Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

Wayne snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at the ceiling of the carriage.

Actually, there's a reason why he criticizes the world.

He had lived for over twenty years in his previous life and had witnessed many absurd things, but all those absurd things combined couldn't compare to the absurdity of this kingdom.

Can you imagine?

The king of the entire kingdom was a little sugar man.

It's not a metaphor.

It's a real little sugar figurine.

When he was seventeen, a message about the king popped up on the panel for the first time. Wayne stared at the words for a long time, thinking he was seeing things.

Name: Edmund von Wiggins

[Identity: King of the Kingdom of Wiggins]

[Actual age: 38 years old]

[Personal Condition: Congenital dysplasia of the tongue, mental age equivalent to a five-year-old. Incapable of handling any political affairs, requiring daily care from servants. Favorite activity is sitting in the garden watching butterflies, sometimes for an entire day.]

[Magical Talent: SSS Rank (Highest in the Entire Kingdom)]

[Note: His magical talent is frighteningly high, but he has no idea how to use it. Occasionally, when his emotions fluctuate, he unconsciously releases magic, nearly razing the royal palace to the ground three times. It was only through the combined efforts of great mages and their sealing array that he was barely brought under control.]

[Additionally: In his youth, he was prophesied to be a once-in-a-century genius magician, poised to become the most powerful king in the kingdom's history. The prophecy came true, half right—he was indeed a once-in-a-century genius, but also a once-in-a-century fool.]

This is the very person who sits on the throne.

He governs the entire country.

It's called "governance," but it's practically nonexistent.

The real power lay with the prime minister, the various nobles, and the church. The king's daily routine consisted of watching butterflies, eating, sleeping, and occasionally, unconsciously unleashing magic to frighten people. When important documents required his signature, an attendant would hold his hand and draw a crooked symbol in the designated spot.

When Wayne first saw these things, he thought they were absurd.

After seeing it so many times, I stopped noticing it.

A father who became a count by selling his body, a king of the Downs who sits on the throne, and a pope who, at sixty-seven, still likes young men.

This country is rotten from top to bottom.

So Wayne knew it from the beginning.

How did his cheapskate father manage to get involved with the Pope?

It's not because he's particularly cunning, but because this is the prevailing attitude among the upper echelons of the country.

Two more days have passed.

The convoy continued north, and the scenery on both sides of the official road became increasingly desolate. The chill in the air grew stronger day by day, and even fine snowflakes began to fall.

In the evening, the carriage stopped at a fork in the road.

Old Roger reined in the carriage and looked back at the car.

"Father, if you go north for another half a day, you'll reach the territory of Frost Town."

Wayne lifted the car curtain.

Two roads lay ahead. One continued north, leading to Frost Town. The other turned northeast, disappearing into the sparse forest.

"Which way does that road lead?"

Roger looked in the direction he was pointing.

"An abandoned mine. A mining team dug there more than ten years ago, but then the demonic tide swept through, and everyone died. Now it's a no-man's-land, where vagrants, fugitives, and reckless gold prospectors all hang out."

Wayne nodded and looked away.

"Keep going."

The carriage was back on the road.

Old Roger was right; half a day later, the convoy quickly entered the territory of Frost Town.

Frost Town is not a town.

In terms of scale and function, it is more like a city.

The outer area is much larger than a small border town like Adrian. The city walls are not high, but they are thick, clearly built to defend against the demonic tide rather than to protect against people. Outside the city walls are vast wastelands, scattered with a few wooden houses and tents, resembling an unplanned slum.

Old Roger reined in his horse and pointed into the distance.

"Father, that is Frosttown."

Wayne stood on the carriage shaft, looking ahead.

City walls. Watchtowers. People coming and going. And further away, mines and forests are faintly visible.

The reason why people come and die here every year, yet it has never been abandoned, is simple—this place is a no-man's-land.

The church's influence here is pitifully weak.

The laws of the kingdom are rendered meaningless here.

No nobles wanted to collect taxes in such a place, and no officials wanted to serve there. The only ones who could have a say here were adventurers, merchants, and mercenary groups who came for profit.

The reason is also very simple.

The Frost Mountains are rich in rare magical beasts and precious minerals.

Monster cores, pelts, bones, and blood; adamantite, mithril, and frost crystals mined from the mines—any one of these could fetch an astronomical price if transported south. Every year, as the monster tide recedes, large numbers of fearless individuals flock in to gamble their luck.

If you win, you'll become rich overnight.

If you lose, bury yourself in the mountains.

The church established a bishop here, ostensibly to spread the faith, but in reality, it was merely to maintain a symbolic presence.

Wayne looked at the distant city walls and sighed.

"We've finally arrived!"

Lillian got up and leaned out the car window to look outside.

"This is Frost Town?" She blinked.

"It looks pretty big."

Emma also came over.

"What a huge city wall."

Two heads crowded around the car window, chattering excitedly. Ella sat beside her, hugging her knees, quietly watching outside.

……

The Church of Audrey.

In the reception room.

The old bishop sat in the main seat, with tea, snacks, and wine laid out on the table before him. Opposite him sat seven men, all dressed in white robes and silver armor, with the Holy See's emblem embroidered on their chests.

Paladin.

Seven people.

The team leader was a middle-aged man in his forties, with a standard smile on his face and speaking politely and appropriately.

"Your Excellency, you are too kind. We are here on the orders of the Vatican to escort Father Wayne to the Holy City for further studies. May I ask where Father Wayne is now?"

The old bishop picked up his teacup and took a slow, deliberate sip.

"Father Wayne?"

He put down his cup and looked at the paladin opposite him.

"He went to Frost Town five days ago."

The paladin leader's smile froze for a moment.

"Frost Town?"

"Yes." The old bishop nodded. "The Southern Diocese issued a transfer order for him to take over as bishop of Frost Town. He left five days ago and should be arriving soon."

The paladin leader's expression changed.

The young knights behind him exchanged glances; some frowned, while others wore subtle expressions.

"Your Excellency," the paladin leader's voice deepened, "who signed Father Wayne's transfer order?"

"It was signed by the Archdeacon Casa."

"Where is the Vice-Bishop Casa now?"

The old bishop looked at him, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"It's hanging on the gallows."

The room fell silent for a moment.

The paladin leader's brow furrowed even deeper.

"Your Excellency, about this matter..."

"I only just found out about this myself," the old bishop interrupted him. "I was paralyzed for three years and only woke up three days ago. When I woke up, I heard that Wayne had been transferred to Frosttown, and that Kasa, who signed the transfer order, had already been sent to the gallows by me."

He paused.

"As for the Vatican's order, I was completely unaware of it beforehand."

The paladin leader remained silent for a moment.

"Your Excellency, now that Father Wayne has gone to Frosttown, then..."

"You can go after him," the old bishop said, "but Frost Town is eight hundred miles from here, the road is difficult to travel, and there are a lot of monsters and refugees. He has been gone for five days, and if you chase after him now, it will take you at least seven or eight days to get there."

The paladin leader remained silent.

The old bishop looked at him and suddenly smiled.

"The knights have come from afar; please rest in Audrey for a few days. I will send a message to Frosttown to inform Father Wayne of the Holy See's summons."

The paladin leader hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

"Then I'll have to trouble you, Your Excellency."

The old bishop waved his hand.

"No trouble at all. Someone, take a few knights to rest."

The paladins rose and left with their attendants.

The door closed.

The old bishop was the only one left in the room.

He sat in the chair and remained silent for a long time.