Chapter 388: Hide And Seek

Bwoomph. Bwoomph. Bwoomph.Marina didn’t know if Mr. Butterscotch was the bear, the rabbit or the dog.

All she knew was that it didn’t belong here.

Just like she didn’t.

“Haah … haaah … haah …”

Marina grimaced.

Her calves, heels and what was very likely her kidneys ached without end.

Even so, she was spared little room for respite. The sweat dribbled past her brows, burning her eyes as she sprinted, stumbled and swerved between the ancient oaks, her palms sore from the rough bark as she yet again paused to gather her breath.

All to utter a single spell.

“[Force Recall]!”

Marina tensed.

She waited for the familiar ignominy of appearing at her chosen destination utterly shorn of even her undergarments. It was a heavy price for any normal young woman to pay. But with it came an escape which required less incantation time and focus than her regular repertoire of teleportation spells.

It failed.

Somewhere above, an almost indiscernible sheen revealed the presence of a barrier which Marina had most certainly not breached. How she’d been pulled into the midst of the witchly village, she had utterly no idea. All she knew was that it meant escape would need to be done the hard way.

A significant issue.

Marina didn’t actually know what that was.

Bwoomph. Bwoomph. Bwoomph.

She groaned as the oaks began to tremble–and then continued to sprint, stumble and swerve.

Witches.

Barely arriving in their absurd village and she’d already seen enough to make the Royal Institute of Mages look like a paradigm of health and safety. Because while the apprentices there regularly competed to conjure things with more teeth than the next, it was at least with the contingency plan that when it all went terribly wrong, the instructors were there to put out the fire.

Not here.

Everybody in a position of responsibility was seemingly paralysed. 

But that wasn’t the main issue.

No … it was the fact that the thing a little child had conjured was fire.

Marina dared to glance behind her.

The eyes of an infernal monstrosity burned, its form lost amidst its own billowing smoke.

Here and there, something akin to blackened fur could be seen as a twisted paw pummeled the ground. Each came with a minor quake as it left a trail of destruction in its wake. Where the monster went, the forest vanished, lost amidst flames so gluttonous that they were given no time to spread. They gorged upon themselves, leaving behind nothing but a path of smouldering craters.

This was no beast she recognised.

But that was hardly surprising.

Despite the admittedly poor company she kept, the fact remained that she’d yet to consort with the worst that the world could offer. And that included what awaited below it as well.

For example–

Bwoomph. Bwoomph. Bwoomph.

A creature summoned from the lowest depths of the abyss.

A nightmare courtesy of the hells.

What type of twisted fiend this was, few could say. Mostly since they were dead. And that included their summoners. To demand the loyalty of even a fluffy terrier was foolish. But to expect it of an infernal beast was simply moronic.

That required strength far beyond what any normal mage could achieve.

Children included.

“You seem happy to play,” mused a voice echoing amongst the trees. “But that's not how this works. Before we can begin, we need to agree what the game is. Otherwise Mr. Butterscotch won’t know whether or not he’s won. Since he’s always happy to make new friends, it’d be awful if he became a little too enthusiastic.”

Marina heard as the monster trundled forwards.

There was no choking snarl to drown out the relentless pursuit. Only a constant hiss like water tossed into a hearth. 

A thing as unnerving as it was unnecessary. 

Retreating from a child was one of her least dignified moments, but the thought of being defeated by one was even worse.

If, indeed, a child was what she was.

The list of possibilities flashed through her mind.

Warlock. Blood mage. Vampire. Diabolist. Necromancer.

Any choice of occupation would explain her young appearance. If she was proficient enough to commune directly with the hells, then it was all too easy to change how she looked, height and all. And that meant a mockery of all the skin moisturising balms she made.

Here was an adversary even more worthy of disdain than first thought.

“Ah! I see now! You’re playing hide and seek, aren’t you? In that case, let’s make this a fun little bet! How about … if you win, I'll tell you everything you want to know about your terrible curse. But if you lose, you'll have to join me for a picnic.”

Suddenly, the quaking stopped.

