Hate Me, Witch!-Chapter 177: First Meeting, the Beautiful Golden Elf Lady

Compared to Hathaway’s drooping ears, the onlookers’ ears were all pointed and long, indicating they were mostly only fifty or sixty years old.

"The curse on elven blood must be worsening again..."

Hathaway voiced a silent thought in her heart.

Fifty or sixty years old—by other races’ standards, that was definitely elderly, perhaps even the twilight years of life.

But for the High Elves before the Cataclysm, it was merely childhood, far from adulthood,

let alone being qualified to enter the Elf High Tower and participate in true Royal Court affairs.

Yet after the Cataclysm, the Corruption of the Fallen Sun not only destroyed the Royal Courts of the Ancient Dragons and Giants,

it directly affected the bloodline of the High Elves.

With each generation, the once pure elven blood grew more and more tainted.

After endless disasters and corruption, High Elves like Hathaway, born before or during the early days of the Cataclysm—

those with natural lifespans reaching over a thousand years even without cultivation—had become exceedingly rare…

Most newborn elves today lived barely a century or two.

Maybe a few centuries, a thousand years from now…

the lifespan of the elves on the Lost Isle would shrink until it resembled that of the humans written of in ancient tomes.

Hathaway passed through the hall, climbing the pale gray staircase, heading deeper into the High Tower.

She paid no mind to the discussions of her kin. Even with her perception, she’d heard every word clearly.

But after the Cataclysm, they were already many generations removed.

They had forgotten fear, lost ambition.

Forgotten certain truths.

It wasn’t surprising—

Clack.

Clack.

Step by step, Hathaway climbed the pale steps. The chaotic noise of the lower hall gradually faded, then vanished altogether.

She stopped at a certain level of the tower.

A colossal ancient door stood there, towering as high as a dozen people, vast and magnificent.

On either side of the door burned two ghostly blue torches, flaring to life the moment Hathaway arrived, illuminating the darkened surroundings.

The Golden Elf stood before the grand door, extending a slender hand from her white sleeve to touch the aged surface.

"I, Hathaway Zegin."

"Request to open the Royal Library of the Elf High Tower, in my capacity as Elder of the Golden Elves and the Ninth Seat of the High Tower Council."

"Duration of access: fifty years."

"Reason for request——"

"To use ancient knowledge to explore the depths of the Starrealm, seeking a new source-less power beyond our cursed elven bloodline."

"And with it as foundation, to search for a path forward for the Lost Isle."

"And... for the future of the elven race."

With the Golden Elf’s declaration,

the ancient door let out a thunderous resonance, its mysterious aura rippling alongside waves of subdimensional force.

This tower, once the center of the Elven Royal Court, had retained its mystique and transcendence even after enduring both cataclysm and time.

The Royal Library was one of the core legacies of the Elf High Tower.

Because of the now-fallen Elven King, the High Elves—unlike the Ancient Dragons and Giants—had preserved their lineage best among the Three Great Royal Courts, maintaining relatively complete traditions.

The Royal Library was an independent subdimensional space,

containing a vast amount of ancient knowledge and tomes that had survived the Cataclysm intact.

According to elven law, only elders of the High Tower Council had the right to open it.

However——

A few breaths later,

the ancient door did not open.

Instead, a crimson light flared forth.

Hathaway’s request to access the Royal Library was denied.

"I'm sorry, Senior Hathaway."

"Since you've been wandering the subdimensions and dimensional rifts around the Lost Isle for a long time, we hadn’t been able to inform you."

"By unanimous vote of the remaining eight Council Seats——"

"Some of your privileges as a Council Elder are to be temporarily suspended. Access to the Royal Library falls under the revoked rights."

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A voice came from the darkness.

It was a Moon Elf with long, pale blue hair, wearing a white robe similar in design to Hathaway’s.

"El. Frostsong..."

"Why did the Council do this?"

Hathaway asked softly, looking at the Moon Elf before her.

"Nope, that’s not my name."

"And I’m not even married yet—how could I have an Ice Elf’s family name?"

"If I remember right, El. Frostsong was my great-grandmother’s... or maybe great-great-grandmother’s name? Hard to recall."

"But whatever, ancient history’s ancient history."

The female Moon Elf twirled her long hair, giggling softly.

