NotAHero
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Chapter 2.5: These new generations just keep getting worse and worse!
🕑 Added 2024-09-16 01:23:20 +0000 UTCShe narrowed her eyes at me at that before she uncrossed her arms.
"Very well."
She turned a brief look to her protege, earning a quick thumbs up from the angry witchlet, and turned back towards me.
"Would you mind explaining to me how you managed to kill one of the brightest witches of this generation, with such ease?" She raised an eyebrow at me, as if said eyebrow could compel me to answer faster or some other nonesense-
"Oh, I shot her with a Glock." I quickly answered, unashamed.
Both of them blinked in bemusement at that. "Excuse me?" The old, balding, one replied. Which honestly was kind of surprising. There was a craft for a receding hairline.
"I shot her with a gun." I clarified.
"...A gun?" The same disbelieving look was still been sent my way for some reason. "A... modified gun? Which craft did you use?" Her expression held a hint of sheer utter curiosity in it now, along with bewilderment.
"The bullet craft." I deadpanned.
"...I have never heard of such a craft." The older one admitted, before turning towards her protege with a questioning look, only to earn a just as confused shrug, before she turned back to me and mulled over her next words.
"You can find it in a gun store," I added on. "It's just a regular bullet, you know." I snorted.
Paranoia and disbelief rapidly filled the older witch's face, while just disbelief filled Pinkie.
"That's not possible."
"That's what her face said before the bullet went through it." I snorted. "It was kinda funny actually."
After a very tense moment, the older witch nodded her head slowly. "Very well, despite the impossibility of it... I shall have to take your word that you managed to catch such a talented witch off guard enough for that to... perhaps be enough to damage her..?"
Even I could tell she didn't believe half the crap she just sprawled! Gods, at least be honest with yourselves. I shook my head in disappointment, the new generations really were just such a disappointment!
"Why?" The older witch eventually found her footing again as she continued along with Precep Number Four. "Why did you create an army of zombies?"
"I wanted a promotion," I answered honestly. "The jumping forward in time was because I knew I wasn't gonna get it anymore."
"Pro..." The older witch and her protege both looked at me like I was crazy.
"A promotion!" Pinkie felt the urge to finish her word. "What the hell-" Only to to promptly find a hand snaking around her mouth for almost interrupting the trial.
Kudos to the master on that one, I knew a few witches in the past who'd found themselves in trouble because their students got a little too excited during one of these!
After a moment of just staring at her protege, and no doubt warning her to keep her mouth shut, she turned back towards me with a level look.
"Very well, you wished for a promotion." My eyes widened slightly knowing what was about to come next, the future hag was taking what I said the wrong way! "What witch title do you currently-"
"Same problem as asking me about my name. And answer actually. Sooo, save that for the end?" I cut her off again before she could ask the question fully, though I at least had a smile on my face to make her feel slightly more at ease. Only this time instead of annoyance or anger, I watched as dread filled her face.
Which was probably fair... every witch I've met with the same name as her title had been a pain in the butt from my experience.
I let out a sigh.
The promotion answer might've just turned this entire thing... unfavorable for everyone involved now.
"...That's not possible..." The older witch whispered, her demeanour rapidly making the confusion that had kept hold of her protege thus far turn into... well, poor Pinkie now looked as gobsmacked as the witch I'd put down with the gun.
"Master..?" Pinkie questioned slowly tugging at the older one's sleeves. "What's going on?" She turned a look towards me briefly, a look I met with a smile.
It wasn't long before I felt the craft for the Preceps rapidly disappear from the room I was in as the elder witch promptly waved a hand before the window and made it and the part of the wall that held it up disappear before she started walking closer towards me, slowly.
I watched her somewhat shaking hand reach inside her pocket as she moved closer and closer, the Truth crafts in the room strengthening as the witch added more of them into the room and when she seemingly reached the last of what she had on hand she immediately switched to throwing one Obligation craft after another into the room- Woof, the sheer amount of resources the woman had just thrown was almost commendable!
