Chapter 33: Farewell

Reflections Amid Ashes

Ashes drifted through the heated air, scattering near the inviolable silver hair. She wondered if she had made a mistake. But this was likely the best outcome, wasn’t it? Had she not chosen to arrive early, that single beast could have razed this village. Such incidents couldn’t happen often—how else could the common folk of small villages survive?

Wenger recalled the streak of fire that had crossed the sky. These details, occurring at the story’s outset, were absent from the text in her memory. She only knew it was beginning… and hoped all would be well. She prayed silently, pulling out a map to gauge the approximate distance from here to the other side.

It wasn’t a journey she could make quickly. A squad of dozens should be able to handle any trouble, especially with Aiden’s subordinate leading. No need to worry too much. She’d stay here a bit longer tonight, keeping watch.

Midway through, Taote and a few others approached, seemingly to offer thanks. But seeing her aloof, silent demeanor, they retreated quietly. With no bed to rest in and meditation stalled at a bottleneck, daydreaming became a decent pastime. The long night dragged on. After the attack, the entire village worked through the night, with no one resting.

Wenger sheathed her sword, wiping the blade with a cloth. She could feel its abnormality directly—a heartbeat-like rhythm faintly transmitted. Would it be better to bury it again? If someone else took it, she’d be in even worse trouble. Just as the one who locked it away surely hadn’t wanted someone to stroll into the stone forest palace and take the Nameless Sword so easily.

Had she known, she would’ve chosen [Cleric]. A normal progression would’ve been simpler than the bizarre [Witch] class. The ominous pulsing grew stronger. The next moment, bloodvines spread from the sword, wrapping around her hand, sinking in without hesitation. Oddly, it didn’t hurt much.

[Witch (0)] Something mysterious seemed to flow from the sword into her. A status window appeared, and the bloodvines retreated as if their task was complete. A numerical reward?

Wenger swung her fist—nothing felt different. Channeling her mental energy, there was no change either. The value was probably too low—after all, it read zero. If it was negligible, it wouldn’t have triggered. Rounded up, it still wouldn’t reach one.

She mulled over this and that, occasionally sorting through the plot. Time slipped by her side. At some point, the girl emerged from the church, holding a bowl. Aika approached Wenger, offering a large bowl brimming with fruit. “Would you like to come inside and eat something, big sister?”

Wenger took an apple from the wooden tray. “No, thank you.” She had some details to ask about, and since the girl had come to her, she didn’t need to seek anyone out. Aika was initially reserved but soon opened up, chatting freely.

For instance, the village pastor was injured. The invasion had lasted days, all tied to the “meteor” that had streaked by. In the game’s storyline, players fought from battlefields to the royal city, then cleared minor monsters in the northern territories with no interaction, eventually triggering a grand boss battle at the “place where the stars fell.” But that was far in the future—years away in the world she now lived in.

These small stories in remote areas had already begun at this time, just fragmented in the text, requiring piecing together and imagination. Players, as passing observers, lacked both a god’s-eye view and a first-person perspective to see the full story. Without Wenger’s help, everyone in this village would likely have died, becoming dust in history. Her decision had altered the minor threads of history, and she had become part of this story.

Aika nodded off, exhausted by worry and fear. Still, she forced herself to stay awake, shyly expressing gratitude and explaining why others kept their distance. They feared disturbing her—common folk’s thanks seemed insignificant, perhaps even bothersome to someone of her stature. Besides, even those who witnessed her actions hadn’t seen a powerhouse like Wenger before.

In this remote corner, where people saw only a sliver of the sky like frogs in a well, it wasn’t ignorance—just a small world. To them, Wenger was no different from a deity. Weren’t the miracles Pastor Moro preached about just like this?

Wenger listened, a bit dazed. When she first arrived, she was only slightly stronger than average. But her versatile template already surpassed most people’s potential. Her journey hadn’t been smooth sailing. At the third tier, she was already beyond ordinary comprehension. Beyond that, the path of transcendence was indeed inhuman.

Departure at Dawn

At dawn, Wenger used her mental energy to check everything once more before preparing to leave. Her pony was still outside the village—she wasn’t sure if it had stayed put. The villagers gathered to see her off, wanting to approach yet keeping a respectful distance. It was a feeling Wenger hadn’t experienced in a while, and today it felt novel.

In Maple Whisper Village, she was at ease. Only by leaving did she feel the differences in human interactions. In a way, staying secluded in the village was no different from holing up in a house. She was on her way to becoming a social recluse. Though her personality didn’t require it, hardship taught humility, and she wanted to learn more, just in case.

Wenger didn’t say much. Establishing authority might’ve been wise, but she had no interest in it. Over the years, her temperament had softened considerably. Yet, after her experiences, the basic logic of speaking with fists had only grown more ingrained. If she couldn’t even defend herself, what did it matter if someone encroached on her territory?

Later in the timeline, when the kingdom descended into chaos, no one would care about her quietly growing stronger. Thus, the silver-haired witch left only a name in the village before vanishing.

Wenger found her horse in a small grove, patting it before heading toward the main road. “You’re pretty clever.” The horse neighed twice, as if responding.

Through the woods, the view widened. Unobstructed, she could see the distant mountain valleys—the way home in this world. With a slight feeling, she pulled the reins, pausing in the middle of the road. A messenger pigeon flew from the north, landing gently on her hand as she beckoned. [Affinity] was quite useful in this regard.

The note bore good news. She tucked it back and released the pigeon, which flew south again. The previous scouting missions had left markers—quite meticulous.

Just as she was about to head north, a west wind brought news of approaching visitors. Wenger turned, but her attention was first drawn to movement from the direction of the soft wind’s ridge. A group was approaching, and soon they drew near. She quickly recognized the three.

As if recalling the evening, Wenger asked, “Are you coming back?” Rella smiled at her without answering. Anna invited her to visit Seyang City sometime, then nodded with Roger before preparing to leave. But a startled voice halted them.

“Anna?” A black horse galloped forward, the wind swirling around it, bold yet composed. Vick gently pulled the reins, curiously eyeing the three before stopping naturally beside Wenger to speak.