"As for the reason you’re asking about, Senior Hathaway——"

"Of course it’s because exploring the Starrealm is too dangerous. There’s no Veil for protection there...

just a little mistake and it’s like the old records say—madness and corruption."

"You going insane is one thing, but if you do, we’re the ones who’ll have to clean up the mess. That’s just... too much trouble."

Hathaway’s gaze paused slightly, then returned to calm.

She spoke softly, “Clearly your ancestor——”

“El. Frostsong, the former Second Seat of the Council—she spent her entire life seeking a way to resist the curse, to leave the Lost Isle…”

“She once told me, the future of the High Elves should never be trapped on this island without light.”

“It should be basking in true sunlight.”

“When the first Council was established, its very purpose was to consolidate power so that the elves could find a path forward…”

The Golden Elf’s words were cut off before she could finish.

“It was you antiques messing around back then, wasting hundreds of years and tons of resources, only to accomplish absolutely nothing. Not to mention the constant accidents. How many people died because of that?”

“Always talking about the elves’ path, the elves’ future.”

“The Royal Court? That’s ancient history—who cares about that outdated nonsense anymore?”

“Why should we let your strange obsessions ruin the peaceful life we have now?”

“Besides, trying to create a whole new power system just to resist the Creator’s downfall and the curse He left behind—don’t you think that’s ridiculous? That’s divine power we’re talking about!”

…

Not seeking a path of one’s own,

but placing all hope, all desire… on the continued existence of the Veil.

Is that really the right way?

Was the Veil, created by that Elven King, truly eternal?

Before those words could leave her lips, Hathaway saw that the Moon Elf before her had already vanished beyond the reach of the torches, swallowed by endless darkness and shadow.

Moments later, the ghostly blue torch flames went out as well, leaving only the empty, silent tower behind.

She turned slightly, looking back at the sealed, motionless library doors.

Thick layers of dust fell silently to the ground.

This library, which carried the inheritance of an entire civilization, had not been opened for centuries.

Clearly, even with the authority to open it, in the eyes of the current Elven Council, the knowledge it held was worthless.

And yet, years ago, the door to this grand library had once stood open through the night.

The elders had used the library instead of the ornate council chamber to discuss how to resolve the corruption, how to bring back the light, and the future of the elven race.

Hathaway stood in silence for a long time.

Thousands of thoughts ultimately became a quiet sigh.

Forget it——

She had come to the Royal Library hoping to find a method of coordinate positioning within the Dimensional Void, using inherited knowledge from those who came before.

Of course, without such a method, her objective wouldn’t change.

It just meant the risks would be even higher.

Her figure vanished into the depths of the tower, stepping into the ritual site she had prepared long ago.

By her side were stacks of thick books densely packed with experimental data,

along with intricate Holy Relics, ritual materials, and support instruments—all fully prepared.

Every single one of these materials was backed by hundreds, even thousands of attempts by a fellow Elven Elder.

Each failed attempt, each misfired ritual, each time the Void Rift was opened without proper safeguards—

it meant another High Elf driven mad, or directly torn apart and devoured by spatial rifts.

Only after countless failures had the research come this far.

Yet now, the descendants of those pioneers had denied their ancestors’ legacy with their own mouths.

…

She didn’t dwell on it.

Hathaway simply followed the steps, executing every preparation with mechanical precision,

steps forged from the price of blood and lives.

Then, in the blink of an eye.

Surrounded by Transcendent Materials.

At the center of the ritual altar, a pitch-black rift quietly opened.

It wasn’t a flickering, unstable chaotic rift that could slice apart anything in its path.

It had reached a semi-stable form, just wide enough for a single person to pass through.

Of course, without a positioning method, entering the Dimensional Void blindly meant she could be lost forever, never to return.

But at this moment, Hathaway had long since passed the point of no return.

She stepped forward, and her figure disappeared into the spreading rift.

…

Inside the Void, it was pitch black.

No landmarks, no direction.

Without coordinates, it meant losing everything.

Cold. Dark.

From time to time, spatial turbulence would manifest as razor-sharp blades, slicing into Hathaway’s flesh.

Her pure white robe was cut open, stained with red.

