Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

On the other side, the Witch Cult.

These past three days.

Dora's research has been completely ruined.

The recipe for the awakening potion was laid out on the table, next to a mortar and several medicinal herbs. The pestle rested on the rim of the mortar, untouched for two days.

The notebook sat on the corner of the table, a thin layer of dust on the cover. The open page remained the same, with densely packed words crammed together. It began with "So that's how it is," followed by repeated symbols and punctuation marks, and the last line read "Something's not right."

If you really look closely, you'll find the notes are filled with densely packed words: release, collapse, happy, incredible, lose control, miracle...

The story begins three days ago.

After returning from the church that day, Christina, unusually, described in detail her experience of receiving water magic healing at the regular meeting.

Her wording was restrained, using relatively polite terms like "soul tremor," "consciousness blank," and "brief weightlessness." But her tone was off; the way she tried so hard to remain calm yet her voice trailed off spoke volumes more than any straightforward description.

That night, Dora lay in bed, rereading those lines several times. She was pondering a question: Were Christina's feelings genuine, or was it because her older sister had ulterior motives towards the priest that caused her reaction?

She thought about it for a long time and came to a conclusion:

You'll only know once you try it yourself.

The next day, when they were studying Wayne's magic again.

Everything is out of control.

At first, she was silently counting in her mind:

One breath, two breaths, three breaths.

By the fourth breath, she had forgotten what she was counting.

Because Christina said it was coming.

All she remembers is crying.

Dora's reaction startled Wayne.

Wayne's attempts to comfort him at the time had no effect whatsoever.

Dora didn't answer. Not because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't speak. Her tongue seemed to be pressed down by something, and she could only make some incoherent breathy sounds.

Emily saved her.

The shadow spread out from beneath her feet, pulling her into it.

Emily, who was helping out, was also accidentally injured.

The extra element seeped through the cracks in the shadows on the ground and landed right on Emily's cheek.

Since then, Dora has never left the house.

Dora was lying in her bed at that moment.

She stared blankly at the ceiling, muttering to herself.

"Oh, I see... So that's how it is..."

Clearly, the ultimate effect of water magic, in reality, points to one's own thoughts.

Being able to remove the curse was a cause for celebration. Her curse had indeed faded, by more than one shade; she had seen it with her own eyes and recorded it in her notebook.

But the body's sensations cannot deceive itself; the body's feedback and the mind's fear intertwine, creating Dora's contradictory state at this moment.

She couldn't be happy.

It wasn't because the curse hadn't been lifted; it was because she didn't know why she was crying at that moment. Was it the relief of having the curse washed away? Was it because emotions suppressed for years had finally found an outlet? Or was it simply because of... the feeling itself?

She couldn't tell the difference.

Another, and most importantly.

She felt she had let Emily down.

Meanwhile, at the Witch Cult's stronghold.

At the end of the long table sat a woman with silver hair draped over her shoulders, holding a cup of tea in her hand.

Lynette.

A third-tier witch, one of the most senior members of the order. She arrived in Frost Town even earlier than Christina, but over the years she hasn't been very involved, occasionally showing up at meetings to say a few indifferent words before leaving. This time, however, she's here.

She put down her teacup and glanced down the corridor.

"Still not out?"

Emily shook her head.

She was sitting upright, her hands on her knees, her gaze fixed on the wood grain of the table, not looking at Lynette.

It's not that I'm afraid.

It's because Lynette is too sexy.

It wasn't the kind of flirtatiousness that was deliberately shown off; it was in her bones. She had no manners when sitting or standing, she liked to drag out the last syllable of her words, and when she laughed, the corners of her mouth turned up and her eyes looked down, like a cat.

The woman, in her thirties, dressed more daringly than young girls, with a neckline that plunged below her collarbone and a skirt slit that reached her thighs. Her chest swayed as she walked, so much so that none of the young witches in the entire cult dared to look her in the eye.

Emily had spoken to him several times, and she got goosebumps all over. It wasn't fear, but an inexplicable unease.

Lynette smiled.

"It's like they've become stupid from studying too much. They've studied for so many years without ever experiencing joy, so it's normal for them to experience it for the first time."

She picked up her teacup and took a sip.

"She'll gradually fall in love with it later."

After she finished speaking, she looked at Emily.

"Aren't you right?"

Emily didn't answer, but the tips of her ears turned red.

"Yes, yes..."

Lynette's gaze lingered on her face for a couple of moments.

"Oh? Is that so~"

Emily knew about Lynette when she joined the Order. She wasn't just attracted to men, she was attracted to women too; you could say she was bisexual. Few in the Order who were even remotely good-looking escaped her notice.

Christina was led astray by her.

I heard that she's recently taken a liking to lolis (young girls).

Coincidentally, due to her physical condition, although she is already an adult, she can be considered a loli in terms of figure.

"I...I...I'm going to see Tilulu."

Emily quickly made an excuse and got up to leave.

He was terrified that if he woke up a little late, this woman would grab him.

Lynette leaned back in her chair, beaming with joy.

"Why are you running?" she asked seductively.

"I don't eat people."

Emily didn't turn around; instead, she quickened her pace.

Wayne was dozing in the yard.

[The Witch Cult - Gossip Special]

Lynette, a third-tier witch, thirty-five years old.

[Personal Image: Bound to both men and women, indiscriminate in sexual matters, the most skilled flirt in the group. But her track record is zero. Thirty years of talk show experience, never a real one. Every time someone takes it seriously, she chickens out. The last time she almost succeeded was two years ago, when the other person came to her, but she used the excuse "the weather's bad today" to send him away.]

[Note: She only likes to win verbally. When it comes to actually doing something serious, she's the first to run away. She's still a virgin, but nobody believes it. She doesn't explain herself, feeling it's more dignified that way.]

[Dora - Current Status]

[Note: She appears depressed, but she's actually reliving the experience under the guise of academic research. Her final conclusion is: the more additional water elements released… the stronger the experience. It's a perfect closed loop. It looks very professional, but it's really just a strong addiction.]

[Christina's Latest News]

[She's painting. She's locked herself in her studio and has been painting for two whole days. It's you. Not an ordinary portrait. She's painting a female version of Wayne, completely naked.]

[Note: After finishing the first drawing, she felt it didn't look right. Not that it was bad, but it was too beautiful. She felt that even if the real you became a woman, you wouldn't be this alluring. So she drew another one.]

[P.S.: She didn't know what she was doing. All she knew was that after the water element flowed that day, her mind was filled with these thoughts. She couldn't control herself; she wanted to draw, she wanted a little garden… This isn't her fault, it's your fault. Who told you to grow up like that? Who told you to have that kind of magic? Who told her to… never mind.]

Three sets of Bagua diagrams were displayed on the panel at the same time, from top to bottom, each one more outrageous than the last.

What else could he say but silently add a prayer in his heart: May the goddess protect them.