Remember the part where I said new crafts were made with bad-behaving witches?
Pinkie's master had just dropped the equivalent of three generations worth at me! And said younger witch looked suitably freaked out at that particular fact. Every one of those crafts takes a few years before they're once again ready for use.
"Master-"
"Stay behind and hold the bindings!"
Pinkie stiffened at the command and rapidly quieted down as the shaken older witch pointed a just as shaking finger at me- "Who... who are you!?" She questioned pooling in as much of her own natural reserves as she could into the command.
I tilted my head as I felt the command hit me before snorting at the woman. It didn't really do anything, but I guess I might aswell answer if only to avoid any further escalations!
"Pisces," I answered easily, and given my audience was actually composed of witches as opposed to normies, she heard the full weight of what that meant.
Naturally, she froze, widened her eyes and took a step back.
"Once called the Last of The Constellations but..." I remarked before letting a beat pass as the grin faltered from my face, my gaze lowering to the ground. "I am also credited... as The Walking Disaster..." I let out a sigh, looked back up and gave her a lackadaisical smile. "That's me!"
Still, I gave them a moment to process my words, because politeness is a virtue after all.
I may be a witch, but I sure as a devil ain't rude!
"Now can you please get me out of this jacket?" I implored. "The lack of fashion sense on this thing is literally starting to itch at my skin." I shuddered in minor horror.
"...That's not possible..." The 'Master' muttered, while Pinkie just blinked a few times evidently still just as confused as earlier.
Ugh, what do they even teach the kids these days? Like sure, most of their history lessons on me are wrong but at least teach it to them anyway!
"I assure you it's really starting to itch," I added on with a frown. "Like, bad."
"You..." The old witch continued, visibly shaking in fear for some reason. "You shouldn't be alive!"
I gave her a deadpan, slightly twitchy, look at that. "And whose fault is that!?" I questioned, incredulous. "The devil do you think I tried starting that reincarnation craft for!?"
...
Following my little reveal, I wasn't particularly surprised to see them disappear back through the way they came in with the wall and window returned to normal.
Letting out a sigh at my luck, I idly took in the reflection I could make out of the mirror. Took in the crown of blonde hair and dull grey eyes that filled the somewhat narrow face- Which meant that my appearance-changing crafts were still in effect... which, was kind of necessary. I can't say I was too happy with how this turned out in all honesty but it was the hand I was dealt and there wasn't much I could do about it.
Well, that was a lie, there was a lot I could do about it but abusing True Magic over something as trivial as my appearance wasn't the best of ideas.
My eyes immediately narrowed as I felt a shift in the air. The two witches, though they'd disappeared out of my sight, I could still briefly feel their presence.
That presence had just vanished.
And honestly, now that I think about it, I hadn't immediately noticed their presence earlier either, mostly because I was too busy preparing myself for the whole acclimation process following a reincarnation and not due to lacking self-awareness.
Even if I technically did lack self-awareness thanks to seven magical pills. Though that was a moot excuse considering their effects had long since disappeared.
Regardless, my first thought to their sudden vanishing was that they'd probably used a brand new craft that surrounded instant travel- Which alone was an impossibility on its own.
Teleportation was something I could barely pull off which meant any normal witch definitely couldn't. You know, on account of the fact that I am the literal origin of witchcraft so I had a pretty decent idea of what a regular mortal could do.
Crafting, source of witchcrafting. Specifically the magical aspect is what I am responsible for by the way! I take no responsibility for the actual users of it!
Sure, certain demons definitely could pull it off but seeing as I couldn't smell any nearby, I doubted it. Also, the demons that are actually capable of it numbered in the few, and none of them took to orders very well.
Especially against a bigger fish.
Not to mention spatial manipulation was generally a very bad idea unless one had a geniune degree in physics, and I really doubted there was a witch that would've bothered with an advanced education that didn't involve magic.
