxiety and unease.

“I found a letter on Lord Cain’s desk—one he wrote personally, addressed to you.”

“A letter… from Cain?”

Isadella accepted the pure white envelope.

Then, her beautiful eyes suddenly narrowed.

On the cover page of the letter,

was a single line of writing:

"My King—

I believe… our time of farewell has come."