Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 243 - 230 The Witch’s Disguise

Mory rose from the ground, with Rola helping her remove the dry grass tangled in her hair – Heaven knows how it got there. As she watched the black cat on the shoulder of the witch departing into the distance, Mory’s eyebrows quirked slightly, and she leaned into Fergenie’s ear.

"Did that kitty just talk?"

Fergenie turned her head to look at her companion. It had been three minutes already, and her understanding of her companion had deepened, so...

"I’m pleased to see you agree with the me from three minutes ago," Fergenie said expressionlessly, her amber eyes showing no hint of pity or disdain.

"What about now?" In truth, Mory hadn’t grasped her meaning, simply carrying on half-heartedly with the conversation.

"Now, I’m worried about my companion’s intelligence," Fergenie replied.

When Rola finally couldn’t hold back a giggle, Mory realized she had been played by the cat named Veraliz and the companion before her called Fergenie.

She waved her arms menacingly, ready to give Fergenie a lesson, when that graceful figure floating in the air descended before the three of them. It was Miss Lily.

Mory gave up on her plan, squeezing herself into the shadow behind Fergenie, like a student fearful of the teacher’s punishment.

Indeed, Miss Lily was the strictest of teachers, her stern face in Mory’s eyes nothing less fearsome than a ghastly demon.

The demon bellowed.

"My dear little sisters, who can tell me how that black cat came to appear in our camp?"

Mory and Rola hung their heads low. Between the gaps in their hair, their eyes met, communicating the arrival of doomsday to each other.

Even in the face of the imposing Miss Lily, Fergenie’s voice remained icy cold.

"The black cat was brought back from the dense woods by Mory and Rola after they left the camp..." Fergenie, always the good student, continued, then swiftly changed tack, "However, supervising the camp was my duty. Allowing them to leave the camp was my neglect. Miss Lily, please punish me."

Lily looked at the three small figures, all with their heads bowed.

"Fergenie, are you trying to excuse them? You know our rules; we have no precedent for reducing punishment."

"I’m simply stating the facts, Miss Lily. I’m not trying to excuse them; I believe that I should be punished alongside them."

"So this is what you think, that you should share in the rewards and punishments together?" Lily’s form inched closer, her witchcraft energy slithering around the three like a coil of snakes in the air, her voice growing colder, pressing down upon Fergenie.

"...Yes, this is my personal understanding of... what is right," Fergenie said, standing up straight in her trembling, raising her head to the reflection of Lily’s sharp, encroaching hand in her pupils.

As if a gentle breeze was caressing her hair.

"Although I’d like to be angry, you’ve done well this time, children," Miss Lily revealed a faint smile, the upturned corner of her mouth in Mory’s eyes as miraculous as a blooming iron tree, even the hand that stroked her head seemed unreal.

"That black cat holds a high status among the Vengeance Witches. Just now, Nacia came back to find me. She agreed to let us enter the Witches’ Gathering. You all did an amazing job. We’ll meet at the camp center in ten minutes, then head into the gathering area together. Tidy yourselves up, children. The disguises can be dropped now."

Lady Lily left to inform the other witches.

Mory had never thought that he would be praised and felt a small thrill in his heart.

"Vira Cat is really incredible. It’s amazing how much a single cat can do!"

Fergenie rolled her eyes, "Yeah, incredible, a talking cat casually gave orders to other witches to open the gates for us, just magical, isn’t it?"

"That’s not any ordinary cat, you idiot!"

Ten minutes later.

The Witch of Death slowly walked to the center, shedding their disguises, along with the scraps of fabric that could hardly be called clothes. Some let them fall to the ground, while others carefully preserved theirs.

Just like newborn babies, the witches with delicate bodies stood like statues of art. Under Lily’s call, they slowly approached. Their rough, straw-like hair snapped under the effect of witchcraft, and new, smooth hair grew from their bald heads. The ghastly wounds on their bodies were sewn together by floating magical threads, with fine scars left on the surface covered by delicate satin. The witches, who were not even up to the standards of savages, transformed into princesses of the ball, each the protagonist of her own story.

They smiled, holding the hands of their adjacent sisters.

"I will take good care of the hairband you gave me, Cross. Even though my clothes are beautiful enough now, the cloth you endured hardship for is heavier in my heart."

"Me too, Kailyn. Gold, stones, and silk cover my body, but your gift tells me I am still the witch who needs your companionship."

One belongs to Andrey’s clan, and the other could enter the multi-racial commercial metropolis, City of Wandering, at any time. How could they be troubled by survival and wealth? Constantly dealing with Liches who use Oriau gold coins as the basic unit and lack the concept of wealth, the Witch of Death could be said to be the richest witch clan in the world. They do not lack the ability to enjoy, but they lack the qualifications to do so.

As for the reasons they could disguise themselves as a vulnerable group, it was simple. The Witches’ Gathering is essentially a recruitment event. After the disintegration of the witches’ society, witch clans hold such gatherings to absorb fresh blood. The unaffiliated witches, seeking shelter and support, often appear at the gatherings. Witches are creatures who care a lot about material things and appearances, which is both realistic and logical. Striving for a better way of life is the instinct of every thinking being. Hence, those witch clans would display their own group’s advantages at the gatherings, just like how the center of a school reunion is always occupied by those who are bright and beautiful.

However, such a gathering has a host, and this time, it is the Vengeance Witches. They do not have a good relationship with the Witch of Death. There is always the most beautiful white swan in Swan Lake, and they would compete, openly and covertly, for the benefit of their own clan. A weak beggar is far less harmful than a dominant plunderer. As for earning the right to enter after all that, it certainly comes down to individual abilities.

The Witch of Death, however, had not expected that the Vengeance Witches’ loathing for them had gone to such lengths that it necessitated the approval of a cat just to gain entry.

Nacia watched those newly radiant Witches of Death, smiling, their smiles akin to mocking her.

"Nacia, having strong companions is a good thing," Veraliz’s tail swept across Nacia’s cheek.

"I understand, Lady Veraliz."

Nacia took a deep breath. She stretched out her arms, the light green tattoos on her arms coming to life. The dense, bizarre characters crawled onto the ground like a moving horde of snakes, forming a door glowing with green light.

"Welcome to the Witches’ Gathering, my ’clever’ sisters."