Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

Wayne looked at the woman blocking his way.

Sophie stood barefoot in the doorway, the "painful" expression still lingering on her face, but the look in her eyes had changed.

"How can you, a priest, not be dedicated to your profession?"

When Hena said this, there was a strange sense of self-righteousness in her tone. It was as if being abruptly stopped halfway through an exorcism was an insult to her.

Wayne was stunned for a moment.

When does it become the devil's place to judge whether a priest is dedicated or not during an exorcism?

He glanced at her sideways.

How dare you say that?

Hena was speechless at that look. She opened her mouth, wanting to retort, but for a moment she didn't know what to say. Because, judging from the current situation, she wasn't exactly a dedicated and good demon either.

The panel popped up at this point.

[A Brief Explanation of Possession by Abyssal Demons]

Demons possess humans not merely to seize their bodies. Their senses are inherently dulled. To them, life in the abyss is like looking through a thick layer of frosted glass. They understand the concepts of joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness, but they cannot experience them.

Possession is the only way out. The human body amplifies their senses, allowing them to experience pain, itchiness, and pleasure for the first time. This is why high-ranking demons are so eager to possess humans—not for power, but for the thrill.

Hena has lived for four hundred years; she has tasted a thousand kinds of pain and experienced ten thousand kinds of fear. But when your magical element flowed through her just now, she felt something she had never felt before. She doesn't know what it's called, but she wants more.

[Note: So Hena panicked.]

Wayne looked at the panel and fell silent.

Slowed perception?

So that attack just now, for a demon who hadn't felt anything for four hundred years, was indeed a bit...

Stimulate!

Hena stood in the doorway, her bare feet on the cold stone slabs, her chest still heaving. She didn't know why Wayne had stopped, but she knew she didn't want him to leave.

"Since you insist on leaving," she said, her voice lower than before, "then let's each take a step back."

Wayne looked at her.

"What do you mean by 'taking a step back'?"

Hena seemed to be organizing her thoughts.

"You enter the dream, and we each follow our own process."

Wayne frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"You want to expel me, right? I want to stay here, right?" Hena explained, "Then let's do it the way it is. You go into her dream and expel me from there. I'll stay in her body and resist you in reality. Whoever wins gets to decide."

Wayne didn't say anything.

Hena took half a step back, making room for the exit.

"How about it? Do you dare?"

The panel popped up again.

[Hena's Proposal: In-Depth Analysis]

She needs your continued treatment. Not for any other reason than that feeling. For four hundred years, she had never known that "feeling" could be like that. It wasn't pain, itching, hot or cold... she couldn't describe it, she was simply amazed.

But she wouldn't admit it; her demonic pride wouldn't allow her to ask a human for help. So she came up with a high-sounding reason: "Let's compromise," "Let's follow the procedure." It was as if she were the one forced to cooperate.

[Note: She didn't even know what "that feeling" was called. The word "comfortable" wasn't in her vocabulary, and she didn't know what "pleasure" meant. All she knew was that that moment was the best thing she'd ever experienced in her four hundred years of demonic life.]

[P.S.: When you stopped, she almost begged you to continue. Almost. This was her final limit.]

Wayne looked at her.

She tried hard to maintain that "I don't care" expression, but she forgot that she was now in a human body. This body would betray all her pretense; her eyelashes trembled, her fingers trembled, even her breathing trembled.

Wayne suddenly felt like sighing.

A high-ranking demon who has lived for four hundred years can't even lie. Just how boring is the Abyss that it could raise a demon like this?

"Okay," he said.

Hena was taken aback.

"What should I do?"

"Entering a dream?"

"You agreed?"

"Um."

"You... you just agreed like that?"

Wayne looked at her.

"You don't want me to agree?"

"I want to!" The word came out so quickly that she was startled for a moment. She lowered her voice and forced back into a negotiating posture, "I mean... yes."

Wayne reached out and grasped her wrist.

Hena's breath caught in her throat for a moment.

"What are you doing?"

Wayne didn't answer. He grasped her right arm, pushed it upwards, and with a snap, the dislocated joint returned to its original position. Then he did the same to her left arm, with the same movement and the same sound.

Hena stood there, her arms hanging down again, now able to move. She looked down at her hands, then looked up at Wayne.

"you……"

"Dislocated joints will damage your body if left untreated for a long time." Wayne released his grip and took a step back. "This body still needs to be returned to its owner."

Hena opened her mouth, but no words came out.

She had lived for four hundred years, and this was the first time someone had taken the initiative to care about her, especially a priest.

"Where is the dream?" Wayne's voice rang out.

"Where is the dream?"

Hena turned her head and glanced at the bed.

"Here. Lie down, I'll take you inside."

After saying that, she pulled out a wooden stick with rivets from somewhere, weighed it in her hand, and gestured towards the back of Wayne's head.

"Don't move, it'll be over in a second."

Wayne looked at her.

"What are you doing?"

"I'll knock you out," Hena said matter-of-factly. "How can I enter the dream if I don't faint?"

Wayne was silent for a moment.

"Need not."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small porcelain bottle, uncorked it, and tilted his head back to take a swig. The medicine slid down his throat, cool and refreshing, with a herbal taste.

"What are you drinking?" Hena leaned closer and sniffed.

Sleeping pills.

"Sleeping pills?" Hena's expression was somewhat subtle.

"A priest carrying sleeping pills with him?"

Wayne did not answer.

He lay down on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes.

Hena tossed the wooden stick aside and lay down next to him. The bed wasn't big, and their shoulders touched; they could feel each other's body heat. She glanced at him sideways, then quickly turned back.

"Don't move around," she said.

"I didn't move."

"I mean in a dream."

"Um."

"What I say goes."

"OK."

Half an hour later, Wayne's breathing became even and long.

Hena closed her eyes.

Consciousness sinks.

When he opened his eyes again, Wayne was standing in a thick fog.

The fog was pink, so thick that you could hardly see your hand in front of your face. The air was filled with a sweet, cloying fragrance, like an overturned bottle of perfume, or like hundreds of flowers rotting at the same time.

He looked down at himself. He was still wearing that black robe, but now the edges were embroidered with gold patterns, making it far more ornate than his usual attire. A silver holy emblem was pinned to his chest, glowing faintly in the mist like a small lamp.

The panel popped up.

【Dream Space: Sophie's World of Consciousness】

[Current Area: Labyrinth of Desire. Formed by the intertwining of Hena's nightmare power and Sophie's subconscious.]

[Note: Simply put, this is the demon Hena's mental realm. She didn't know how to describe the feeling, so she just piled in every "good thing" she could think of: flowers, perfume, pink, and soft, fluffy things. This was the highest level of hospitality she could offer, even though it looked like a madam's bedroom.]