Chapter 71: Dark Witch

Chapter 71: Dark WitchThe chamber was dimly lit, with only the flickering of crimson candles casting shadows on the ancient stone walls. The air was thick with the scent of incense and something more primal, more arcane. At the center stood Remu, her eyes closed, breathing steadily as she focused her energy. Before her, the succubus Teemah observed with a satisfied smirk, her wings folded neatly behind her.

"Good," Teemah purred, her voice smooth and sultry. "You’re finally tapping into the wellspring of your power."

Remu opened her eyes, revealing irises that now shimmered with a deep violet hue, a stark contrast to their former soft brown. Her once gentle features were now sharper, more defined, exuding an aura of confidence and danger.

"I can feel it," Remu said, her voice carrying a newfound authority. "The power... it’s intoxicating."

Teemah chuckled, circling Remu like a predator assessing its prey. "Power is a double-edged sword, dear. Wield it wisely, and it will serve you well. Lose control, and it will consume you."

Remu nodded, her gaze unwavering. "Teach me more."

Over the following days, Teemah introduced Remu to the dark arts. They practiced rituals that summoned shadows to do their bidding, incantations that bent the will of lesser beings, and spells that could manipulate the very fabric of reality. With each lesson, Remu’s power grew, and so did her transformation.

Her attire changed to match her new identity. Gone were the modest robes of her former life, replaced by garments woven from shadows and adorned with crimson runes. Her hair, once a soft chestnut, now cascaded down her back in waves of midnight black, shimmering with an otherworldly sheen. A crown of obsidian thorns rested upon her head, signifying her mastery over the dark arts.

One evening, as they stood atop a cliff overlooking a valley bathed in moonlight, Teemah turned to Remu. "You’ve come far, but there’s still one final test."

Remu raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

Teemah extended her hand, revealing a small, ornate dagger. "You must confront your past. Only by severing ties with who you were can you fully embrace who you’ve become."



Remu took the dagger, its blade gleaming under the moonlight. She understood the symbolism. To truly become the dark witch she was destined to be, she had to let go of her former self.

With a deep breath, she made a small cut on her palm, allowing a single drop of blood to fall onto the ground. The earth trembled, and from it rose a figure—a manifestation of her past, innocent and naive.

The figure that rose from the blood wasn’t just a ghost — it had form, it had weight, it had presence. Standing just a few feet from Remu was her past self: the girl with warm eyes, soft brown hair, and trembling hands. Dressed in white robes that fluttered gently in the night wind, she looked fragile... but there was a strange strength in her gaze.

"You’re not me," she said softly, stepping forward, her voice like a whisper in a quiet forest. "Not anymore."

Remu, now cloaked in shadows and crimson runes, tilted her head. "Exactly," she replied. Her voice was calm, cool, but laced with something sharp. "So why are you still here?"

Without warning, Good Remu raised her hand, and a bright wave of light surged toward the dark witch. It was fast — too fast for someone unfamiliar. But Dark Remu saw it coming.

She jumped back, the light crashing into the stone where she stood a second before. The shockwave blew back her hair, but she didn’t flinch. Her lips curved into a small smile.

"So you can fight."

Good Remu didn’t answer. She moved quickly, feet barely touching the ground as she launched forward, staff of golden light forming in her hand. She spun once in midair, then came down hard.

CLASH!

Dark Remu raised her arm just in time, summoning a black shield of magic that cracked under the pressure but held. Sparks flew. The impact shook the cliff.

They split apart immediately after, skidding backwards, facing each other across the open stone.

Then they charged.

It was chaos — beautiful, violent chaos.

White light met dark fire, pure mana versus corrupted essence. Spells collided midair and exploded like fireworks, their colors lighting up the sky. Each time Good Remu cast a purification seal, Dark Remu would counter with a spell of decay. Each time Good Remu tried to seal her, Dark Remu would slip into the shadows, reappearing behind her with a slash of dark energy.

Their figures darted around the cliff, moving faster than most eyes could track. Hair whipping, magic surging, eyes locked.

"You’re weak!" Dark Remu shouted between blows. "You cling to what you were, but that girl is dead! She died the moment she begged for help and no one came!"

"No," Good Remu growled back, voice strained as her feet skidded across the ground. "She didn’t die. She endured. That’s what made her strong."

Dark Remu’s expression twisted — anger? Pity? Maybe both.



"You don’t get it," she said. Her voice dropped. Cold. Final. "You were never strong. I am."

She raised both hands and called forth a massive surge of power — black flames spiraling into the sky, forming a writhing spear of pure shadow. It pulsed, alive, hungry.

Good Remu’s eyes widened. She tried to summon a shield — light forming in a dome around her — but it was slower. Hesitant.

Dark Remu hurled the spear.

It tore through the shield like paper.

The explosion rocked the cliffside, shaking loose chunks of stone and sending a wave of dark mist outward. Dust swallowed the space between them.

Silence.

Then — footsteps.

Dark Remu emerged from the smoke, her figure glowing faintly with a red hue. Her cloak flared in the wind, eyes glowing like embers.

Good Remu was on one knee, gasping. Her white robes were torn, her hands shaking. She looked up, sweat and tears mixed on her face.

"You..." she whispered, trying to stand.

"No more words," Dark Remu said quietly. She stepped forward and raised her hand.

A ring of shadows wrapped around Good Remu’s body, pinning her to the ground. Not with pain, but with pressure — heavy, suffocating pressure. The kind that crushed the will.

Good Remu’s staff shattered beside her.

She reached out weakly... but her fingers curled in.

"I’m sorry," she whispered to no one in particular.

Dark Remu crouched beside her, watching. There was no joy on her face. Just silence.

Then she leaned in close and whispered, "Sleep now."

Good Remu’s eyes fluttered shut.

The magic faded.



When it was over, only one Remu stood.

She turned to the moon, its pale light washing over her dark form. Her obsidian crown shimmered, her cloak dancing gently behind her. She didn’t smile. She didn’t laugh.

She just closed her eyes for a long moment.

Then opened them again.

Violet. Sharp. Calm.

Teemah stood a few meters away, arms folded, watching.

"Well done," the succubus said.

Remu walked past her. "Let’s go," she said, her voice steady.

"Where to?" Teemah asked.

Remu’s footsteps didn’t stop. "To make the world remember who I am."

The night swallowed them both.

And the wind carried whispers of a name... not the girl who once begged for help, but the witch who rose from her ashes.