Chapter 2 - The Journey pt 1 - The Witch

Name: Lars Mertens

Age: 17

Birthday: 12 February

Personality: Calm, composed, with a natural confidence. Lars is reliable, diplomatic, and thoughtful, often taking a more strategic approach to situations. In battle, a wilder, more arrogant side takes over him, due to his Mind Magic.

Strengths: Tactical thinker, strong sense of duty, adaptable in difficult situations.

Weaknesses: Can be overly cautious, occasionally struggles with the weight of expectations from his sister's success, he can be very erratic in speech.

Favourite things: Roast chicken with herbs and vegetables, a walk in winter in the snow, spotting falcons.

So last time we left off, I was giving you guys a ton of exposition, and Lars set off on his 3-day journey to reach the Royal Capital. Lars, at this point, had travelled for the majority of the day through many forests and open plains, so when he saw a small village, that was a welcome sight. A rest would be good.

Lars landed in the village, feeling grateful for a break from his journey. But as he looked around, he noticed something strange: the streets were empty, the houses shuttered tight, and not a soul in sight. Just as he was beginning to wonder if the place was deserted, a hand shot out of nowhere, grabbed him by the sleeve, and yanked him into a small, dimly lit building. Startled, Lars twisted around, ready to draw his dagger.

"What the heck was that for?!" he demanded, pulling his arm free as his eyes adjusted to the dim light.

The man who'd pulled him inside—a wiry, gray-haired villager with a look of intense worry—raised a finger to his lips, his eyes wide with fear. "Quiet, or the Witch will hear us, you fool!" he whispered, glancing nervously toward the door, as though expecting someone to burst in at any moment.

Lars's confusion only grew. "What witch?" he asked, keeping his voice low but firm.

The villager shifted, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. "The Witch of Poison," he whispered. "She's a mage, a powerful one. Been haunting our village for days now. Anyone who's gone against her has met a nasty end, and she's poisoned nearly everything—our fields, our wells… there's nothing left. People are falling ill." He looked down, visibly distressed. "The way I hear it, she's got herself a cursed artifact, something that amplifies her magic. She's been unstoppable."

Lars's expression grew darker as he listened, a shadow falling over his usually bright gaze. "And the village?" he asked. "Why is everyone hiding?"

"Because," the villager replied, a hint of desperation in his voice, "anyone who so much as steps outside risks being cursed. People can't even gather herbs without her finding out." He shook his head. "We're starving, with nothing to eat or drink. And here you are, walking in the streets like it's an ordinary day!"

The villager went on, but Lars's mind was already elsewhere, piecing together his plan. If the witch was using a magic item, that meant she could be beaten—if he moved fast enough. He took a deep breath, his eyes flashing with resolve.

"Where are you going?" the villager demanded, his face paling as he noticed Lars reaching for his broom.

"I'm going to find that mage," Lars said simply, his tone calm but determined.

The villager grabbed his arm, eyes wide with horror. "Are you insane?! She'll tear you apart. Or worse!"

But Lars just looked at him with a steady gaze. "No one should live in fear like this. I'll put an end to it." And with that, he pulled free from the villager's grip, threw open the door, and strode out into the empty streets, already tracking the faint but unmistakable mana signature that pulsed from the edge of the village.

Finally, he caught sight of her. The mage stood with an air of dark elegance, her long, flowing black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of shadow, sharply contrasting with her pale skin. Her piercing violet eyes glinted with a quiet intensity, reflecting both her cunning intelligence and the sinister nature of her poison magic. Her attire, mirroring her witch-like aura, was both beautiful and terrifying. A black gown adorned with intricate, swirling patterns of deep purple clung to her slender frame, while a cloak lined with dark feathers flowed behind her, lending her an ethereal presence that was both captivating and menacing. A silver pendant shaped like a serpent hung from her neck—a subtle nod to her lethal abilities—and her tall, lace-up boots gave her a graceful yet imposing stature.

Hovering above the battlefield, she wore a cold, unflinching expression. Toxic projectiles rained down from her, sizzling through the air and striking at anything that dared to move. Her intent was clear—total destruction, no mercy. When her eyes landed on Lars amidst the chaos, they sharpened, locking onto him with predatory precision. Without hesitation, she conjured a particularly large, ominous orb of poison and hurled it toward him with deadly accuracy.

Lars heard the whistling of the attack before he saw it. He sidestepped effortlessly, the noxious bomb splattering onto the ground beside him and hissing as it melted into the soil. The stench of poison filled the air, but Lars maintained his focus, a grin spreading across his face, though his eyes remained alert, watching her every move.

"Oi! What was that for?" he called out, feigning nonchalance despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

She barely flinched, her gaze cool and calculating as she descended slightly, making her presence even more intimidating. "This is the mage they sent to defeat me? How… disappointing," she replied, her voice low, laced with venom.

Lars straightened, doing his best to keep the tension from creeping into his tone. "Hey, maybe we can talk this out, yeah? A peaceful solution wouldn't hurt anyone."

