Anagin Chronicles

Chapter 024. The Witch (1)

A practitioner family.

I had a rough idea what that meant.

My master mentioned it once in passing, long ago.

Practitioners, by nature, are wanderers—drifting from place to place, each accumulating their own deeds. That’s why most never stayed in one spot for long.

But the practitioner families were the exception.

They were given a task by a god—to settle in one place and devote their lineage to that duty for generations.

That duty was to dwell in remote lands untouched by the hand of kingdoms or temples and, in the name of the god, protect those who lived without shelter or defense.

‘They also guard nature, welcome travelers, and tend livestock,’ my master had once said.

Suddenly, that old conversation came back to me. About the practitioner families...

’In short, they’re worthless trash.’

‘I’m already getting beaten up today, so I’ll ask anyway. Why trash? Helping people’s a good thing, right? They’re earning their merit, aren’t they?’

Anagin wasn’t exactly interested in moral debates, but he at least knew right from wrong.

The master sneered.

‘You think they do it because they actually want to help people? Hardly. They compromise because they can’t earn merit the proper way. They’ve just put collars around their own necks so they can live comfortably like tame dogs. I can’t respect people like that.’

His master made no attempt to hide his disgust toward them.

Well, if what he said was true, it was understandable enough. That kind of compromise was indeed pathetic.

‘Still, that doesn’t mean I have to think the same way.’

With that thought, Anagin looked again at the practitioner before him.

Green hair, tall, solid build, sturdy leather armor, expensive-looking boots, and gear—

definitely the son of a wealthy house.

“Excuse me. Did you not hear me?”

The man addressed Anagin politely.

Anagin had been lost in thought, recalling what he knew of practitioner families.

Coming back to his senses, he answered,

“You said you came to capture the witch?”

“That’s right. The locals asked for help and told me where she was.”

It seemed that the red-feathered helmet man had met this Spanich fellow on his way back—

or maybe it was someone else. Either way, not particularly important.

“The villagers say the witch is extremely cunning and dangerous. You should turn back.”

Oh… as expected of a practitioner who settled down to protect people, his speech was remarkably courteous. Likely because he lived among ordinary folk.

Practitioner families not only protected the people but were also tasked with cultivating influence in the area to glorify their god’s name. That made sense.

After all, influence wasn’t something mere strength could create.

But that was that—and this was this.

Anagin shook his head.

“Sorry, but I’m a practitioner too. And I came to capture the witch as well.”

“?!”

The man—Spanich Dolos—looked startled. Not just surprised, but cautious as well.

“……”

“A practitioner, you say… May I ask which god you serve?”

“I don’t serve any god.”

Nor do I plan to.

He didn’t bother saying the last part out loud.

A flicker of relief crossed Spanich’s face.

“Ah… you’re a zero-star practitioner.”

“Zero-star?”

“It means one who hasn’t received a star—that is, someone who hasn’t yet been chosen by a god. My apologies if that sounded rude.”

The man apologized courteously, as if to be considerate.

While Anagin wondered why, the robed woman whispered in his ear.

“Practitioners chosen by the gods receive blessings and a star. The star represents their rank as practitioners—it increases each time they’re blessed. One-star, two-star, three-star, and so on.”

That was news to him. Or maybe not—perhaps his master had mentioned it once.

He might’ve just tuned it out, as usual, since he’d never cared much about such things.

The robed woman leaned in and added,

“Zero-star practitioners are basically treated as wannabes, not real practitioners.”

“I don’t agree with that.”

“At least, that’s how the ones with stars see it.”

He thought that was idiotic, but he could still understand it.

The same kind of idiotic behavior occasionally occurred in his hometown.

The more elaborate the design carved into a wooden practice sword, the stiffer their necks grew—regardless of how well they could actually swing it.

If people got that arrogant over a practice sword, then practitioners... well, it figured.

Still, it was idiotic all the same.

“I guess I’ll be zero-star for life.”

“…Pardon?”

Spanich looked at him with pity.

He must’ve thought Anagin was belittling himself.

“Ah… don’t worry. If you keep trying, I’m sure you’ll receive the god’s blessing and earn a star someday.”

Spanich offered words of comfort.

“Perhaps that’s why you came here, isn’t it? I understand. You wish to make a great contribution and catch the god’s eye. But you mustn’t push yourself too hard…”

How should he put it—this Spanich guy had completely misunderstood.

