To His Hell and Back-Chapter 415: Hunt The Hunter

It was too late for Emma by the time she realized what had happened. But her eyes snapped at Miss Yulia who was supposed to be a human. A human— They all smell of humans!! So how is it that suddenly they had turn into a witch? How?!

"What are you?!" Emma yelled and Yulia smiled, slowly her face melted away, showing that underneath the brown hair was actually red and beside her the servant also had a pair of green eyes and blonde hair.

Both Bella and Ariel have appeared in front of Emma, as though they had known who she really was from the start.

"The witch," hissed Emma angrily as she clutched to the bright dome of light. Blood dripped the moment her fingers entered the thread of lights. "The witch and the sister."

"Wendy was it?" Arabella cut her words. "I assume then that this maid has already been killed by you."

Wendy gritted her teeth and smugly scoffed, "How did you do it? I never once smelled the presence of a witch. Besides you have acquired the power of a skin walker, which is odd since unlike I, you don’t have a skin walker blood on you."

"That explains," Bella hummed, "That’s why you can change your appearance. Wasn’t the servant your doing? You entered the room with his body. Is it because you noticed I found your curse?"

Wendy scoffed, "Getting smart are we? I won’t answer your question but I am impressed by how you could guess that servant was once a skin I wore. Then tell me how did you manage to find me?"

So she didn’t like answering but wants answers?

Fine, Bella thought.

She played dumb, "The only best way to find a method that could kill me is by being a servant. That way you could enter the castle without anyone noticing it as odd. Servants are always the best choice. Pricking blood is also to check whether something had possessed you and turns out we were right."

"So I played to your trick," Wendy sighed as she slowly pulled her hand to her face, clicking her tongue. "I always despise the idea of losing... and you just as Sir Morpheus had said is one annoying little bitch."

The sudden shift in the air was quick and immediately Bella eyed Ariel who took the cue and immediately rushed to bring the servants far from Wendy. They all knew that sorcerers are much more interested in killing and with Wendy’s twisted love for killing people, these servants around her was going to turn into her food for the morning.

"I wonder!" Wendy yelled as she ripped apart the dome of bright threads, "Tell me! They called you the princess after Circe but are you anywhere stronger than her?! A genius- the only woman who could move Sir Morpheus’s heart. So how can you be anywhere close with her?"

Arabella’s frown deepened as she watched Wendy deliberately drive the glowing threads deeper into her own flesh. Blood slicked her hands, dripping in dark rivulets to the floor. A finger— her smallest one— snapped clean off, tumbling soundlessly, and still Wendy did not flinch. Arabella knew those threads of light were sharper than any blade, but the woman wore her wounds like ornaments.

Her madness didn’t stop there.

"I wanted to kill Circe myself, you see." Wendy’s voice rang with manic delight. "I’ve always wanted to prove I was stronger than her. So let’s see if you can match her— or me. Won’t you, princess?"

Her last word was still echoing when her body vanished. Arabella’s eyes flicked sharply to her surroundings. She had expected it. The threads could not hold someone like Wendy forever.

And she was right.

Through a gap she had torn in the dome of light, Wendy emerged, battered and bleeding, her face carved with deep slashes. Blood streaked her arms, her clothes clung wet and crimson to her skin. But pain did not touch her. Instead, she wore a grin wide enough to unnerve the bravest man, her eyes gleaming with feverish triumph. One hand clamped beneath Arabella’s chin, forcing her face upward, while the other pressed firmly against the crown of her head.

"How sweet," Wendy purred. "You’re still so weak. So hesitant to kill." Her gaze flicked past Arabella, sweeping the chaos of the halls. "And strange, isn’t it? Your favorite vampire isn’t here to save you. Did he run off the moment he realized you’d have to face me alone?"

Arabella’s expression didn’t waver. Cold, steady, she let Wendy’s taunts wash over her. Instead, her eyes moved to the servants scattering in terror, their screams echoing down the corridor. And there, inside the glowing dome, lay Emma’s body— abandoned, motionless, another casualty to Wendy’s madness.