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. There was no amusement in her expression, only cold contempt. "Peace?" she hissed. "Peace was never an option."

With a flick of her wrist, another barrage of poison bombs burst forth, arcing through the air like missiles locked onto their target. This time, she wasn't holding back. The projectiles streaked toward Lars faster than before, each one a deadly threat that he could not simply evade.

Lars felt a surge of panic, but he quickly quelled it, drawing upon the latent telekinetic abilities he had been honing in secret. He didn't have a diverse repertoire of spells—only his Mind Magic, and his knowledge of subjugation. But he was clever, and he had always relied on his wits to navigate perilous situations.

As the first projectile neared, Lars raised his hand, concentrating on the air around him. With a surge of will, he created a barrier of telekinetic energy that shimmered into existence before him. The poison bomb slammed against it, exploding in a shower of green mist, but the barrier held, and he was unharmed.

"Not bad," Lars muttered to himself, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he prepared for the next wave. "Let's see how you handle this."

He concentrated harder, manipulating the air currents around him to create a shield-like barrier, but also to redirect the incoming poison projectiles back toward her. As he released his hold, a couple of the toxic orbs were caught in the currents, spiraling around before hurtling back at the mage with surprising speed.

She barely had time to react. The redirected projectiles struck her off guard, bursting upon impact and showering her with her own poison. A look of shock crossed her face, momentarily breaking her confident facade.

"Looks like your own magic can bite back," Lars called, emboldened by the small victory.

Seizing the moment, he channeled his energy again, focusing on the ground beneath her. With a surge of telekinesis, he attempted to destabilize her footing. The earth trembled slightly, causing her to stumble as it shifted, but she quickly regained her balance, a scowl twisting her lips.

"Is this your grand plan?" she sneered, a hint of fury creeping into her tone. "Playing with dirt?"

Lars grinned, undeterred. "Not just dirt. Think of it as… an uneven playing field."

With renewed focus, he aimed to manipulate the surrounding debris. Small rocks and remnants of the village's former glory began to swirl around him, lifting into the air as he commanded them with his mind. It was a simple tactic, but he hoped to catch her off guard again.

As he sent the makeshift projectiles hurtling toward her, she retaliated with another wave of poison bombs. The two forces collided in mid-air, creating a colorful explosion of toxic green and earthy brown. Lars ducked to the side, using the momentary distraction to launch a more powerful attack.

"Mind Magic: Subjugation!" he shouted, the pink book he carried shooting into the air beside him. The white three-leaf clover emblem glimmered as the pages began flipping, his heart racing in anticipation.

A wave of shimmering energy pulsed from Lars and surged toward the mage, wrapping around her like tendrils of light. Her movements slowed, the outstretched arm that had been ready to launch yet another attack faltered mid-swing. Her eyes dulled, losing their cruel intensity, and her body slackened as if her will had been drained away in an instant. She was completely under his control now.

Lars stepped forward, confidence surging through him as he faced her weakened form. "Go to the Royal Capital and turn yourself in," he commanded, his voice steady and unwavering.

The mage nodded blankly, her once fierce demeanor shattered by Lars' spell. Without another word, she turned and began walking, her footsteps slow but deliberate, heading toward the Royal Capital. Lars noted the path she took, recognizing the significance of her surrender—a chance to quell her poison and bring peace to the village.

As the immediate threat faded, the villagers, who had been hiding in terror, began to emerge from their homes. At first, only a few cautious heads peeked out from doorways, but when they saw the mage walking away under Lars' command and him standing tall, victorious, the cheers began to rise.

Lars couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as he turned to face the villagers. They looked at him with a mix of gratitude and awe, their eyes reflecting the hope he had fought to restore. In that moment, he knew he had done more than just defeat a powerful enemy; he had proven that cleverness and determination could prevail even in the face of overwhelming darkness.

"He did it!" someone yelled.

"He beat her!" shouted another, and before long, the entire village was alight with joy. People rushed toward Lars, their faces lit with relief and gratitude. Before he could even react, a group of villagers picked him up, hoisting him high into the air.

"Three cheers for our savior!" a villager shouted, starting the chant.

"Hip hip!"

"Hooray!"

"Hip hip!"

"Hooray!"

"Hip hip!"

"Hooray!"

The town mayor, a portly man who was simply dressed, with a moustache that would have made the Austrian painter jealous, came up to Lars with an expression of extreme gratitude on his face. "You have saved us! This strong mage has saved us! As the Mayor of Generia Village, I thank you on behalf of the people," he said with a gracious zeal. He then hurriedly stated, " I should repay you for your kind deeds."

Lars, who had zoned out due to the unusual amount of attention he was receiving, quickly snapped back to attention and said with a warm smile, "I just need to stay the night." He yawned, stretching. Before he could blink, the villagers had rushed him to a bed and tucked him in. Lars, who was at this point very confused, decided to just not think too much of it. As he lay in bed, thinking about what the next day would bring, he smiled.

I'm finally making you proud…Mother.