So they were definitely still in the area... Just hidden under a very, very good craft, and there was only one witch I knew capable of that. Which was bad news for me, unfortunately.
And no C, not because I was actually scared of her or anything. It was unfortunate because it meant the Old Hag was still alive.
That was a straight bummer.
The fact she was the head of the most recent Coven I'd tried to join a hundred and fifty years ago and was still somehow kicking meant she got up to some shady projects. Though I doubted she'd drain the lifespan out of any other witch. Trust me, she wouldn't be alive right now if she did, that crap was definitely kept track of given the Fuckery of Sixteen-seventy-nine.
That was a hell of a year!
Still sucking lifespans wasn't exactly the only way to make one's lifespan longer. Stealing a child's lifespan was just the easiest way to do it, and also the fastest way to get burned alive by a death craft or two. And that's if the Devil himself didn't take matters into his own hand.
And as much as I wanna find out which method she'd gone for, mostly to reverse it so I could watch the irritating bag of dust turn into an actual bag of dust.
That'd be a hell of a memory to have.
"So, still sticking random baby girls with a scripture to see if they have any magical talent these days? You know that was never confirmed to work right and by that I mean I told y'all you were been stupid." I elected to see if the woman was going to bother showing herself at this point.
"Still sucking the life out of everyone you meet? And I mean that literally." The gravelly voice echoed back at me.
Whoopee do, we're done playing whose who apparently.
I narrowed my eyes the slightest bit, though kept the smile on my face. "Still trying to find the elusive boy-witch you dreamed about?" A beat passed. "Oh my bad, I mean wizard, maybe he's stuck in a train somewhere, have you considered that?"
"There are no real rules that suggest only a female can be born with the innate magical talent required to form a dea-"
And there she blows!
Ugh, I always forget talking to the Old Hag was like talking to an AI with a bitchy personality.
And said bitchy personality finally decided to actually showcase herself as she, along with the other two reappeared on the other side of the window.
"Oh bother, how many times do I gotta tell you that boys are literally not fit for witchcraft, they're fit to take an aspect of a demon. Literally." A beat passed. "The devil takes the special males, and the old hags take the special females. Tale is as old as your crusty wrinkles. And sometimes boyish-demon meets girly-witch, super baby gets born and everyone celebrates the three natural disasters that occur-"
"...There is no confirmation that male children are been inscribed with a demonic pact. If there is we have yet to see any, and for that matter, there's no feasible way to explain how such a secret would've been kept for centuries on end-"
God, why do I even do this to myself? I know I am arguing with a Roman brick wall, I instinctively know nothing will ever shift the blasted old hag's opinion and yet-
"Oh, oh, I got this one! It involves not shitting on their original teacher, that being the Devil for them, and me for you, and cracking the barrel of laughs that your security is wide open." A beat passed.
The old bag of grey hairs just gave me a very straight-faced look. "Why on earth would any mortal male, without any understanding of magic, or witch society, actively accept such an inscription? Demons, to the normal world, are considered evil, and so-"
"I hear demon chicks are hot." I cut her off and held in the urge to rub the coming headache away at the sudden smile that cut through the bag of dust's face.
"Aha. So if a demon can be born of either origin, why is there a limitation when it comes to a witch-"
"'Cos the bloody dinosaurs died you old hag!"
"...You're as insufferably insane as ever." The wrinkled witch sighed, dressed in pitch black, very worn, robes straight out of a bedtime story. I idly took in the fact her pockmarked skin had quite literally evolved across the rest of her face, the crown of grey surprisingly still existing hair and- holy crap on a basket, now that I actually noticed, her eyes looked like they'd gone through a nuclear meltdown!
I know witches generally had better resistance to mundane illnesses but there was only so much yellow one's eyes should take!
Sheesh! Just kick the bucket already, those eyes are a crime against nature!
"You're just plain insufferable. Sane or not." I remarked after a brief moment.
...
