Hate me, Miss Witch!

Chapter 406 - 210: The Road We Still Have to Walk Together Is So Very, Very Long (Double - )

Whoosh, whoosh...

A sound of turning illusory pages arose.

Amidst the rippling subconscious ocean of the Spirit Realm, countless streams of information manifested onto the Book of the Spirit World summoned by Hathaway.

In the beautiful light golden eyes of the Golden Elf, the surging longing and emotions gradually subsided.

She slightly raised her eyes, browsing through the manifested information within.

"In the Western Continent, over five hundred years have passed..."

"To be more precise, it’s been five hundred and sixty-three years and seven months since the Lost Island entirely disappeared from the Western Continent."

"Truly, a long journey indeed."

The Golden Elf’s voice was somewhat hoarse.

"So—"

Her voice paused slightly.

Hathaway gently waved her hand, and the golden magical outline in the Astral Realm slowly faded away.

"Five hundred years have passed..."

"Are you doing well?"

Even for pure-blooded advanced Elves, whose lifespans can easily extend for thousands of years, five hundred years is an exceedingly long time.

Much less... for humans.

Five hundred years is already an era of great change.

It can allow a powerful Human Kingdom to rise, flourish, decline, and finally become a mere footnote in history books.

And if it falls upon a single individual, it can change even more.

There were things Hathaway didn’t want to think about.

She dared not think of them, neither did she wish to...

For instance, during these five hundred years, whether in the gamble with the Ancient Sun God, Shiayar had already been defeated.

Even swallowed whole—

Even if she obtained the "Secret Fire of the Magic Goddess," penetrated the world barrier, and reached the depths of the Abyss, what she would see might only be a grand ancient being with the appearance of that young boy.

Or perhaps...

The human boy from back then had, during these five hundred years, vanished along with his spiritual power and the Ancient Sun God.

The mere thought of this possibility tore at Hathaway’s heart.

For over five hundred years, she held on through sheer obsession for the boy.

She truly dared not think, if Shiayar was truly gone... if she would never see him again—

Then the perseverance throughout over five hundred years would become a pitiable joke, akin to that of a clown.

"So, you absolutely must win, Teacher Shaar."

"Since back then you took such a seemingly carefree stance, leaving behind such a handsome farewell."

"Then, please continue to be handsome..."

All around Hathaway, the turbulent magic flows all quelled and returned to the void.

She gazed into the depths of the Astral Realm—

Gazing toward the direction of the Western Continent in the Main Material Plane.

After a moment, she softly spoke again.

"Otherwise—"

"I’m not sure what kind of hideous and crazy form I might become."

"Perhaps like the story you once told me, turning into an evil and extreme villainous woman..."

"Thinking of using illusion techniques to brainwash the entire Western Continent, creating a ’world with Shiayar’ within an endless cycle of illusions is not impossible."

The corners of the Golden Elf’s mouth curved into a silent arc.

"You wouldn’t want me to turn into such a frenzied form, right."

"So, to prevent your beloved Master from walking that obsessive darkened path and turning into a fiendish bad ending, please do your best even in the Abyss."

"And I will wait patiently..."

"Waiting, and hoping—"

"Hoping for the moment we reunite deep in the Abyss."

A fair index finger swept through the void, and within an extremely short time, pale golden Magic Silk Threads outlined the contours of a phantom door.

And thus, the Golden Elf stepped forward into that phantom door.

Her slender figure soon vanished from sight.

Only her pale golden hair remained, fluttering in the Astral Realm—

And that final whisper echoed in the silent, desolate void.

"But before that—"

"Let me first accomplish your unfinished dream—"

"The dream named Wizard..."

"The dream named ’Supreme Black Tower.’

...

Outside the window was an endless snowfield.

Vast and boundless, the snow covered the ground, like an endless white ocean.

The silver fir forest stood firm in the cold wind, its branches laden with thick snow, the silver-white treetops shimmering with faint light under the sun, while in the distance, the mountains’ outline barely visible, displaying a harsh blue-gray.

The air was filled with a cold breath, the world was quiet and pure, with only the bubbling sound of tea boiling over the stacked firewood.

Shiayar sat in a crude wooden house built from logs.

Thick canvas covered the gaps between the logs, preventing the biting cold wind of the Northern Territory from seeping through the cracks.

The warm stove nearby kept all the cold outside this humble hunter’s cabin.

He stared at the steaming kettle for a long time, his mind still somewhat drowsy.

There was a sense of fatigue like after watching a very long, unbelievably long movie...

As if countless turbulent emotions clung to his mind, yet he couldn’t recall the specific plot.

"What’s going on..."

"Even though you invited me to your house, Shiayar, you ended up asleep, ignoring me."