Hate Me, Witch!-Chapter 128 – That Glorious Future Will No Longer Have Me In It
Chapter 128 – That Glorious Future Will No Longer Have Me In It
“Cain…”
In the royal capital of Aisgania,
Futigon’s expression was dark and stormy.
A blast of pitch-black mana shot from his fingertips—
forming a light-devouring spear that pierced the projection array high above the sky.
It was only an image-casting array, after all—how could it possibly withstand the fury of a Legendary-tier?
Boom—
The dreamlike vision of that ideal nation was pierced through by the dark mana beam.
It shattered in an instant, scattering into countless glimmers of light that faded into the night sky.
Yet Futigon’s expression didn’t improve at all with its destruction.
Ever since he had usurped the throne from his elder brother, King Yuse, over a decade ago,
this was the first time such an expression of rage and vicious gloom had crossed his face.
Because Futigon, with the perspective of a Legendary-tier, knew very well—
Everything was already too late.
He had long raised the alert level on Cain and the Xiao Organization to the highest level,
even prioritizing the assassination of Cain over Artoris.
And this operation had indeed succeeded in its primary objective: Cain was dead.
But under Cain’s final plan—
everything had lost its meaning.
That vision of a better world, that ideal homeland of hope,
had already been broadcast to the entirety of Aisgania through his final words.
To every farmer and every commoner.
To countless eyes that had grown used to the endless night,
for the first time—
a longing for light had been born.
And so, from this night forward—
the flames of rebellion would rise again and again across the lands of Aisgania.
Until the long night broke.
Until the dawn arrived.
…
“Cain? That Holy Templar Knight the Church once anointed?”
Within the Great Cathedral of Dawn,
the Cardinal had also heard Xia Ya’s every word—his voice echoing through Aisgania.
He spoke, somewhat dazed.
He had heard of the Xiao Organization,
and of Cain’s alliance with the Knight King and his rebel army.
After all, both the Church of Dawn and the Knight King’s rebels were currently the weaker forces within Aisgania.
Mutual watch and support were inevitable.
But in the Cardinal’s memory, that “Black Knight” Cain had only been a Fifth or Sixth-Ring at best.
Yet now—he had demonstrated a power that even ordinary Legendary-tiers could never hope to achieve.
“The dawn that illuminates the world…”
He extended his spiritual sense toward the Valley of the End.
That scorching light…
was blinding.
So dazzling. So radiant.
Just like Cain’s soul—
shining with pure, untainted brilliance.
…
The brilliance of the fallen Holy Spear lit up the land in an instant,
tearing through the night sky like daylight itself.
Isadella clenched the letter tightly in her hand,
her slender pale fingers nearly bloodless.
Yet the bold, upright handwriting on the paper remained clear as day.
“My King,”
“By the time you read this, I imagine everything will already be over.”
“Just as I wrote on the cover… from this day on, I suppose I can no longer be your knight.”
“The vile king Futigon launched this siege with killing intent.”
“If we were to face him head-on, no matter if we won or lost, our coalition would be devastated.
The morale of the great knights and noble lords would inevitably crumble,
and our alliance would fall apart—that kind of loss is something we cannot afford.”
“So, I chose a different path.
One that would cost us the least—
the most optimal option.”
“After this battle, both the Abyss and the blood clans will have lost a Legendary-tier,
and even Futigon himself will suffer severe spiritual backlash from the annihilation of his half-body,
leaving his power greatly diminished in the short term.”
“This window of time will be our best opportunity.
We’ll no longer be under threat,
and instead, we can reclaim territory, grow our forces and influence,
and embrace a rare moment for advancement.”
“I believe—with your ability,
and the help of Gawain, Lord Tristan, and the others—
Aisgania will welcome a brighter, vaster future.”
“Only, in that flourishing future—”
“There will no longer be… any trace of me.”
…
The distant storm winds surged forward,
ruffling the white letter, making it flap loudly in the turbulent air.
Isadella’s silver-white hair streamed behind her in the night wind.
Yet she only stood there, silently reading every word.
A vast dread,
an overwhelming sense of loss,
enveloped her very soul.
The mental sea that should have reached perfect clarity with her breakthrough into the Legendary-tier—
elevated to new heights, untouched by mortal dust—
was now unmistakably shrouded in shadow.
