Hate Me, Witch!

The Holy Sword pierced through flesh and blood, its sharp golden edge cutting cleanly through the body.

In almost an instant, that blazing ancient mystery of brilliant gold spread along the wound, annihilating the five viscera and six organs, destroying every tendon and meridian within the body.

Time crawled forward—but it could not turn back.

In the Valley of the End, beneath the dim daylight veiled by dust—

The desolate winds sweeping through the canyon carried the blood splatter, which landed on Isadella’s exquisitely flawless face.

It was clearly scalding hot blood, yet to Isadella’s senses, it felt ice-cold and piercing to the bone.

The swirling mask shattered, and from beneath it, the boy’s lips bled, yet he still smiled.

Looking at the face beneath the broken mask—that black-haired youth, handsome and soft-featured—

For the first time in a thousand years, the expression of Isadella, the ruler of the Imaginary Belt, froze.

It was a memory from so, so long ago.

Back then, she wasn’t the Knight King Artoris, wasn’t a Throne, and certainly wasn’t the high and mighty ruler of the Imaginary Belt, the Crimson Empress.

At that time, she was just the Second Imperial Princess of the Fresta Empire.

She had yet to step into the Legendary Tier, still needing to exhaust herself politically to suppress rebellions from the Oathbound Families, making use of countless schemes and alliances.

And it was then, she met a black-haired, dark-eyed youth from the Northern Lands.

And because she was short on capable people, she had personally invited him to serve as a Swordbearer for the Empire.

The time they spent together wasn’t long, but Xia Ya Egut’s actions—especially his forward-thinking words and behavior—left a deep impression on her.

And now—

Countless details, countless scattered thoughts flooded Isadella’s mind.

They caused those long-dormant circuits of her soul—clouded by the dust of time and thought untouchable—to begin trembling once more.

Dust fell away, and her heart thundered.

Before his death, the vision of the utopia Kayin had broadcast across all of Aisgania—an ideal nation—gradually overlapped with what she’d seen within Succubus Princess Diris’ dreamscape.

Why did they share the same dream?

People with ideas that transcended their era were vanishingly rare. For any ruler, meeting even one such person was an extraordinary blessing. How could she have met two?

Why did she always feel a strange sense of mutual understanding from the Black Knight Kayin?

It was obvious—because Kayin and Xia Ya were the same person.

Why, as a mere Fourth-Ring, could Xia Ya form connections with two Thrones—The Argent Witch Sylvia and The Queen of the Night—and even make them willing to kill a veteran Legend like Guderian to protect him?

Naturally, it was because Xia Ya had, through some means, formed a bond with them in the past.

Maybe it was due to the Historical Echo of the Cangting Ancient Kingdom, or maybe something else entirely.

But regardless, if Xia Ya could connect with the Tower Master of the White Chalk Tower five hundred years ago—

Then he could certainly traverse a millennium of time and meet her at the end of the Third Era in Aisgania.

All these were details she had instinctively overlooked under the distortion of the Scarlet Moon and her own obsession.

But now, with the Scarlet Moon’s influence dissipated, and the forgotten fragments of her humanity retaking her heart—

Every detail, every thought, pointed to one and only one truth.

Kayin was Xia Ya Egut.

And she—

Had just used the Holy Sword to personally kill the Black Knight who had silently helped her through everything, the one she had built the Imaginary Belt for—the love she would do anything to reclaim.

She numbly let go of the Holy Sword.

The dim skies and the desolate Valley of the End blurred before her eyes, dreamlike, unreal.

Then, she watched as the boy slowly fell—into her arms.

His aura dimmed, like a lamp going out.

His mask shattered, and Xia Ya looked up. His lips were stained with blood, but his eyes still shone—bright as a falling star in the night sky.

“Your Majesty.”

“No… Your Highness.”

Xia Ya’s face was deathly pale, not a trace of color left, but still, he smiled—radiantly.

“Looks like… I won this bet.”

……

The heavens and earth seemed to vanish. Everything slowed to a crawl.

The world was silent, save for one crisp sound of a blade breaking, echoing across the sky.

The azure magical flames around Xia Ya’s body suddenly receded. In their place, a faint, dark glow wrapped around him.

Intense pain spread from the Holy Sword’s wound, shredding every organ, every tendon, every vessel inside him.

He could feel his lifeforce being stripped from his flesh—his spiritual perception, his five senses—becoming cold, slipping away.

Without the Black Knight mech to shield him, Xia Ya’s physical body was just that of an ordinary Sixth-Ring—one that didn’t even specialize in melee defense.

To take a Throne’s full-powered blow head-on, defenseless, unguarded—how could he possibly not pay a steep price?

And yet, that faint glow lingered around him.