As Marina glanced behind her once more, she saw to her bewilderment and horror that the giant paws were at last revealed, streaked with burning veins and somebody else’s blood. 

And now they were covering the eyes of whatever hid beneath the cloak of smoke and flames.

“Mr. Butterscotch will obey the rules. So find somewhere nice to hide, okay? … 10, 9, 8 ...”

Marina stopped at once.

She instinctively knew what to do. 

Prudence was firm on the matter. She needed to immediately take advantage of this lapse of judgement and withdraw. This was an unknown foe who possessed highly specialised magic as well as a keen awareness of Marina's circumstances.

“7, 6, 5, 4 ...”

Any other location was favourable. And she’d find one. Teleportation was her forte. Whatever barrier existed, she could brute force her way through.

“3, 2, 1 ...”

Afterwards, she needed to plan. To observe.

This opponent had vulnerabilities. As impressive as her spellwork was, magic had both rules and costs. Sealing away an entire village required enormous finesse. And that meant susceptibility to a well-timed push. 

Patience was the key. Just as it was for any task.

Yes … Marina knew exactly what to do.

“Ready or not–”

“–Here I come.” Marina swept around, both hands raised towards Mr. Butterscotch. “[Sacred Divine Celestial Sunflare Hexbeam]!!”

Fwoooooooooooooooosh.

It was the most horrific spell she’d ever conceived. 

An amateurish, shoddy thing hastily slapped together like a collage of vomit from different schools. It was ugly, inefficient and deeply cumbersome to cast. 

But if it was good enough to blast a lich into the horizon, then it was sufficient for this.

The fiend reacted immediately. It leapt on the spot. A visage of howling death as it opened its maws, seeking to consume the stream of semi-holy flames hurtling towards it.

The creature was torn asunder as easily as the stuffed toy it once was. 

Because as of now … Marina was officially tired of patience.

She was tired of the indignity. 

Of the failures. Of the retreats. Of those who offered more strings than help. And of the fact that everybody knew more about herself than she did.

She was tired of it all.

And right now–

“Miss Witch Of Calamity,” came an amused voice directly behind her. “You don't seem to know the rules of hide and seek. But that's okay. I can show you.”

–she was most tired of humouring whatever hag was playing at being a little girl.

“[Conflagration Nova]!”

Marina sent a shimmering blast of heat in all directions.

The spell tore through everything around her, melting even the carcass of a fiend born of flames. And yet as she pressed her heels in the freshly blackened circle and swept around, what greeted her wasn’t the sight of a pretend child’s ashes.

Instead, it was a smile.

Playful, lively and innocent. Just like the smiles which filled Rolstein’s streets each time the midday bell rang and the little troublemakers were released from their schooling at the church. 

But Marina hadn’t expected anything else. 

That’s why a tiny vial of alarmingly green liquid was also in her hand when she turned.

“Hm … ?”

A pair of childish eyes blinked as the impromptu weapon was tossed.

For a moment, she made no reaction as the vial lifted from a satchel broke upon the front of her blue dress. There wasn't even a wince, the only harm coming in the form of a small blotch.

At least until she began to smoke.

The little girl blinked.

And at last, her smile faltered.

The blotch began to grow. And then it blackened as the last drops of an experiment with alchemical dragonfire came into effect. The latest improvement to the unquenchable flames last seen engulfing the heart of Aquina Castle. 

It was enough to melt stone and ice. And also the magic which shielded her. 

The little girl tugged at her dress. But it was already too late.

“Goodness, what a terrible thing you've spilled on me.”

However–

Far from her eyes widening as her body began to smoulder, she simply gazed down with an academic's curiosity as the concoction went to work. There was no desperate palming, thrashing or rolling. No mournful cry of regret as the sound of hissing filled the air and her skin began to melt.

There was only a hole in the dress.

Click.

And then it was mended.

A feat Mrs Lorina in her shabby tailoring shop would murder several times to be able to achieve.

The hole was sewn anew. Except neither a needle nor an arcane spell had been weaved from the snapping of the girl’s fingers. It was something else. An incendiary spark like flint being struck, its hue the same as the flames which had shrouded a former stuffed animal.

