Andrew Shillington, or Young Master Andrew as the masses knew him as knelt before the transportation formation in a secret basement that didn’t appear on any architect’s plan within the dungeon city. He had been kneeling for hours, a testament to the degree of anger his overlords wanted to demonstrate. Truly, capturing the Witch should have been no more difficult than bagging a pheasant but fate was fickle. Even his own Eyes of Purity could barely detect the woman’s outline as whatever unclean Ritual she used made attention slide from her like water from a duck’s feathers. Even as a transmigrator Andrew had long found that life wasn’t all beautiful women and delicious wine.

How come the books never mention how even with a Goldfinger, one’s family can still drag you down? Andrew thought with anger. Just because the Shillington’s have been members of the Witch Hunters for generations doesn’t mean we should subscribe in my generation too!

Reporting that to his superiors in the semi-cult had not gone over well. If the Color Coven had developed a method of stealth so effective as what he had been subjected to, Young Master Andrew had little doubt war was on the horizon. None of the major powers could allow a singular ruler to rise above the others. A delicate balance had been achieved after almost two millennia of conflict.

The problem with Witches was, they were varied. Not merely strong, the female casters branched into numerous methods for accumulating power. The rarity of the Race known as Witch created a naturally tight bond of sisterhood against the hostile forces of the world. While he hadn’t been able to Spot her effectively, Andrew knew that the Witch in the city currently was unaligned. Witches or more specifically unaligned ones were the holy grail of the Color Coven Alliance. Black, Red, Blue, Green, White, Purple, Grey, even Rogues were part of the Covens. It didn’t hurt that most Witches shared complementary specialties that compounded their power. Blacks were precision Curse-makers and cold-eyed killers. The Witch Hunters had lost the most to those devil-hearted women. Reds were perfect bakers, no matter the meal’s meat. Quite a few people didn’t understand that meat pies didn’t mean monster meat in some cases. Blues were disgusting doppelgangers, copying their food supply. More than once the Witch Hunters had to develop new methods of detection to prevent a massacre. Greens grew the specialty spices, along with select drugs for distribution. Even the youngest Witch Hunter knew the tales of entire dynasties held helpless in the grip of their pleasure drugs. Whites were the only Witches allowed to live due to how they handled the healing of drug users, poisoned princes, and other riff-raff. It wouldn’t do for organizations that hunted Witches to be bogged down with petty meaningless healing for the masses. Purples were another branch of infiltration specialists who had no compunction about seducing a few emperors to change laws to a Coven’s benefit. They were perhaps the highest in terms of damage to the organization, but weakest in direct combat power. Lastly, the Greys were the least known, but the Witch Hunters knew they seemed to be hidden murky cleaners that solve messes made by all the other Colors.

The problem is, the Aura of the woman in the market wasn’t any of those Colors. Andrew thought as the transportation circle began to finally light up. It was pure blessed Silver a Color that doesn’t exist. I told them but no one believes me. Frustration tinged his thoughts even as his face smoothed into an impassive mask.

In a flicker of blinding light, the transportation formation activated pulling Witch Hunters from another location across a vast distance into the hidden basement. When the light ended two standardized teams of the Witch Hunters were visible. Andrew focused on the two Commander-Class Hunters separate from the teams. He rose and bowed deeply to the Commanders before saying, “Greetings, Elders. I am Andrew Shillington, how may I serve?”

“Greetings little brother. This old bat is Amos, and my handsome face belongs to the name Richard.” the younger Commander said with a smile even as his older counterpart merely grunted with suspicious eyes.

“Where’s the Witch?” Amos asked without preamble as he stared hard at Andrew.

“Currently within the dungeon city, that’s the most we can determine. I have spent three Diviners to confirm it. Her protections against the Sight are extensive and none of those who attempted to find her will recover.” Andrew answered with a respectful tone. It wouldn’t do to irritate people that could squash him the way someone stepped on a particularly irritating bug.

Amos and Richard glanced at each other, their eyes serious. The power of a Witch that could counter Sight had to be at least at their own level if not higher. Andrew had little doubt the Council hadn’t bothered to provide accurate intelligence to these men. That was why he had slipped this tidbit in. Charging in was all well and good against Tier Fives who were just learning their powers. Doing so against wily old women who might have been alive for centuries wasn’t courting death, it was bathing in acid before rolling in salt.

Amos turned to a member of his team wrapped in a robe before asking, “Will you be able to Suppress her, Mikhael?”

“A minute if she is equal to you Elder, perhaps twenty to thirty seconds otherwise,” Mikhael said after considering. Suppression was the reason Witch Hunters were able to kill Witches effectively. By preventing active mana-fueled effects in a specific area a major portion of the enemy’s power was cut off. Seer, Suppressor, and Hunter were the trinity of the Witch Hunter’s success.

See the Witch.

Suppress the Witch.

Hunt the Witch to death.

Although in exchange for such specialization the Order is weak against almost anything else. Andrew thought derisively looking at the four Guardians that had accompanied the Hunting teams. Two Guardians per hunting team, all to protect those who can’t protect themselves. Even more pathetic they act as if this is for justice when even I can see they shouldn’t be called Hunters, but instead Harvesters.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Andrew was no ignorant child of this world after all. He knew well that after a Hunt mysterious items would be crafted imbued with the power of the Witch that was killed. They might be called Sacred, but the power of the items was drenched in the blood of the murdered Witch. Mere names couldn’t block his Eyes of Purity from knowing the truth. It was why he didn’t pay more than lip service to the Witch Hunters. The unfortunate fact was that while he might not personally desire to hunt a Witch, his family would brook no disrespect to their benefactors.