It preserved the last thread of life, keeping him from dying outright—giving him just enough strength to move.

【One-time item “Watcher’s Dagger” has shattered. You have entered a 30-second “Last Stand” state.】

【Watcher’s Dagger】

【Item Type: One-time Transcendent Item】

【Item Effect: Upon receiving fatal damage, puts the user into a temporary unyielding state. For thirty seconds, death is denied. After activation, the item is destroyed.】

【Note: Mute the world, and listen to the sound of the dagger breaking.】

【He used a “Watcher’s Dagger”!】

This wasn’t some kind of game-changing trump card—just a desperate life-saving measure.

Even when triggered, it didn’t heal or restore. It merely refused death for thirty seconds, leaving him with a sliver of health.

Once the thirty seconds passed, everything would return to normal—he would still be in his dying state.

With the vast power gap between Xia Ya and Isadella, even with those thirty extra seconds, it wouldn’t change the outcome of the battle.

But Xia Ya had never intended to defeat or kill Isadella.

He had surrendered all resistance, stepped into death willingly.

With his own blood, Xia Ya had brought Isadella back—from her godlike detachment and obsession, to the humanity she had buried deep within.

This was the riskiest piece of the plan—one calculated out of countless simulations by Yui.

No one knew to what extent, after a thousand years, the soul circuits of the ruler of the Imaginary Belt had been corroded by time and the Scarlet Moon—or whether there remained the faintest shred of humanity that could still be awakened.

Even Xia Ya couldn’t be sure.

But fortunately, this time, Xia Ya’s gamble paid off.

He felt his body being gently embraced.

What entered his sight was no longer the indifferent, godlike gaze of the ruler of the Imaginary Belt.

Instead, it was a pair of crimson eyes—clear, glistening with unshed tears—that hadn’t been seen in a thousand years.

Eyes that belonged to the Second Imperial Princess, Isadella.

“That me from before... I wasn’t the Second Princess you once knew, nor the Knight King. I was just another existence, one that bore the name Isadella in memory alone.”

A cold, gentle voice rang out.

Isadella gazed down at the boy in black, bloodstained robes held in her arms.

There was no longer that detached aloofness of a god gazing down from the clouds—in its place was unmistakable trembling.

“For someone like me... was it really worth it for you to go this far? To pay such a price?”

Yet before her questioning could finish, she was interrupted.

“That Lantern Festival on that winter night—I once made a promise in my heart.”

“The next Lantern Festival, the one that symbolizes reunion... all of us have to gather again at the manor in the Black Lily District. Not one person missing.”

Xia Ya’s voice, dulled by blood loss, was faint, but the boy’s dark eyes still shone—like the morning star.

Exactly the same as the first time they met on the day of the Royal Selection.

“Even if Your Highness has become someone I no longer recognize—”

“As long as I remember who you once were, from beginning to end... that’s enough.”

The boy’s words struck something deep in Isadella’s heart, leaving her dazed for a long time.

Only after a while did the princess let out a bitter smile and shake her head.

“I’m sorry... but I don’t think I can go back.”

Her gaze fell upon the Holy Sword in her hand.

“Creating the Imaginary Belt was already a violation of the world’s laws—a defiance of the River of Time itself.”

“I’ve fallen too deep into this place. That obstructed, tampered flow of time is already beyond salvation.”

“Even with the protection of the Holy Sword... I won’t be able to last much longer.”

“Maybe five years. Maybe ten. This Imaginary Belt will eventually be corrected by the force of historical revision.”

“And when that time comes, I—the ruler of the Imaginary Belt—will be crushed without resistance, erased along with every trace of my existence.”

“That is the irrevocable sin I bear.”

“From the very beginning, I was never someone who could turn back.”

Her words were dim, yet without much regret.

The moment she killed Merlin and established the Imaginary Belt, she had never intended to go back.

And before she was wiped away by the force of correction—before the world forgot her entirely—getting to see the boy she had longed for one last time was already more than enough.

“I can’t go back.”

“And at your side, there’s still that Winter Flower girl from the Ingulite Family, that witch from the White Tower... and many others—people and things worth holding onto.”

Isadella’s voice softened.

The moment Xia Ya revealed his identity, she had already understood completely.

Whether as the Empire’s Second Imperial Princess or as the Knight King, her connection with Xia Ya had only ever been that of trusted allies, of superior and subordinate.

Not lovers.

Her feelings for Kayin—twisted, deep as they were—had always been one-sided.

From beginning to end, Xia Ya never belonged to her alone.

He was also that girl who had contracted the Holy Lance. He was the whole world to the Argent Witch.

She, who had never even confessed her feelings, had no right to selfishly claim him.

“To me, you coming across time to see me one last time...”

“That alone is enough.”