Marina’s eyes narrowed.

Questions came in place of answers. All except for one.

The girl’s identity.

“I see the witches have been busy,” said Marina, straightening her back. “I wonder what moronic needs they had which required the services of a devil.”

The infernal guest smiled.

“Ah. The secret is out. What a shame. It was meant to be a bonus reward if you could hide from Mr. Butterscotch. Instead, you sent him off to nap.” 

Marina pursed her lips.

A devil was a force beyond anything she had ever known. Only that one cranky auntie who demanded to know why the discounts were only at 40% instead of 50% on a busy weekend could compare.

Yet even as prudence told her not to exchange words, an all too familiar fury welled up within her. 

The flames of something ancient and unfathomable whipped at the edges of her soul. A dark urge which whispered into her ears and lifted her hands, wishing to utterly burn this filthy, impudent creature who did not know its place in the hierarchy of the world.

She forced the feeling away, her fists curled tight.

“... Hm? What’s wrong? Have you suddenly decided you’ve nothing to say? And here I thought you always had a comment to make.”

The child clapped her hands.

“Ahh, I see! Maybe you think if you’re dull enough, I’ll leave and let you be? … I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way. I’m playing with the witches for a reason. And I can’t leave until I’m done. If you want to see me gone, you need to do it the proper way. The calamitous way.”

She pointed to her heart.

“You can use your powers,” she said brightly. “The ones you deny, even though it bleeds into your every action. Trying to separate yourself from the flames is like a pastry chef trying to remove butter from a croissant. You can’t have it both ways. Either you’re the Witch of Calamity … or you’re boring. And the things I find boring I discard very fast.”

The girl leaned forwards ever so slightly.

“However, were you to truly make use of the gift afforded to you, it’d be enough to overpower anything which walks this world. You needn’t stop at myself. Anybody who fails to offer the respect you deserve can be swiped away with less than a thought.”

Marina wrinkled her nose.

She wouldn’t be a mage if thoughts of being able to manage the most unruly of customers after her hangover tonics wasn’t slightly tempting. 

Yet while no words from a devil could be trusted, she trusted the curse within her even less.

“Tempt someone else. I’m not here to indulge in whatever this wretched curse is. I’m here for answers. To everything. And I will find them regardless of who or what is in my way.”

The child’s smile only widened.

“How amusing. But such a starring role isn’t yours to take. You are, after all, merely a distraction from the main event. And your cue has already come and passed. Unless you want to join me for a picnic?”

“My time has yet to come. You and your picnics won’t be part of it.”

“Now that’s just–”

Marina didn’t allow the response.

Having now determined the correct course of action, magic pooled in her hands as she suddenly moved.

“[Celestial Radiant Sanctification Divine Holy Expulsion].” 

A shimmering wave of pure, golden light swept over the child.

It was a force powerful enough to cause her to take a step backwards. The golden locks of her hair wildly swayed, while her dress billowed as though caught in a gale. 

The devil blinked in surprise.

Then, she slowly patted herself. 

“... Did you just invent a spell made up of lots of holy words?”

“Yes.” Marina did her best to look dignified. “Holy magic isn’t my forte. Did it work?”

“Were I a devil selling hats … shockingly, perhaps it would have. But I’m a little higher on the ladder. It will take more to banish me.”

“Tch.”

Marina clicked her tongue. 

She was hoping to avoid doing this the hard way. Especially now she knew what that involved.

An incredible amount of grief.

“A shame,” said the child, her overly bright smile replaced by something alarmingly genuine. “I thought you were the dullest Witch of Calamity to ever exist. But now you’ve managed to briefly amuse me. That makes you deserving of a reward more than the witches who I intended for you to join.”

As she raised her hand, a flurry of embers began to swirl around it.

“So–Miss Marinara, let me show you how it’s done.”

“I will destroy you!” came the response, as a Witch of Calamity’s righteous fury immediately boiled over. “I will burn you into such cinders that you will beg the heavens to piece you back together!”

The devil laughed.

Her lips moved. Yet whatever words she spoke next, Marina didn’t hear.

Instead … she could only feel herself falling down, down and down.