Fortunately, Edma had now snapped out of her hypnotic state and no longer mistook Irina for Motes, giving Irina a bit more breathing room.
Otherwise, Edma’s next move would probably have been to unleash her deadliest attack, Sunflame Peerless—and Irina wasn’t confident she could withstand that now.
“Shut up!”
Having her real name called out repeatedly by Irina, Edma had gone from furious rage to accustomed irritation—or perhaps she simply had no more anger left to vent.
“Forget it. I never thought I’d get angry over something so trivial at a time like this. Was it your doing? But that doesn’t matter anymore. Undoubtedly, you’re about to lose. Have you thought about your last words? Or maybe you want to flatter me now while you still can.”
Perhaps not expecting Edma to regain her composure, Irina’s pupils contracted slightly.
But she quickly realized this was due to her own weakening power from exhaustion.
The earlier suggestions and the forced anger Irina had provoked in Edma’s mind had already subsided.
In fact, Edma had spent so much of her anger that she calmed down within seconds, no longer stirred by Irina’s words.
Irina pondered silently, no longer speaking, only watching the radiant crown above Edma’s head glow again.
In front of her stood someone who seemed condemned, like a witch sentenced to be burned at the stake in the name of extermination.
‘Not wrong, after all—I really am an outright witch.’
‘Speaking of which, how exactly did Motes manage to defeat a monster like this?’
As expected, there wasn’t a single straightforward person among those familiar with Tang Nai.
Irina tilted her head slightly backward, once again confirming Ye Wanqing’s position.
After sensing no sign of her presence, she finally relaxed inwardly, ‘Tang Nai and I are also quite close—I don’t think I’m much worse than Motes.’
“By the way, do you still want to know who I am?”
Hearing this, Edma narrowed her eyes slightly, then asked with interest:
“Finally curious enough to say? I want to see when exactly a character like you appeared among the magical girls. From what I know, the only B-level magical girl left is Motes. Didn’t expect you to be here too…”
“I never said I’m a magical girl.”
Irina interrupted suddenly, causing Edma to be slightly taken aback.
“What do you mean? You’re a Strange Person? Don’t tell me you’re a witch.”
A witch helping magical girls?
Who’d believe that?
“I used to be a Strange Person.”
“You’re one of those self-proclaimed Transcendents? Ridiculous. I don’t think changing your title can cover up your true nature.”
Edma laughed coldly.
Though she had stepped into the realm of the Transcendents herself, she looked down on the label used by those people.
They acted just like Strange Persons—taking whatever they wanted by force—but still wrapped themselves in a false, noble-sounding title.
No wonder they weren’t qualified to enter the Second Stage.
“No, back then, I refused to become a Transcendent.”
“Refused? You mean…”
Edma’s gaze fixed on the shadowed cheek beneath Irina’s hood, staring at her bright cherry lips.
A bad feeling rose in her heart.
“That’s right. I willingly fell and became a witch~”
This meant she could never escape her craving for dark magic, gradually becoming a slave to the power she wielded.
Edma couldn’t understand how this could be anything but endless trouble for oneself.
Even as a Strange Person, she felt fortunate that she hadn’t been chosen as a magical girl after seeing so many fall into ruin—completely lost within the Dream World, transforming into confused witches.
At least now she could maintain her free will, while the fate of a witch was to merge fully with the Dream World—losing emotions, memories, and self-awareness little by little, until nothing was left but enormous Ruins, heaps of treasures, and those Dreamswimming Fish that floated endlessly in the air.
“… You really are a complete lunatic.”
“Don’t look at me like that. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with my choice.” Irina spoke calmly, clearly understanding witches better than Edma did.
The fall of a magical girl into a witch wasn’t a surprise in theory.
In reality, all magical girls would fall eventually—it might take years, or just a few months.
As soon as they could no longer maintain their perfect image, the darkness swelling inside would consume them.
But in other words, a witch was just a magical girl before falling.
Irina lowered her hat brim further, slipping back into the familiar shadows.
“I don’t want to fight anymore.”
Edma suddenly took a step back, her words sounding unusually childish—like a kindergartener playing house who, upon learning the ‘mommy’ role was played by a boy and they were the ‘daddy,’ cried out, “I don’t want to play anymore.”
Yet she was backing down.
Facing someone as inscrutable as Irina, even without sensing any real threat, her heart filled with unease.
Most witches were desperados, and those who willingly became desperados were even more terrifying.
As one who wielded the “King Edma Dragon” power, the kind of people she feared most were desperados.
She had a bad feeling—if she continued fighting Irina, even if she won, the ending would be unbearably cruel.
“Now that it’s come to this, you can’t just show up and leave as you please, wanting to escape without mercy? Not a chance.”
Edma’s face twitched at the crude words slipping from Irina’s mouth, but she also sensed the rising ominous magical energy from her opponent’s body, signaling her intent to fight.
‘Damn it, there’s no way I can hold back now.’
“Allow me to reintroduce myself—I am the genius girl Irina, though those familiar with me like to call me—”
Irina’s pink hair shimmered with a dark purple aura that twisted mysteriously, as if every shadow beneath her hair concealed unknowable secrets.
“The Domineering Witch.”
***
In the blink of an eye, little Luo Jialan had graduated from kindergarten, meaning she would soon meet more peers her age.
But she felt that everyone around her was still a bit too childish.
Though they all ate, slept, and wet their pants together, Luo Jialan could tell the others were far more immature than she was.
For one thing, why were there still little brats crying for their mothers at the kindergarten graduation?
“Want a popsicle?”
“No.”
Luo Jialan pushed the popsicle Ning Xi held away as usual.
Cold and hard, no fun.
Compared to that, she definitely preferred something soft and warm—ideally pink—and even better if it could be sucked.