Isadella forcibly swallowed the sorrow twisting in her chest and tried to smile.

“Let me use the Holy Sword’s protection to return you to the correct timeline...”

“In your rightful world, there are people and things more important than me.”

She raised the Holy Sword. Golden brilliance burst forth.

She was about to command that ancient mystery—to carry Xia Ya back to the proper course of history.

But in the next instant—

She was startled.

“Your Highness.”

“Sometimes... if you can’t hold on anymore, it’s okay not to force yourself.”

In Xia Ya’s hand, two illusory lights slowly emerged.

A glove—and the phantom image of a die.

The effect of “Watcher’s Dagger,” which refused death, was about to end—roughly five seconds remained.

But five seconds—

Was more than enough for what Xia Ya intended to do.

Though his face was drained of all color, Xia Ya’s pitch-black eyes gleamed with light.

In the next instant—

The illusion of the glove slowly faded.

The die spun gently in the air—

And landed, face-up, on a six.

【Thief’s Gloves (One-Time Use)】

【Rarity: Purple】

【Type: Transcendent Item】

【Price: 15 Coins】

【Effect: When worn and used on a selected target, randomly steal two items from that target. Consumed on use.】

【Note: Sneaky? Sneaky!】

...

【Die of Fate (Phantom)】

【Rarity: Purple】

【Type: Transcendent Item】

【Price: 30 Coins】

【Effect: Roll the die. The number rolled determines your luck outcome. Consumed on use.】

【Note: Aurianfei, ALL IN!】

...

The Thief’s Gloves and Die of Fate were items Xia Ya had noticed the first time he accessed the Sands of Time Exchange Store.

From the very first glance, Xia Ya had realized the synergy between the two items.

The Thief’s Gloves on their own, with their random effect of stealing two “things” from a target, weren’t particularly meaningful. After all, the concept of “things” was far too broad—from wallets to buttons, anything could qualify, and the odds of successfully stealing a valuable item were low.

If he accidentally stole something like, say, a pair of panties, he might even get arrested on the spot as some kind of pervert.

But if the gloves were enhanced by the Die of Fate, then it was a different story entirely.

As long as one paid the proper price and rolled a six—the maximum value representing ultimate luck—

Then, by the logic of “wishes come true,” the randomly stolen “things” could shift from meaningless odds to preordained targets.

And the reason the Thief’s Gloves had a rarity level matching that of a rule-breaking item like the Die of Fate, reaching purple-tier rarity—

Was precisely because they weren’t limited to stealing only physical objects.

They could also steal abstract, intangible concepts.

For example, the authority of the Ruler of the Imaginary Belt.

Or—more importantly—

The karma and sin born from altering history and invoking the backlash of correction forces.

Of course, if this power to steal from the source was used on an enemy, it would naturally trigger resistance and possibly fail entirely.

Otherwise, Xia Ya could just casually find an ancient god and swipe their power outright.

Only when the target trusted him completely, and had no defenses against him, could the success rate of the Thief’s Gloves reach its maximum.

That was why Xia Ya had taken the risk—why he’d gone to such lengths to awaken the human side of Isadella.

...

Boom—

A vast and overwhelming mystery surged up beside Xia Ya.

In an instant, it even surpassed the divine mystery contained within the Holy Sword.

Isadella’s crimson eyes widened in disbelief as she stared at the frail figure in her arms.

Solid streams of the River of Time surged out from Xia Ya’s body, roaring with power, rendering the boy’s form faint and translucent.

Though he was right there in her arms, Isadella could distinctly feel that the body she held was gone—no longer offering even the slightest physical sensation.

The two of them were mere inches apart, yet it felt as if they were separated by entirely different timelines, never to touch again.

The canyon trembled. The world thundered.

Not just the Valley of Termination, but the entire material world began to collapse.

The Holy Sword in Isadella’s hand emitted a sharp, clear chime.

The historical correction force, which had weighed upon her like a mountain—held at bay only by the Holy Sword—suddenly vanished, no longer pressing down on her.

Boom—

Within the Imaginary Belt, the real material realm shattered.

Streams from the River of Time spilled through the ruptures formed by the Imaginary Belt, turning the surroundings into waves of flowing light.

Countless images from the past, fragments of the future, moments from different timelines all converged in the chaos—only to crash into and dissolve one another.

“Life is something destined to end.”

The boy’s voice rang in Isadella’s ears—yet it felt worlds away.

“Life is a pilgrimage of accumulated pain.”

“But, Your Highness.”

“I believe—the legend of the Knight King…”

“Was never meant to be a story of death and finality.”

Xia Ya’s face remained deathly pale, but the illusionary River of Time around him only grew denser.

The force of historical correction roared, and its direction shifted.

