As night fell, Yory froze Wav’s body to preserve it until he could send it to his father. He made his way toward the forest, still pondering the swords he’d seen earlier with Wav. Among them, he noticed a sixth sword, nearly destroyed. Since each knight only carried one sheath, it ruled out the possibility of a knight wielding two swords. The only explanation was the presence of a sixth knight, likely dead, given the state of the sword. Worse, this knight had probably been another puppet of the witch, much like the missing merchant.

Entering the forest, Yory muttered to himself, "She knows I’m here. I bet she’s set some magical creatures to find me. But why all the secrecy?" He raised his hand and chanted, “Light magic: yüngül top. Wind magic: kəsici.”

A massive orb of light shot into the sky, flooding the forest with brightness. Creatures, including bears and tigers, rubbed their eyes in discomfort. Others, like the undead horses and ghouls, shut their eyes in pain.

Meanwhile, the witch, seated in her chair and reading a book on society and habits, sensed something amiss. She set the book aside and walked to the window, throwing it open to see a brilliant light piercing through the forest.

Squinting against the glow, she shielded her eyes with her hand. Dressed in a long, elegant purple gown, her short black hair highlighted by purple streaks, the witch’s striking pink eyes narrowed. “I can’t sense my beasts! Where the hell are they?” she muttered before casting, “Conjuring magic: Quş.”

A dark, magical bird appeared on her shoulder. “Fly to the forest and tell me what you find,” she commanded.

The bird took off toward the forest as she intoned another spell: “Conjuring magic: rabitə.” Now linked to the bird, the witch could see through its eyes as it sped through the night.

She was startled to see part of the forest cut down. "Yoranios!" she gasped. Only he could wield dark magic so powerfully, hiding his presence completely. Yoranios and Nearf were the only demons capable of such perfect concealment. "Now, where are you, Gyovani?" She wondered aloud.

Continuing to observe through the bird's eyes, the witch soon realized that her conjured creatures were dead. "What in the...," she muttered.

Suddenly, her connection to the bird was cut off. Surprised, she gasped, "I can’t feel the bird anymore! What happened?"

Meanwhile, in the section of the forest that had been felled, Yory pulled his dagger from the bird the witch had sent. “She’s close,” he declared. “I’m going to find her, even if it takes all night. I could use the exercise, anyway.”

Gripping his dagger, Yory followed the path the bird had taken, moving forward.

Back in the witch’s hidden sanctuary, she clenched her hand and murmured, "He’ll find me soon. I should prepare a surprise attack to slow him down. That would buy me some time."

At the same time, Yory entered the part of the forest he believed the bird had come from. He sensed someone approaching in hurried, frantic steps. He raised his dagger, and when the moonlight revealed an injured knight in bloodstained armour running towards him, the knight cried out, "Help me, please! The witch is here!"

Yory studied the knight before remarking, “Really? The same trick again? This knight is already dead. Stop playing with corpses—it’s not healthy.”

The knight’s eyes, once filled with fear, turned cold. His face became emotionless as he looked at Yory and said, "Yoranios Gyovani, the great one! It’s an honour to meet you in person. My name..."

Yory cut him off, addressing the witch instead. "Azravene, one of Reyanna’s daughters. We’ve never met, but your methods are unmistakable."

The knight’s corpse turned toward Yory and smiled. "Impressive! You live up to your reputation—clever, powerful, and ambitious. Everything a woman desires in a man. But tell me, how did you know it was me? I’m quite curious!"

Yory smirked as he began, “It’s obvious. Reyanna’s daughters…,” his voice trailed off, and the thought continued in his mind. They bore an eerie resemblance to Reyanna’s sisters, those who had died during the infamous witch trials long ago. It was said that not only their appearance but also their magical talents had been passed down to her daughters.

Out loud, he continued, “You’ve even inherited their names." His eyes narrowed. "You’re Azravene, the witch of illusion and manipulation…,” descended from Azravene, the purple witch. He locked eyes with the knight, now certain of who he was dealing with. "Am I wrong?"

Azravene grinned and began clapping, her eyes gleaming with amusement, while Yory kept his grip on the dagger, his gaze cold and deadly. She laughed and said, "That’s why men like you always end up with a beautiful wife and a dozen children! You’re making me admire you even more!"

Yory glanced at the corpse and remarked dryly, "Honestly, it’s strange hearing that from a dead knight in the middle of the night. Not exactly how I pictured my peaceful life as a merchant."

Azravene, still smiling, sat down in her chair and replied, "I apologize for the theatrics, King. Just a precaution."

Yory returned the smile, though his tone turned sharper, "If you wanted to talk, you could’ve asked. But I get the feeling you’d rather see me dead. So, what’s the real reason behind this? You know who I am, yet you attacked me. Your kind is up to something, and I want answers."

Back in her hidden retreat, the real Azravene was about to respond when she sensed movement nearby. She clenched her hand and muttered, "What’s that? I used illusion magic to hide myself!"

