Chapter 47:

Great sadness filled the witch’s heart.

It was a sorrow deeper than the fallen leaves of autumn, more piercing than the fading light of a setting sun.

Though surrounded by flames and scorching heat, the witch felt only coldness, as if her heart had been hollowed out, leaving her drowning in suffocating despair.

She had lost the meaning of her existence—her very soul.

Sinking into the ocean of hopelessness, her thoughts spiraled downward, dragging her reason along with them.

“It’s all my fault… if only I had returned sooner…” Her voice trembled, the sound of something breaking, as she stared blankly at the still-burning ruins of the courtyard.

Her heart was shattered, leaving only regret.

The pain was unbearable, robbing her of breath, consuming her mind.

Her inner collapse far exceeded the physical injuries she bore.

At this moment, Krisha wanted desperately to cry, but her empty, lifeless eyes produced no tears.

The grief trapped in her chest became a torment, gnawing at her relentlessly. Numbness spread to her limbs, leaving her paralyzed with guilt.

“Why… why can’t I…”

“I can’t even cry for my Master…”

“What right do I have to live like this, as the useless person I am?”

The 16-year-old witch knelt motionless, her pupils trembling, reflecting her pain.

She clutched her head tightly and began striking it against the hard ground. Again and again.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four times.

The witch struck herself over and over, as though numb to the pain. Or perhaps she welcomed it, using it to replace the tears she couldn’t shed, trying to dilute the overwhelming guilt in her heart.

But it was futile.

No matter what she did, the person she cared for most was gone.

When she realized this, Krisha stopped hitting her head. Blood trickled from her forehead, sliding down the corners of her eyes, her cheeks, and her nose, pooling at her chin.

The drops fell to the ground like crimson tears.

Finally, the despair overtook her entirely, swallowing the personality known as “Krisha.” Her pale golden eyes darkened, turning black from within, like a void consuming everything.

It wasn’t just a metaphor for her emotional state. The change was real—physical.

Her golden irises were gone, replaced by emptiness. Her thoughts, her will, everything was extinguished.

The girl knelt there, unmoving, even as the flames crept closer.

Part of her almost welcomed the fire, eager to let it consume her.

But then…

A hand appeared.

A large, kind hand reached through the smoke and flames, ignoring the dirt and grime, and gently lifted her from despair.

Along with the hand came a voice—familiar and warm.

“What’s wrong, Krisha?”

“Are you hurt?”

“Let me heal you first.”

The sound cut through the suffocating darkness like a miracle, pulling Krisha’s consciousness back from the void.

Her blank, blackened pupils trembled. Slowly, as if grasping onto salvation, the golden hue returned to her eyes.

The witch looked up, dazed, to see Xu Xi standing before her.

Her heartstrings, broken and frayed, were suddenly reconnected.

Her soul, drowning in despair, was pulled to safety.

Even the crushing sadness that had filled her chest dissipated with a single breath.

There was no explanation, no logic. It was simply because he—her sun—had returned.

“…I’m fine, Master,” she whispered.

As long as you’re here, I’ll be fine.

Afraid it might all be a dream or an illusion, she reached out with trembling hands, gripping Xu Xi’s palm tightly.

She didn’t want to let go.

“This…” Xu Xi hesitated, his eyes scanning Krisha’s battered and bloodied appearance.

The words “I’m fine” clearly didn’t apply.

Earlier, while practicing magic in his study, Xu Xi’s observer entry had activated on its own. He became aware of the incoming attack and quickly cast defensive magic, saving himself.

Realizing Krisha was still outside, he flew to the market to search for her but found nothing.

Finally, he returned to the ruins of the courtyard to wait—and found Krisha kneeling there alone.

Her bloodied wounds, her soiled clothes, her expression of relief—it all spoke of what she had endured.

“Buzz—”

Light green energy glowed from Xu Xi’s palm as he used life magic to heal Krisha’s injuries.

Afterward, he gently asked what had happened.

Krisha didn’t hesitate. She told him everything.

She had believed Xu Xi was dead.

She had blamed herself, sinking into despair among the ruins.

She had even tried to stop the fireball, risking her life to protect the courtyard.

Now, with Xu Xi by her side, her face had returned to its usual calm, emotionless state.

But that very calmness made Xu Xi’s heart ache.

“Crackle—”

The surrounding flames burned fiercely, their tongues of fire climbing the walls, blackening the surfaces. Occasionally, mechanical equipment exploded under the heat, adding to the chaos.

Amid the fiery destruction and billowing smoke, Krisha’s small figure looked even more fragile.

Her clothes were scorched, her body covered in cuts and bruises.

Her face, though expressionless, still bore traces of despair.

“Krisha, I’m sorry.”

“I should have come for you sooner.”

“It’s my fault as your Master for leaving you to face this alone.”

Xu Xi gently stroked her hair, his touch delicate as he wiped the blood from her face. His voice was full of regret.

He should have done better—saved both himself and Krisha from this crisis.

But Xu Xi had underestimated Allenson’s leadership.

He had never imagined their departure was a prelude to destroying the city.

The entire city.

Along with the hundreds of thousands of residents within it.

It defied reason.

Xu Xi couldn’t fathom what purpose this destruction served.

His miscalculation had led to this. And for that, he blamed himself.

“It’s okay, Master,” Krisha replied softly, shaking her head.

She didn’t care about any of it.

As long as Xu Xi was back by her side, looking at her again, she was content.

That was her mindset as an “object.”

If she had more thoughts—more selfish desires—she feared she would become a burden to him.

And Krisha never wanted to be a burden.

Seeing her stubbornness, Xu Xi could only care for her in his own way.

He summoned a ball of water and carefully wiped the soot and blood from her face, restoring her delicate features.

Throughout it all, Krisha remained quiet.

She sat there like a porcelain doll, letting him clean her.

When he finished, her face was clean and pale once more, a stark contrast to the devastation around them.

Xu Xi’s gaze turned to the sky.

He had originally thought leaving Allenson City would only require careful planning to gather supplies for their journey.

But now, he realized the true challenge was escaping the city itself.

The meteor shower that had devastated Allenson was just the beginning.

The real threat came from the creatures swarming into the city.

Orcs. Goblins. Pure-blood demons. Beasts of war.

“What were the senior officials of Allenson planning,” Xu Xi murmured, his voice heavy, “when they allowed these aliens to overrun their own city?”