No longer surging toward Isadella as it once had—

It now surged wildly toward Xia Ya.

And in that instant—

Isadella understood everything.

Xia Ya—she didn’t know what method he had used—

But not only had he taken her authority as the Ruler of the Imaginary Belt…

He had also stolen the sins—those rooted in the alteration of history—along with the cause and effect that had invoked the backlash of correction.

And now, he bore it all alone.

Boom—

The material world completely disintegrated, no trace of the original Esjania remaining.

In its place was the roaring River of Time.

Not a projected illusion within the material plane—this was the real River of Time.

With unstoppable, irreversible might, it surged to sweep Isadella away, to return her to the rightful history.

The Holy Sword’s brilliance flared again—but now, it seemed dimmer.

Earlier, it had consumed too much power, and with the loss of her identity as ruler of the Imaginary Belt, Isadella could no longer draw upon the authority that once empowered it. The remaining energy wasn’t enough to anchor her within this foreign timeline.

Even so, she forcibly channeled what little power was left in the sword.

Amidst the crumbling flow of time, Isadella barely managed to stay her footing. She looked toward the upstream of the River of Time—toward that collapsing illusion of a world.

Toward the lone figure being ravaged by correction forces.

Despite bearing all the karma and sin that came with her distorted timeline—

Xia Ya’s face remained calm in the midst of the disintegrating Imaginary Belt.

Behind him appeared a phantom palace—remnants of the space between the thrones. Countless shattered fragments of black metal slowly gathered behind his slight figure.

And in the end, they formed a throne of black iron.

Just like the identity he now bore—

That of the Ruler of the Imaginary Belt.

The boy sat on the black iron throne, and across the roaring River of Time, he looked at Isadella.

“Why…”

“Why would you go this far—for me?”

From the silver-haired princess’s mouth came a cry so sorrowful she could barely recognize her own voice.

She had never even expressed her feelings.

They weren’t even lovers.

And yet what he had done for her… far surpassed anything a mere lover could do.

He had taken upon himself the sin of being ground into dust by the force of correction—the fate of being forgotten by the entire world.

“Why, huh…”

Seated upon the black iron throne, Xia Ya also pondered the question.

He had already lost his concept-level immortality. He no longer had the luxury of reckless play.

Yet despite that, he had chosen such a perilous path.

It didn’t fit the usual behavior of Xia Ya Egut at all. If anything—it was more like something Kayin would have done.

But Kayin was supposed to be just a fake identity. With the loss of immortality, he should’ve vanished from the world entirely.

“Because I feel guilty.”

“And… greedy, I guess.”

Xia Ya looked down at that delicate figure on the verge of collapse and spoke softly.

“In the past, I only ever approached the echoes of history with a game-like mindset.”

"I acted only to earn quest rewards, to grind so-called character affection, wrapping myself in layer after layer of a noble and righteous persona. Once the goal was achieved, I could just pat myself on the back and walk away from the echoes of history."

"But for you, Your Highness—for Sylvie—that kind of deep, soul-piercing emotion was real."

"Because of a single sentence from a scumbag like me, a girl ended up waiting in a dark, empty tower, sitting alone upon a vacant throne, for five hundred years... a thousand years... even bearing sins that history itself would not allow."

"Even if you and Sylvie both didn’t care... I do."

"I think… only if I experience the same pain, do I have the right to accept that kind of love."

Xia Ya's voice softened just a little.

"I do have feelings for you, Your Highness. Maybe it comes from those days we fought side by side… or maybe it started even earlier, and I just didn’t realize."

"And I’m also the greedy, petty type."

"So, I can’t accept that the one you fell in love with was Kayin—and not me."

Xia Ya sat tall upon the throne, his gaze deep and unwavering.

"My real name is Xia Ya Egut. Kayin was nothing more than a noble-sounding mask I created. He was never real."

"To me, that’s no different than… being c***olded."

"I want the person you love to be me. The one and only Xia Ya Egut in this world—not Xia Ya Ingrit, not Kayin, not some so-called Holy Knight."

His words paused momentarily.

Within the Imaginary Belt, the solitary figure seated on the Black Iron Throne fell into Isadella’s eyes.

It overlapped perfectly with that lone silhouette from the Valley of Termination—back turned to the world, facing an army alone.

"Your Highness."

The black-haired, black-eyed youth slightly turned his head, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips.

The flowing light of time brushed against his face, casting sharp and defined shadows.

"The me that I am now—"

"Can I be the one and only male lead in your story?"

The roaring River of Time washed away the last remnants of power left in the Holy Sword, and with it, the final part of Xia Ya’s sentence.

Isadella was swept away by the current of time, carried downstream along the great river of history.

She watched as that solitary figure upon the throne grew farther and farther away, until at last—he was gone.