Meanwhile, Yory continued his one-sided conversation with the possessed knight. "I can get those answers the easy way or the hard way. Your choice. Either way, your body will stay here tonight, and I’ll bring your head to your mother."

Suddenly, in Azravene’s hideout, a white snake with black markings slithered into view.

She muttered, "I cast an illusion. How did it find me?"

The snake opened its mouth and let out a piercing scream, so loud it could be heard by merchants far away on the other side of the forest.

Reacting quickly, Azravene grabbed a dagger from a nearby table and hurled it at the snake, hitting its neck and silencing it instantly.

"He knows where I am now!" she hissed to herself.

Without hesitation, she snatched her spellbook and bolted for the back window, diving through it.

Simultaneously, Yory extended his hand toward the source of the commotion and chanted, "Fire magic: Yanğın Qasırğası."

A massive surge of flames erupted into the sky, consuming the forest and the possessed knight in an inferno. Everything caught in the spell’s wake turned to ash. With a calm motion, Yory raised his hand again and commanded, "Wind magic."

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Powerful gusts of wind swept through, clearing the black smoke, and leaving the charred remnants exposed. Yory retrieved his dagger and moved forward, his sharp eyes scanning the ashes for signs of the elusive witch.

After a careful walk through the ruined landscape, a voice broke the silence. Azravene, grinning from the shadows, called out, "Impressive for a merchant!"

Unfazed, Yory pressed on, focused on finding her. "It's one of my few skills. Did it meet your approval?" he asked, his tone flat.

Azravene, hidden on the far edge of the forest, was tending to a burn on her arm. She smiled through the pain. "Oh, yes! That's why they call you the finest demon in the kingdom! Tell me, how many women have tried to win your heart? Five? Ten? Hundreds?"

Yory continued without breaking stride, muttering to himself, "Her voice keeps shifting locations. Illusion magic, masking her real position. Annoying."

He paused to gather his thoughts, then answered aloud, "None. I'm not as sought after as you might think."

Azravene’s laughter echoed, her voice seeming to come from all directions. Yory spun slightly, his eyes narrowing as he tried to pinpoint her location.

Meanwhile, Azravene whispered to herself, "Let’s see if I can throw him off a bit more. The longer he’s confused, the better my chances."

After a few moments, her voice chimed in again, playful yet taunting. "Poor thing. I do wonder though, how did you discover my hiding place? I pride myself on being careful, but that snake you sent really threw me for a loop!"

Yory halted and replied, his gaze fixed on the sky, "Conjuring magic takes a toll on me. All I could manage was to summon snakes and direct them to search for you."

Azravene, poised to cast a spell from a distance, feigned surprise, her voice laced with mockery. "But I used illusion magic! How could the snake possibly find me?"

Yory’s eyes shifted toward the western edge of the forest, where the embers still glowed. His tone was calm, and thoughtful, as if lecturing. "In the realm of illusions, success hinges on deceiving one of the five senses that govern perception. A snake, however, lacks many of these critical senses, making it immune to such tricks."

Azravene, now with black flames swirling in her palm, countered, "But snakes have eyes, don’t they? Surely they would fall under the spell’s sway."

Still staring in the same direction, Yory's lips curled into a sinister grin. "Not if you blind it and cut out its tongue. Then, all it has left is the sense of touch. The ground becomes its only guide."

Azravene’s smile faded, and with a fierce cry, she released the pent-up energy in her hand. "Die!"

Her voice echoed through the forest, multiplying in a chaotic chorus. "Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!"

Suddenly, the area Yory had passed was engulfed in black flames, the inferno consuming the landscape. The once silent forest was now a sea of dark fire, roaring hungrily as it devoured the trees, earth, and ash.

When the flames receded, Azravene gracefully ascended a tree, her eyes scanning the destruction below. Calmly, she muttered, "That should have done the trick, but I won’t rest until I see his corpse with my own eyes."

For a moment, there was only an unsettling stillness, the kind that precedes another storm. Then, without warning, the sharp sound of trees being severed echoed across the clearing. A few fell, cleanly cut, and the wind began to howl.

Azravene frowned, her attention drawn toward the disturbance. "Wind magic? He's lashing out randomly now." She readied herself, knowing this was far from over.

Moments later, sword-like gusts of wind sliced through the trees, cutting everything in their path with ruthless precision. The forest was obliterated as magical gusts cleaved one tree after another. Azravene nimbly leapt from branch to branch, narrowly evading each strike.

Then, in a surreal moment of stillness, time seemed to freeze. Azravene's heart raced when she noticed a tiny snake, its two unscathed eyes staring directly at her. Panic surged through her as she realized, "Damn! He's found me!"

As she landed on another tree, Yory wasted no time. Raising his hand toward her, he calmly chanted, "Fire magic: atəş top."

A massive fireball roared through the air, crashing into the tree where Azravene perched. Flames exploded on impact, engulfing the area in a fiery inferno.

