High School of Demon Hunting

Chapter 1515: Chapter 259: When Dreams Awaken

Who is he?

Where is this place?

Wasn’t I looking for my dad and mom?

The Little Witch clutched the small mirror in her hands, holding it close to her chest, warily eyeing the red-robed figure slumped among the mushroom cluster, her mind blank.

She couldn’t recall what she had done yesterday, where she had gone, or even where she had come from or where she was supposed to go. She only remembered her home—a warm, spacious house, surrounded by towering beech trees, with a wide little playground, soft green lawns, golden sunlight, and wizards and witches in long robes—uncle and aunt wizards, brothers and sisters.

She tilted her head upward and took a glance at the sky through the gaps in the oak leaves.

The sunlight here was pale and cold. The sun had only just risen, and there were still a few stars twinkling in the sky. In the brief moment that the Little Witch looked up to study the sky, she witnessed how those stars extinguished one by one, as though blown out by the wind.

My name is Zhu Si.

I’m searching for my dad and mom.

As these thoughts gradually became clearer in her mind, the Little Witch’s gaze was no longer lost and bewildered. However, the figure of that red-robed man lying by her side remained a puzzle.

The Warlock was slumped among the mushrooms, his eyes tightly shut, his eyebrows furrowed even as he dreamed.

She didn’t know who he was, though his figure seemed oddly familiar.

Perhaps he was merely a kind passerby, Zhu Si mused. Maybe yesterday he found her pitiable and gave her dinner? Perhaps he even offered her a small cup of milk or juice.

But when the Little Witch touched her shriveled little pocket, a trace of unease appeared on her face.

She no longer had anything delicious or heavy coins of gold to give him.

On her wrist, however, were a few leaves of Mystical Grain strung on a red string, even enchanted—but the magic effects on those leaves had already faded. Barring their sentimental value, they were completely worthless.

Under the oak tree beside the cluster of mushrooms was a large blanket, on which were neatly arranged beautiful hairpins and ornaments. On a clean white porcelain plate were piles of fragrant bread, with lazy sugar cats lying atop them, their frosting melting slightly in the morning mist, revealing a faint translucence.

Zhu Si swallowed furtively.

She looked at the sleeping red-robed man, then at the sumptuous spread on the blanket.

”You definitely can’t finish all of this,”

The Little Witch muttered under her breath as she opened up her own handkerchief. She didn’t touch those sweet-smelling pastries or acknowledge the sugar cats waving their tails and paws at her from the dessert plate; instead, she carefully wrapped a few pieces of white bread and a small, already opened bottle of orange juice.

”When I find my dad and mom, I’ll come back to pay you,” Zhu Si whispered apologetically and nervously. Feeling a mix of unease and guilt, she quietly picked herself up, gathered her small bundle, drew up her hood, and was ready to slip away.

Then, a small mouse wearing a pointed wizard hat fell out from her hood and landed atop one of the oversized mushroom caps.

Squeak!

The mouse squealed as it vigorously waved the matchstick-like magic wand in its hand, scattering a spray of golden sparks, dazzling and bright. The sparks landed on the mushroom cap, leaving behind mottled yellow marks.

Faster than the mouse’s squeak was Zhu Si’s reaction.

As the trail of sparks shot forth from the tip of the magic wand, the Little Witch immediately raised the small mirror in her hand and used its reflective light to envelop the tiny mouse in the pointed wizard hat.

”Who are you?” she asked calmly.

The mouse twirled its wand in elaborate motions, conjuring intricate patterns in the air as if performing on a stage, entirely ignoring the Little Witch’s question.

Zhu Si glanced at the Mouse Wizard, then again at the red-robed Warlock who was still sleeping with furrowed brows in the mushroom cluster. She seemed to reach an understanding: ”Are you with him?”

The mouse continued fiddling with its wand, but this time added a gesture of taking off its hat as if to offer a polite bow.

”Sorry to disturb your rest... but I need to find my dad and mom, so I won’t keep you company,” the Little Witch murmured, putting away her small mirror. She quietly apologized to the mouse, then tiptoed away, stepping into the depths of the oak forest under the soft morning light.

Behind her,

The Mouse Wizard put its pointed wizard hat back on, leaning on its wand, and tottered after her.

From behind the tree canopy, came the sounds of the Zu Ges beating their chests and the gentle chirping of birds waking up—accompanying the Little Witch on her journey.

...

...

As Zhu Si quietly departed under the morning light.

Zheng Qing was witnessing winds of all kinds in his dream.

To be precise, it was a dream within a dream—he wasn’t sure if he was still within Hastur’s lands of favor or even within the Dreamland itself.

The only thing certain was the wind.

Cold winds, warm winds, mountain winds, sea winds, spring winds, eastern winds, the breezes brushing past grass blades on the prairie, the winds whispering through treetops in the woods, the salty, untamed winds of freedom, and the gusts that rushed into the skies and shattered the heavy clouds above.

All manners of wind spun and roared—some like whips lashing against Zheng Qing’s body; others like tender hands softly caressing his face; and still others like Mr. Zhang’s face, earnest and instructive.

Mr. Zhang.

When Zheng Qing thought of Mr. Zhang’s face, he suddenly paused amidst the winds.

He faintly felt he had forgotten something.

At the edge of the winds, beyond the Warlock’s sight, there was a sapling growing rapidly with visible speed amidst the gusts’ cheers and songs.

A single leaf, then two leaves, then three leaves.

A single branch, then two branches, then three branches.

Winds similar in essence but distinct in appearance blew in from afar, landed on the sapling, and vanished. With each breeze that disappeared, the sapling grew slightly larger.

As the winds dwindled, the sapling grew taller and bigger.

Gradually, it transformed from a tender sprout into a small tree. Though only a few feet tall, it carried an impression of towering magnificence when observed from a distance.

Its faint green leaves adorned its fragile branches, their count fewer than fifty, yet each leaf seemed like a tiny outstretched hand, helping the little tree uphold this world.

When the final wisp of wind faded into the tree, the entire world suddenly became void.

A clear and endless cracking sound echoed from the skies, where golden nets and intricate runes slid across the heavens like meteors plummeting to earth, each trailing long, fiery tails behind.

Zheng Qing tilted his head upward, staring blankly at this apocalyptic scene that also resembled the primordial birth of something ancient.

The sky mirrored the image of the small tree.

It waved its branches as if proclaiming its growth.

For a long while, the Young Wizard suddenly understood—this was the innermost world of his soul, and that small tree was a seed that had sprouted not long ago.

At the moment Zheng Qing came to this realization in the depths of his being, an immense force pulled his consciousness from his mindscape outward. Once again, Zheng Qing experienced the sensation of plummeting from the heavens.

Within the oak forest, among the mushroom cluster.

The slumbering Young Wizard jolted awake, sitting bolt upright, scattering the watching Zu Ges in startled flight.