Even after witnessing all that had happened,
a part of her still clung to hope.
Maybe… Cain was still alive?
Ever since she’d met him,
that Black Knight had faced death countless times—
and somehow always survived.
“The Unbeaten Black Knight.”
A nightmare to enemy generals.
The highest of honors to those who followed him.
But now—
this handwritten letter from Cain himself
was telling her the truth.
A cold, unrelenting truth
that she didn’t want to face.
This was the stage Cain had chosen for himself.
His self-scripted final act.
Even when facing Legends—
he never truly lost.
She lowered her gaze slightly, continuing to read.
“It’s such a shame. This farewell, meant to be final—”
“All I could do was write you a letter… not even bid you goodbye face to face.”
“Because—I was afraid.”
“Some of the Round Table Knights may have misunderstood me,
but in the end, I’m just human too…
I fear death. I fear pain. I want to live.”
“I was afraid that if I stood before you,
I wouldn’t be able to go through with it.”
“Ridiculous, isn’t it?
Always talking about ideals and righteousness as the founder of Xiao…”
“But in the end,
I’m just a coward—
clinging to life.”
And there,
the writing paused—
for just a moment.
Isadella could almost see him now—that slender, black-haired figure, hunched over a desk in a dimly lit room, writing by the flicker of a lone candle.
“No.”
“You’re not a coward.”
“You are Aisgania’s greatest hero… and the most perfect, most noble knight.”
The wind carried away her whispered words, rustling the unassuming piece of paper, turning it to reveal the final page.
“My King,”
“You once asked me—when does a person truly die?”
“Is it when their heart is pierced by a blade? When they're struck down by incurable disease? Or when they drink a deadly mushroom stew?”
“I don't think it's any of those.”
“A person truly dies… when they are forgotten by the world.”
“So, my King, don’t mourn for me. Don’t grieve.”
“Though I may fall, the name of Cain—and all that Xiao stood for—will live on in the hearts of the people, and be etched forever into the history of Aisgania, immortal through the ages.”
“Just like I once told you…”
“You are the King—the leaf that bathes in sunlight, a hero destined to stand tall on a radiant throne.”
“I am your knight, your soldier… the roots buried deep underground, hidden in shadow and darkness, clearing your path from beneath.”
“What a soldier must do—
is use their life to pave the way for their hero.”
“This is the choice I made, and I have no regrets.”
“So please, carry my unfinished dream.
Step over my fallen body,
and keep marching forward, unwavering, my King.”
“Topple the vile king. Purge the monsters.
Build a kingdom of order that will last a thousand years.
That dream was never mine alone—it is the will of the people.”
“And one final, selfish request—”
“When I’m gone, please don’t forget… my name.”
“That way… I’ll be able to die with a smile.”
…
On the desolate plains, Gawain looked up, slightly dazed.
His intuition as a peak Titled Knight told him—
something immense was pressing down from above.
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It felt like an ancient god had opened its eyes in the starry sky.
But when he looked around, alert and searching,
he found no sign of any divine gaze descending from the heavens.
Then, Gawain suddenly shuddered.
Because only now did he realize—
that suffocating, demigod-like pressure…
Did not come from the stars.
It came from the slender figure atop the Crowned Griffon.
In that moment—
the Knight King did not feel like a Legend.
She felt like a furious deity.
The great black griffon let out a piercing cry,
and shot into the distance, streaking toward the far sky.
Moments later, the griffon broke through the clouds.
Here—between the land and stars—
was a place beyond heaven and earth.
And Isadella stood in silence,
gazing down through the clouds
at the Valley of the End.
Once a massive canyon—
Now, a colossal fissure split the land in two.
Everything within that crack
was lifeless.
All that remained were barren plains,
land turned to crystal-white under extreme heat,
and scorched black ash—
the only testimony to the cataclysm that had taken place.
Isadella stood above it all, staring blankly at the dim land below.
She remembered the day she pulled the sword from the stone—
the first time she met Cain.
The day they made a promise—
to bring light and order to this land of disaster.
But now…
that promise would never be fulfilled.
“Forget you…”
Her soft whisper vanished into the distant night wind.
No one heard.
“How could I ever forget?”