So many lives. Too many lives.

Her lashes lowered. Her chest rose and fell, each breath harder, faster, anger burning through the pity that had softened her heart. That grief hardened, solidifying into fury, until it became something vast and uncontainable.

The air thickened. The floor beneath them shuddered, groaning under a force that built from the center of Arabella’s rage.

Wendy frowned upon seeing how the world had shook. Not only was the floor trembling underneath them but also the walls and even the sky was now swallowed by the gray clouds, rains and thunders condensing to the once bright sky.

"I thought I could reason your action," Arabella whispered, "Being hunted for generation, being cursed, but all of it was the doing of Morpheus and I could tell the reason for your action has never been due to hatred towards humans or loyalty towards Morpheus. Deep down, you just like killing. You love to murder." 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Wendy smiled, undeterred even after seeing how Arabella’s anger had resonated with the whole world.

Rumors said that only witches with the first three ranked demons in Hell would be able to shift the weather with a flick of their finger.

And this girl, this small girl is that honored witch to be in contract with those higher ranked demons?

Wendy didn’t believe it.

"Why won’t I love murder? Putting the lives of those people who had once looked down on me, is the most fun. Seeing their faces contort with anger, fear, and pain, how much I love to see them! How much it is fun to see them suffer in pain and twist while they try to survive!"

"But why do you steal lives?" Arabella clenched her jaw as she raised her fingers and Wendy felt an odd sensation that made her to release Arabella’s head.

The sorceress stepped back, holding to her chest that had thumped and an itch on the back of her neck.

"Stop pretending that you care!" Wendy snapped, "In the end, those lives that were lost weren’t of the people who you care for."

"But they are lives," Arabella whispered, "What fun is there in stealing other’s happiness. You also once have had a family, you must have also had someone you once treated dearly to you. You can steal what others think as important but others cannot?"

Wendy became more and more on edge by the words Arabella had chosen, annoyed by the way she had tried to nag her, trying to tell her that she was at a fault- teaching her as though scolding a child!

"Shut up! Shut your damn mouth." Wendy’s lips curled into a smile that was far too bright, too sweet, as her hands rummaged through her pockets. One by one, crude little figures of cloth and straw appeared in her grasp. "Maybe— unless that mouth of yours is ripped open— you’ll finally learn to shut the hell up."

Arabella didn’t wait. The moment Wendy’s hand lifted toward the dolls, she summoned the air around her. Wind surged like an unseen beast, hurling Wendy against the wall with a crash that shook the chamber. Dust rained from the rafters.

But the victory was short-lived.

Blood spilled.

Not from Wendy— no. It ran warm down Arabella’s own cheek. She staggered, fingers rising in disbelief to touch the gash that burned across her skin. A deep, precise cut, as though a blade had kissed her face.

Her eyes snapped upward. Horror clenched her chest as she saw it— the voodoo doll she recognized by the strands of her own hair stitched into its scalp. A dagger jutted straight through its head, slick with her blood as though it had been struck in truth.

Wendy’s laughter rang high and sharp, a mockery that filled the air. "Voodoo dolls are simple things to control. Did you really think yourself untouchable here?" She trailed her fingers along one of the dolls, this one bound with a bright red ribbon around its throat. Her touch was almost tender, almost reverent. "You foolish girl. You never once wondered how precious your blood might be in this castle. While you drifted unconscious, I made certain your own maids and servants collected every drop of what I needed— your hair, your blood, the pieces of you that matter most."

She lifted the doll, pressing it close to her cheek like a lover. Her smile turned razor-sharp. "Now I have you. My perfect little weapon. My perfect little plaything. And with these dolls, I can make you bleed, crawl, scream— do anything I wish."

and then her hands went toward the voodoo’s legs, her smile shining through in a dangerous glint, "Someone like you without a single broken bone in your body would never understand what it means to be in pain. But don’t worry, today is the day you learn about it."