Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

Wayne's panel appeared.

[Name: Vera]

[Identity: Villager of Blackstone Village (a sacrifice to be offered)]

[Actual age: 18 years old]

[Past: Parents died three years ago during a demonic surge, and the child lived alone. Three months ago, the child began talking in their sleep at night, and the villagers, using the pretext of possession by an evil spirit, sacrificed them to the "mountain god"—which was actually a tiger dwelling in a nearby cave.]

[Current state: fear, despair, haven't eaten for three days]

[Note: This village's sacrificial ritual has been going on for a long time. Every three months, living people are fed to the demonic beast in the mountains in exchange for the village not being attacked. The last sacrifice was over two months ago, and an elderly couple died. The time before that, it was a child.]

[Note 2: The villagers did not feel they were doing anything wrong. They felt they were protecting the village.]

Wayne looked up after glancing at the panel.

The girl on the wooden frame was also watching him. Through the firelight and the crowd, she saw the goddess emblem on Wayne's chest.

Her lips moved.

"Help me."

Wayne looked away and turned to the old man.

"Human sacrifice?"

The old man's eyelid twitched.

Wayne continued.

"They fed living people to the monsters in the mountains in exchange for the village not being attacked. This happened every three months. How long did this last? Five years? Ten years?"

The old man's expression changed.

How did you know?

Wayne did not answer.

He walked past the old man and took a few steps forward.

"Put him down!"

"Father," a middle-aged man said in a hoarse voice, "this is a matter for our village. You are a member of the church, and we are people abandoned by God. None of this has anything to do with you."

Wayne walked toward the man.

"Feeding monsters with living people, do you think the goddess would be happy if I encountered this and then ignored it?"

The middle-aged man's face flushed red.

"What else can we do? There are monsters in the mountains that come down to eat people every winter. We can't fight them, we can't escape, the church knights won't come, the priests won't come, who will take care of us?"

Some people in the crowd echoed this sentiment.

"Yes! Who's going to take care of us!"

"Your church doesn't care whether we live or die, we have to find our own way!"

"Father, please leave. Don't meddle in other people's business!"

Wayne didn't move; his black robes fluttered gently in the night breeze.

"What mistake did that girl make this time?"

Someone answered first.

"She...she's possessed by an evil spirit..."

Wayne looked at the person who was speaking.

"Have you seen an evil spirit?"

The man opened his mouth.

"N-I've never seen it before..."

"Then how do you know she's possessed?"

A commotion arose from the back of the crowd.

A person dressed in strange clothes squeezed out.

He had a string of animal bones hanging around his neck, his face painted with red and white patterns, and he held a wooden staff with a few feathers tied to the top.

He walked to the front of the crowd and his gaze fell on Wayne.

This is Moss, the priest of Blackrock Village.

52 years old this year.

In his youth, he wandered around and learned some tricks of pretending to be a god or spirit. After returning to the village, he claimed that he could communicate with the mountain god.

Over the past decade, he has presided over more than thirty sacrifices, feeding living people to demonic beasts in exchange for his status and safety. Before each sacrifice, he would hide in the mountains and wait until the demonic beasts had finished eating the people before emerging.

Moss took a step forward.

"Stop wasting your breath on him." He turned to the villagers. "The mountain god is coming soon. If he insists on obstructing us, then sacrifice him to the mountain god too!"

The crowd stirred.

Several young men looked at Wayne, their eyes turning dangerous.

Just then, two small figures rushed out from behind Wayne, Ella and Emma standing in front of him.

Emma stared at Moss, sparks flying in her dark eyes.

"You dare!"

Moss paused for a moment.

He looked down at the two girls who barely reached his chest, his gaze sweeping across their faces and landing on their hair.

His eyes lit up.

"Twins?" he laughed. "Or perhaps it's a rare hair color."

He turned to the villagers.

"See that? This is definitely a gift from heaven! They are witches! Sacrifice them to the mountain god, and he will be overjoyed. It will surely bring ten years of peace to the village!"

Someone took a step back.

"Witch..."

"She really is a witch..."

"The priest is right, that priest must be a fake. How could a real priest be with a witch?"

The crowd began to stir.

Moss took a step forward, pointing his cane at Wayne.

"See that? The hair color of those two children he brought is wrong! And who knows how many evil spirits are hiding in that carriage?"

Marco's hand rested on the hilt of the knife.

He moved closer to Wayne and lowered his voice.

"Father, there are too many people. I can only hold off ten at most. We can still leave now."

Wayne didn't move.

Moss grinned when he heard Marco's words.

"Leave? Sure." He pointed to Vera on the wooden frame, then to Ella and Emma. "Leave the mountain god's offerings behind, and you can go your own way."

Emma glared at Moss, the sparks in her dark eyes burning even brighter.

Ella grabbed her sister's hand and pulled her back a little.

Wayne raised his hand.

It is not a spell.

It's an illustration.

Then he took a step forward.

Moss paused for a moment.

He hadn't expected the priest to dare to move forward. One man, facing dozens of young men, and he dared to move forward?

"you……"

Wayne walked up to him.

Raise your hand.

One punch.

The fist slammed into Moss's face, hitting him squarely in the mouth.

Blood gushed from his mouth, and more than ten teeth flew out, landing on the muddy ground illuminated by the torchlight. Moss fell backward, his cane slipping from his hand and crashing to the ground; he never got up again.

Wayne withdrew his fist and looked down at Moss, who was lying on the ground.

died.

Kill him with one punch.

Over the years, he'd consumed many recipes provided by the panel, concocting numerous strange and wonderful potions—some for healing, some for strengthening the body, and some whose purpose he himself didn't even know. Since his body didn't experience any problems after drinking them, he continued. Even now, he had no idea just how strong his physical body had become.

Someone crouched down to check Moss's breathing.

The finger was barely extended before it was pulled back.

"Dead...dead..."

The crowd stepped back a few paces.

The young men holding torches stood still, their faces showing a variety of expressions. Some were terrified, some were bewildered, and some began to shrink back.

Wayne turned to Emma.

"Burn it."

Emma paused for a moment, then her eyes lit up.

"Yes, Master!"

She raised her hand.

The fireball shot out from her palm and landed on Moss.

The body was instantly set ablaze, flames shooting skyward and illuminating the terrified faces around them. The air was thick with the smell of burning flesh, and some people began to gag.

Marco drew his sword.

He took a step forward, the tip of his knife sweeping across the villagers in front of him.

"Who else wants to try?"

Nobody moved.

The young men looked at each other, torches in hand, but none of them dared to take a step forward.

Cries and screams came from behind the crowd.

He is an elderly person from the village.

The old people collapsed to the ground, pounding their fists on the floor, tears streaming down their faces: "It's over...it's over...the priest is dead...the mountain god will be angry...the village is doomed..."