Some cuts were fine, with only thin trickles of blood. Others were deep, bone-visible wounds, bloody and gruesome.

Yet Hathaway made no move to resist.

Her rank had already reached Legendary—she was one of the highest tiers among the Nine on the Council.

And as a true Legendary High Elf,

“Golden Elf” itself meant an innate, extreme affinity with the gold element.

To chant in the Elder Elvish tongue was to wield Authority and Word-Spells.

With her level, she could have easily warded off the spatial turbulence just by speaking.

But she didn’t.

Because the High Elf bloodline itself was the target of the curse and corruption.

Ever since the Cataclysm, once removed from the protection of the Veil,

any activation of the bloodline’s power by an elf would invite corruption and madness.

And everything she and the pioneers had worked for—

was to sever dependence on the elven bloodline,

to find an entirely new system of power,

to pave a path forward.

A way for elves to live in this world under the sunlight, without relying on bloodline or racial talent.

If she used her bloodline authority now,

then everything she had stood for, everything she pursued, would lose all meaning…

It was unclear how long the drifting lasted.

Until wounds had covered her entire body,

until the once-pure robe was soaked red,

until blood loss blurred the Golden Elf’s consciousness—

She finally sensed it.

Amid the endless void,

that vast, originless energy—borderless, rootless, unclaimed.

“Not from the Creator, nor the Sun God, nor any divine blessing.”

“But wandering between the Starrealm and Dimensional Void, pure unowned energy.”

“As long as one understands the laws and principles of the world, this energy can be structured into a usable form.”

“And the power drawn from it… surely would not fall short of any god’s might.”

“Even the Creator who brought forth all calamity—would be no exception.”

When she truly, unmistakably sensed the source-less energy from the Starrealm drifting around her—

the Golden Elf finally showed a faint smile for the first time.

Only——

that smile quickly turned bitter.

Hathaway knew clearly—there was no going back.

Even though she had proven that everything she and the pioneers pursued wasn’t a delusion but a viable, real possibility, it no longer mattered.

No coordinates, no reference points, no guiding anchor.

Returning to the Lost Isle was already impossible.

The only fate awaiting her now was to drift endlessly in this cold void.

Until her lifespan ran out,

or—more likely—until she was torn apart by the chaotic spatial turbulence,

just another corpse lost in the void.

Hathaway gently closed her eyes.

Letting the raging currents of distorted space sweep her along the pitch-black emptiness.

Though she had left behind in the Royal Court complete records of her experiments and data—

If others followed her documented steps,

and entered the void one by one with full protection and proper positioning,

then maybe, her fellow elves could still discover the limitless treasure hidden within this void.

Only——

judging by how the current Council treated her,

she realized… that may have been wishful thinking.

And this treasure of knowledge—gathered through countless generations of Council Elders,

through lifetimes of crossing subdimensional planes,

through youth, blood, and endless time—

was now destined to be buried forever in this cold void.

“Did I really…”

“…make a mistake?”

The Golden Elf’s soft whisper vanished into the darkness, unheard by anyone.

But in the very next moment—

Hathaway heard someone speak softly beside her ear.

“Wow, this really is the first time I’ve seen you looking so miserable, Shī-chan…”

“No wait, we’re still strangers right now.”

“If it were me being randomly approached like this, I’d probably think the guy was just another cringe pick-up creep.”

A pleasant low laugh echoed.

“Alright, let’s do this properly.”

“Nice to meet you—beautiful Golden Elf lady.”

Hathaway turned around, startled.

Not far behind her,

a black-haired, black-eyed boy sat casually beside the cockpit of a massive metallic construct,

legs swinging as he looked at her.

He glanced at the surrounding pitch-black void and frowned slightly.

“For such an important first encounter between the male lead and female lead, this background lighting is way too dim, don’t you think?”

He took a twig out of his pocket and gave it a flick—

instantly, a silver-white blade carved it into a sleek, wand-like shape.

“Speaking of which, this should be the first spell in the First Era, yeah? Gotta give it the proper ceremony.”

The boy smiled, then lightly waved the makeshift wand.

“A wizard’s incantation… let me think, ah, got it.”

“Lumos!”

A fraction of a second later—

the pure light bursting from the tip of the wand

illuminated Hathaway’s slightly widened pale golden eyes.