Yory lowered his hand and, without hesitation, grabbed his dagger, sprinting toward the blaze. When the flames subsided, it revealed Azravene standing behind a shimmering magical shield, panting from the strain of her defence. She used wind magic to clear the residual flames and ash, but her eyes widened when she saw Yory already in the air, leaping from the nearest tree toward her with alarming speed.

Azravene clenched her left hand, conjuring a wind spell, but Yory was faster. He plunged his dagger into her hand before she could cast, the blade sinking deep into her flesh.

With a snarl of pain, Azravene retaliated, her foot slamming into Yory’s stomach. The force of the kick sent him flying into the air. Before Yory could recover, Azravene raised her right hand, chanting sharply, "Wind magic: kəsici."

A blade of wind tore through the air, slashing across Yory's face and arms. Blood sprayed, but Yory quickly summoned a protective barrier and dropped to the ground to evade further damage.

Upon hitting the ground, Yory spoke through gritted teeth, "Earth magic: qravitasiya."

A powerful gravitational force slammed Azravene down, her body crashing face-first into the ground. The earth trembled under the weight of the spell.

Though bruised and battered, Azravene managed to rise, but Yory was already on his feet. He seized her left arm and, with an effortless motion, twisted it until it snapped, the bone shattered with a sickening crack.

Azravene let out a piercing scream, her voice filled with agony. Desperate, she tried to cast with her right hand, but Yory was relentless. He drove his dagger into her right hand, pinning it to the earth.

Gasping for breath, blood trickling from her mouth due to an earlier fall, Azravene met Yory's cold gaze. His face was burned and scorched, the left side of his body charred by her black flames, a spell from which he had barely escaped. He was bleeding from deep slices inflicted by her wind attack, pain radiating through his body. Through gritted teeth, Yory hissed, "Didn't I promise to end your filthy life tonight? Now speak, and perhaps I'll kill you quickly."

Azravene struggled to breathe, her blood staining Yory's hand as he gripped her. With laboured breaths, she forced out, "Your kingdom... treated us like beasts! Pawns, only brought out when war beckoned! We’ll never allow our daughters, or their daughters after them, to rot as slaves under your cursed rule!"

Yory’s eyes blazed with fury as he retorted, "You initiated the conflict! We defended ourselves! When my father ended that war, he returned your lands—the castle you seized from us! He offered aid and protection! And I upheld that promise!"

Azravene’s breathing grew more ragged, yet her left arm, slowly healing, snapped up, grabbing Yory’s right hand. Her blood-smeared face twisted into a defiant grin. "No, you didn't! And we are far from over!"

With a quick incantation, Azravene invoked blood magic, spitting a stream of her own blood directly into Yory’s face. Instantly, it burned like molten fire, searing his skin as if drenched in acid.

Yory roared in pain, releasing his grip on her. Azravene leapt away, gaining distance as she shouted, "Dark magic: qara alovlar!"

Ebon flames ignited in her palms, black fire swirling like a malevolent storm, hurtling toward Yory. Acting quickly, Yory countered with his own fire magic, conjuring a blazing shield that clashed violently with the dark flames. The two magics collided in a fierce struggle.

Azravene sprinted toward the road but her escape was abruptly cut short. She slammed into an unseen wall, recoiling in shock. Her hands pressed against the invisible force, panic creeping into her voice. "A magical barrier... I can't get out!"

Meanwhile, Yory pushed forward, forcing the dark flames back with his shield. Each step sent sharp pain shooting through his body—his back ached, burns and gashes throbbed—but he pressed on, eyes fixed on the witch.

Their gazes locked, and Yory’s voice was filled with venom. "This is how you deal with your victims. Trap them in a barrier and slaughter them like cattle."

Azravene’s breath was heavy, but her wounds were already healing. She met his eyes with defiance. "I don’t fear death, especially not from someone like you. Our time will come, whether you survived tonight or not."

Yory’s grip tightened on his dagger, his expression hardening. "What is Reyanna planning? What’s the next move? Who’s helping the witches? Who’s conspiring with her inside the demon kingdom? Speak, or I’ll get it out of your mother myself!"

Azravene’s gaze softened as her thoughts drifted to her sisters—Lysandra cooking happily, Evangra sewing, and Zephoria lost in a book about grand adventures. She could hear Lysandra’s voice, concerned, "Azravene, you’ve barely eaten! Are you okay?"

A single tear fell, but a soft smile spread across her face. "Yes. As long as I see you three happy, I’m always okay."

Her focus returned, and she stood tall as Yory charged toward her, dagger raised. Her smile didn’t fade as she spoke softly, "Sisters, I love you."

Then, her tone darkened as she called on the depths of her power. "Dark magic: şeytanlar."

Azravene stared at Yory and returned his glare with a wicked grin, her voice barely a whisper, yet dripping with malice. "We’ll see who survives this night, demon."