Guardians were those who trained to the peak to protect Witch-Hunting teams from non-Witch enemies. After all, if a Witch had a family with power, more than once a Witch-Hunting team had found themselves hunted in turn. At those key moments, Guardians were the difference between life and death. Andrew sneered internally as he led the two Witch-Hunting teams out of the mansion and to the last known sighting of the enemy.

The Seers of each team looked at the marketplace for several minutes tracing the minute power in play before they returned to Amos and Richard. Bleak expressions were on the faces of both men as they told their superiors that the Witch in question undoubtedly had a Space affinity. Andrew watched as both Elder's faces twisted with a flash of fear. Space was one of the few Elements that a Witch could use to utterly wipe a team from existence. Properly used, Space was both offense, defense, and support in one.

This mission is becoming more and more suicidal. Andrew thought as he watched both Elders. Not only are we hunting an unknown, unrecorded Color, but she’s got a nightmare affinity to fight against.

“We should abandon this mission, Amos. You know as well as I do that no Witch gains Space without a massive investment of time and money. Fighting a weak newborn is one thing, fighting a Crone is nothing except suicide.” Richard said as Andrew heard him try to talk sense into his comrade.

“Don’t be a coward. Do you think the Order’s information network is so bad that we wouldn’t know if a new Crone appeared?” Amos countered with logic. “There’s no possible way a new powerhouse would appear without any of the other forces learning of it, and by extension us.”

Richard’s eyes closed before he opened them and said, “Amos, I have a bad feeling about this one. Trust me, let’s return and I’ll take full responsibility.”

Andrew watched the flicker of hesitation on Amos’s face before the older man shook his head.

“I can’t go back without a major achievement, you know that Richard. My position is already unstable, leaving now without anything to show would result in my replacement within a year. Even you taking responsibility couldn’t stop that.”

Andrew saw Richard’s face cloud before it settled into a calm mask as the younger Elder said, “Goodbye and good hunting, brother.”

Andrew watched the younger Elder depart without looking back. It was a decisive move that garnered his instant support. A leader like that didn’t waste his men and made sure the information supplied was accurate before taking action.

On the other hand. Andrew thought turning back to the older Elder. This guy’s actions are just screaming of courting death.

Elder Amos approached Richard before saying, “Does your family have an information network we can use?”

“Of course, Elder Amos,” Andrew said without inflection. “I’ve had them working relentlessly, there should be news as soon as possible.” True to his words a servant in house livery arrived within moments to inform Andrew that something strange had been spotted going on at one of the Silver Fingers of Heaven’s branch houses.

It wasn’t a verified sighting, but at this point, Andrew would have accepted a street urchin’s suspicions. Moving quickly the team swiftly passed through the city to the Silver Finger’s branch location. As they approached the business the Seer gave a sharp nod to Elder Amos signaling the target was either inside, or had been near in the past hour.

Andrew’s heart was pained as he saw the business in question, it was one of his favorite locations to relax. Having it fall under the purview of a Witch meant he wouldn’t be able to visit without massive suspicion of his loyalties being called into question. Since he had no desire to face the Inquisition, this playhouse would need to go on the blacklist. Sighing he looked at Elder Amos before saying, “How would you like to proceed, Elder?”

Amos looked at the large building with a cold expression before asking, “Do you have contacts with the guards?”

Andrew sighed, “I had a slight run-in with them earlier. My current influence is enough to get the street isolated, but if anything big happens they’ll charge in to muddy the waters, I have no doubt.”

Amos nodded, “Few understand the true path we take. Do what you can. My team will handle the Witch and any supporters she might have corrupted.”

Andrew sent a prayer to those poor souls that were doubtlessly not corrupted and just placed in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Before the Witch-Hunting team could take action the building’s door opened and a female Zun tribeswoman stepped out into the street.

Andrew’s Eyes of Purity showed the truth of the woman’s form even as Amos took action.

“Witch! Face the judgment of the Gods!” Amos screamed even as he gestured to the Suppressor. A ripple of power spread out isolating the Witch from the surrounding mana before Amos charged forward his blade lighting with holy power.

Andrew saw the flash of derision spread across the woman’s features and felt the pit of his stomach drop. The look of the woman in front of him wasn’t that of a terrified mouse, but instead a cat who had found a new playmate.

We aren’t the predators here. Andrew thought even as he watched a silver blade counter, Amos, with inhuman speed. We are the prey.

“Oh my. What do we have here?” said the Witch looking directly at Andrew as her body morphed until silver eyes peered piercingly at him from under silver-blonde waist-length hair. Her clothing shifted into comfortable combat training clothing even as she countered Elder Amos’s second blow before kneeing him directly in the stomach.

Andrew watched the Elder turn the attack into a dodge as the silver blade flashed where his head had been previously.

“Interesting, what does the Order of Witch Hunters want with me?” the Witch said as her eyes clearly shifted to read a System message. A pleased expression on the Witch’s face made Andrew’s stomach feel even worse. “To think that attack by the member of a group means the entire group is considered to have attacked, fascinating. I'll remember that for future battles.”

Andrew stepped back with a decisive motion before he pointed and said, “I’m not with those guys, I just happened to be passing by.”

Like hell, I’m fighting a Boss with these pig teammates! Andrew thought as the Witch’s smile morphed into peals of laughter.