As Anagin debated whether to correct the misunderstanding or just ignore it and move on—

Rumble…

The beasts lying all around them began to rise one by one.

Wolves, wild dogs, bears—creatures that had already died with their throats slit.

“Necromancy?!”

Spanich shouted as the corpses stood upright.

It seemed to be magic that reanimated or controlled the dead.

Because so many corpses littered the area, Anagin and the others were soon surrounded.

“Stay behind me!”

True to his duty as a practitioner who protected people, Spanich showed strong resolve.

He moved Anagin and the robed woman to a corner, shielding them.

It was… quite impressive, even admirable.

KWAAAAANG!!

The reanimated bear let out a monstrous roar and swung its foreleg.

The sight was threatening at first glance, but compared to when it was alive, it wasn’t nearly as dangerous. Being a corpse, its movements were sluggish and clumsy.

Look at that—Spanich raised his round shield to deflect the bear’s blow and, in the same motion, sliced off its foreleg with a fluid strike.

The problem was…

KUAAANG!

Because it was dead, it felt neither pain nor fear.

A living beast would’ve run away or thrashed in agony when its limb was cut off—but not these things.

And with so many of them, the pressure was overwhelming.

“This could go on forever.”

Anagin muttered as he watched Spanich fight the undead beasts.

The man was strong and skilled, but the situation itself worked against him.

No matter how many times he cut or stabbed, it did little good against corpses. After all, they were already dead.

“This won’t work. We need to find the totem.”

The robed woman spoke with confidence. Anagin asked what that was.

“It’s a conduit that transmits the witch’s magic. A witch of this level couldn’t cast spells from such a distance. There must be a medium that carries her magic—break that, and everything will return to being mere corpses.”

“Are you a mage?”

Spanich looked surprised at the robed woman’s knowledge.

He quickly scanned the area, searching for anything suspicious—anything that could be channeling the spell controlling the corpses.

But he found nothing. No one would be foolish enough to leave something so obvious in plain sight.

Besides, the undead beasts weren’t waiting idly.

Grrrrrr!

“Ugh, forget it. I can’t find it.”

Anagin leapt forward, swinging his bag at an undead wolf lunging for Spanich.

The bag slammed into the creature—

CRAAACK!

With a thunderous sound, the undead wolf shattered into pieces.

Just as he thought—smashing them to bits was the weak point.

* * *

“What is that…?”

A dim fog hung over the swamp, making it dark even in daylight.

Atop a decaying tower built within that swamp, an old witch muttered to herself as she peered into her crystal orb.

The orb showed a madman swinging a bag at the beasts she had revived.

Each time that bag struck, the beasts shattered into pieces, their forms collapsing completely.

Naturally, they could no longer move.

“Grrgh…!”

The witch let out a guttural hiss of frustration.

It was bad enough that the Dolos Family had sent her some brat, but now—where on earth had this lunatic come from?

Clack. Clack. Flutter. Flutter.

The witch twitched her winged arms irritably, feathers trembling with the motion. The bracelets around her wrists rattled in response.

Incidentally, those bracelets were magical tools—artifacts that amplified her spells, much like a magic staff would.

‘Wait a moment…!’

As she paced restlessly and glared into the crystal orb, something caught her eye.

Her runaway apprentice—the annoying little cat who always tried to act cute!

‘Why is that brat there…? Did they fail?’

The witch recalled the village slaves she’d sent to capture the runaway and her apprentice herself. Had they failed to return because of that? Or was it betrayal? Was it because she’d grown old?!

“Master!”

Just as her paranoia began to boil over, another of her apprentices spoke to her through a separate crystal orb.

He too seemed to have spotted the runaway cat—but that wasn’t what he meant.

“It’s him, Master! I’m sure of it!”

“Him? Who?”

“You know, the one who appeared not long ago in the artificial Ruins made by that Monster Merchant!”

“……”

The witch furrowed her brow, thinking hard.

Once, her memory had been sharp, but age had dulled it. It took effort now to recall the details.

‘Damn it…’

Cursing the cruelty of time, she finally remembered.

“The one who nearly killed that arrogant Monster Merchant…?”

“Yes! The same one. The merchant said he lost all his monsters that day—hit by something like a bag!”

Indeed, that was true.

When she first heard it, she thought it was nonsense. But now—seeing it for herself—it made perfect sense.

The beasts she had revived were being smashed apart by that same bag.

“It’s almost certainly him, Master! The one who took down Bender, Deodia, and the Monster Merchant!”

