Chapter 15: Great Witch (❌) Tool (✔)  

The label “stray dog” wasn’t pleasant, but it aptly described Eze’s awkward, unmoored situation—nothing to argue there.  

But how could Velrian, of all people, end up in the same boat?  

Eze steadied himself against the wall, his nearly exhausted brain kicking back into gear, then shook his head:  

“You’re not seriously saying the other witches drove you out, are you? That’s not even funny.”  

As mentioned before, Velrian, an outlier among witches, had risen to power by forcefully crushing all opposition. 

Plenty resented her, no doubt.  

But the sheer power gap forced them to submit, biding their time for a chance.  

In the Anlin Plain battle, at the critical moment, the other witches left Velrian to die under siege, hoping to use Eze’s blade to eliminate her.  

It backfired. Not only did Velrian survive, she came out unscathed.  

Meanwhile, the traitorous witches, in the subsequent pursuit, were decimated by Eze’s knights.  

In this scenario, Velrian could return triumphantly, reclaim her Great Witch title, and use the betrayal to purge her enemies, securing her position for good.  

How could she be homeless like him?  

Velrian gave a scornful smile:  

“Of course not. If those losers had the guts to oust me, I’d have wiped out their families years ago. As for the truth, why don’t you take a guess, Hero?”  

“Tch.”  

Eze clicked his tongue, annoyed at her cryptic game.  

Besides, the answer wasn’t hard.  

“Think I’m an idiot? No one among the witches can touch you. Outside the witches, in the demon ranks, who else but the Demon King could threaten you? You… hm?”  

Eze sensed something off.  

In traditional RPGs, the Demon King is an untouchable overlord, commanding absolute loyalty and wielding immense power.  

But in this world, it’s more complicated.  

Here, “demons” is a loose term for a coalition of bizarre races east of the Central Mountains.  

The thirteen leaders are the heads of the strongest tribes.  

These tribes differ wildly in appearance, strength, behavior, and ideology, with varying attitudes toward the Demon King and humans.  

Nominally, they pledge loyalty to the Demon King, but in reality, each has their own agenda, much like human nobles under a feudal system.  

Just as a human king can’t meddle directly in noble affairs, the Demon King shouldn’t have the authority to interfere with the thirteen leaders’ positions.  

So, theoretically, the Demon King shouldn’t be able to threaten Velrian’s status.  

Unless—  

Eze’s gaze lifted slowly, scrutinizing Velrian anew.  

“…Are you really a witch?”  

“Hm?”  

“What’s your deal with the Demon King? Or rather… what did the Demon King do to you?”  

Before the battle, Eze had gathered what intel he could on Velrian through his demon informants, trying to understand his soon-to-be opponent.  

Some of it struck him as odd.  

This Great Witch appeared out of nowhere five years ago, her past and origins unknown.  

Within two weeks of her appearance, she crushed the previous Great Witch with overwhelming power and took her place.  

The issue came after.  

The witches, typically reclusive and uninterested in humans, began frequently appearing on battlefields under Velrian’s leadership, attacking human territories.  

This aligned perfectly with the Demon King’s goal of annihilating humanity.  

Back then, Eze had a fleeting suspicion: was Velrian a tool created by the Demon King to control the witches and better destroy humans?  

It was just a hunch, with no evidence and no tactical value, so he hadn’t dwelled on it.  

But now, in this context, that guess felt significant.  

Velrian, questioned, froze for a moment, then gave a wry smile and shook her head.  

“Really, you figured that out? Makes me look a bit foolish for testing you.”  

“So?”  

“So…”  

The purple-haired girl stood, walked up to Eze, and suddenly pressed herself against him.  

One hand rested on her chest, slowly pulling down the edge of her black gown.  

The deep valley came into full view, and with their current position, the soft sensation flooded Eze’s mind unreservedly.  

But he ignored it.  

His attention was drawn to strange patterns.  

Like a spiderweb, they spread from the center of her chest—likely her heart—radiating outward, faintly glowing red.  

Confirming the sight, Eze politely averted his gaze and asked:  

“Is this a demon tribe spell?”  

The demon tribe, the Demon King’s race, were masters of both physical and magical arts, immortal, ancient, and powerful but extremely rare. 

In two years as a hero, Eze had never encountered one.  

He’d only seen this sigil’s design in a dusty book in a corner of the Holy Capital’s library.  

Velrian nodded.  

“Yes, a spell carved into me by the previous Demon King. Want to hear my story?”  

***

Five years ago, during the largest human-demon war in history, the conflict was at a stalemate.  

For millennia, humans and demons had engaged in “friendly exchanges,” brimming with martial spirit. The demon coalition was strong, but their gains were limited, and losses were heavy.  

For the Demon King, whose mission was humanity’s total destruction, this was unacceptable.  

So, he turned his attention to the witches.  

These mana-rich, walking nuclear warheads were the perfect tool to break the deadlock.  

But the witches were insular and xenophobic. No matter how the Demon King ordered them to fight, the Great Witch at the time firmly refused.  

It wasn’t that the witches loved peace—they just preferred academic pursuits over war and looked down on other demons.  

After several failed demands, the Demon King lost patience and chose a different approach.  

Thus, Velrian was born.  

For this world, Velrian had only five years of memories; anything earlier was nearly blank.  

When she opened her eyes, she was in a secret demon tribe workshop.  

Their craftsmen and alchemists had etched an ancient spell into her, one that could override her own will, forcing her to fulfill an assigned mission.  

Her mission? Become the Great Witch and lead the witches into the war.  

With her bestowed strength, Velrian easily defeated the previous Great Witch and took her place.  

As the Demon King planned, the witches’ entry tipped the scales, and human frontlines collapsed instantly.  

The spell’s cruelest twist was that it didn’t fully strip the host’s consciousness. It only activated when her actions conflicted with the mission, forcing her to do or avoid certain things.  

The Demon King likely thought a flesh-and-blood Great Witch with emotions would be more convincing and less likely to be exposed.  

For Velrian, this was an absolute disaster.  

The witches, who valued lineage and tradition, despised Velrian, an unknown upstart, even if she’d earned her place through strength.  

Leading them into war only deepened their hatred.  

Velrian tried to improve relations.  

With her talent, she single-handedly advanced their techniques, solving centuries-old challenges in days.  

To reduce battlefield losses, she developed golems—previously seen as inferior constructs—keeping witch casualties minimal until Anlin Plain.  

But these reforms earned her only accusations of “betraying tradition.”  

While they happily used her innovations, the witches did everything to make her life hell, with constant gossip and harassment.  

The barrage of insults and sabotage nearly broke her.  

And the Demon King’s attitude?  

Laughable—he had none.  

To him, Velrian was just a tool to control the witches, no different from a remote control.  

Did a remote need its own thoughts?  

Of course not.  

So, Velrian loathed the mission forced upon her.  

The more she hated it, the more the spell tormented her, compelling her to do what she despised.  

Kill the troublemaking witches and take on the Demon King?  

She thought about it, but the spell wouldn’t allow it.  

Tell the witches the truth?  

She tried, but the spell forbade it.  

End herself to escape?  

She considered it, but the spell blocked that too.  

Her only hope was someone else killing her.  

But even that was nearly impossible.  

Velrian’s strength was immense, even among the thirteen leaders. 

Back then, no human hero could match her.  

And if defeated in battle, the spell would force her to flee, making deliberate death impossible.  

Trapped in her own body, day after day, year after year, she played the farcical role of a Great Witch on the surface, a puppet in reality.  

Until four years later.