There was little doubt. There couldn’t possibly be two practitioners using a bag as a weapon.

“And that runaway girl’s with him right now, isn’t she?”

“I saw that too.”

Some of the other apprentices exchanged puzzled looks.

“But why is she here? She ran away, didn’t she…?”

“She must’ve lured that practitioner in. She’s good at sucking up to people. She’s not just looking at your collection anymore, Master—she means to steal from you! Actually, this works in our favor.”

The excitable apprentice’s voice rose in zeal.

“A runaway cat bringing a fish home in its mouth! Let’s lure them near the tower and catch them both at once!”

Another apprentice protested.

“Wait, why lure them here? Why don’t we just go out there and kill them?!”

“Idiot! That guy might look ordinary, but he’s the one who defeated Bender, Deodia, and the Monster Merchant! We can’t underestimate him!”

“Bender and Deodia? They were just zero-star practitioners who never got chosen by a god!”

“Yes, zero-star, but still far stronger than most! Why else do you think they ruled that whole region?! And we have to capture him alive! The Master needs him in one piece to boil him properly. If she eats him, she’ll be young ag—”

The apprentice stopped mid-sentence, realizing too late that he had crossed a line.

In his excitement, he had touched upon the witch’s most sensitive subject.

He looked up at her, desperate to explain himself—

But it was already too late.

FWISH!

Before he could utter another word, the witch slashed her winged arms, and the steel-hard feathers impaled him through the chest.

Dozens of feathers skewered his body; he convulsed briefly, then collapsed lifelessly to the floor.

“……!”

The other apprentices froze in terror, bowing low and keeping silent.

“…Don’t send out any more beasts. They’ll be useless. Instead, make it look like you’re stalling with the corpses, and prepare the illusion and trap magic around the tower. I want them captured intact.”

The witch’s tone was icy as she repeated her now-dead apprentice’s suggestion.

“Yes, Master!”

Having witnessed her wrath firsthand, the apprentices scurried away to obey her orders.

Left alone, the witch turned back to the crystal orb, gazing at the practitioner and the cat-like girl.

When that runaway had first escaped, she’d cursed herself for ever taking in a beast as an apprentice.

But now… she wondered if it had actually been good fortune.

If she managed to boil and devour the practitioner who defeated the Monster Merchant, not only would she regain her youth—her power might grow even greater.

* * *

BOOM!

Anagin swung his Interspatial Bag, packed with all sorts of junk and even chunks of rock. The last undead beast shattered into pieces.

No more corpses moved.

That was how things should be.

Once dead, they belonged in the ground—not walking around.

“…Do you happen to know a man named Karnos?”

Spanich asked, eyes fixed on Anagin—or more precisely, on the rough, battered sword hanging from his waist.

At first, he had thought Anagin was just some reckless fool eager for fame. But after seeing him obliterate the undead beasts with nothing but a bag, his opinion had changed completely.

So he began to watch the man closely… and noticed the sword.

It was a familiar blade, one that had belonged to Karnos, the Monster Butcher.

Anagin glanced down at it and replied,

“You know the guy?”

“Yes. We’ve traded with him a few times. May I ask how you came by his sword?”

“He gave it to me after I helped him out in the Ruin Village. Not that I was trying to help.”

Anagin spoke without hesitation—it wasn’t exactly a secret.

But Spanich was taken aback.

He had heard the stories of what happened in the Ruin Village.

Of the cunning Monster Merchant’s trap, and the practitioner who destroyed it.

If Anagin’s words were true, then the man before him was none other than the ‘Hero of the Outskirts.’

The one who had suddenly appeared like a comet, defeating the Bender Caravan, Deodia, and even the Monster Merchant who preyed upon villages and cities alike.

“…Got something to say?”

Spanich’s expression turned firm.

“How about teaming up with me to take down the Harpy Witch?”

“…What?”

Anagin blinked.

Moments ago, this same man had told him to turn back because it was too dangerous—and now he wanted to team up? It didn’t make sense.

And another thing didn’t make sense—Harpy Witch?

The robed woman tugged on his collar and whispered,

“My former master is a witch, yeah—but she’s not just a human witch. She’s a harpy… You do know what a harpy is, right, mister?”

“Of course I do.”

Anagin answered confidently. He’d heard it from his master before.

“It’s a bird bastard that talks like a person, isn’t it?”

The robed woman groaned and held her head as if struck by a headache.