Chapter 65: Il Capitan
Dorothy Unsworth's life in the Witches' Forest was nothing short of a fairy tale—if fairy tales were laced with shadows, secrets, and the quiet weight of unfulfilled dreams. The forest itself was a place of wonder and menace, its twisted trees and shimmering foliage steeped in ancient magic. For the young Dorothy, it was both her playground and her prison.
Her mother, the Witch Queen, was a towering presence—both in stature and in influence. She was a figure of terrifying grace, her voice sharp as a blade and her aura commanding as the sun. To Dorothy, she wasn't just a mother. She was an institution, the embodiment of power, and the architect of every choice Dorothy could or could not make.
From the moment she was born, Dorothy's path had been laid out before her. As the Witch Queen's daughter, she was expected to be her mother's heir—a wielder of unparalleled magic, a leader without peer, and a symbol of the Witches' Forest's dominion. The Queen was exacting in her tutelage, ensuring that Dorothy mastered her Dream Magic to a degree that rivaled the legends.
"Your dreams are your power, Dorothy," her mother often said, her voice soft but unyielding. "In them lies the strength to control all realities. But dreams untamed are chaos. And chaos has no place on the throne."
Dorothy nodded dutifully each time, but the weight of those words always lingered. She spent hours in the ethereal haze of her dreamscapes, practicing control over the boundless possibilities her magic could create. Her mother's presence was always there, her watchful gaze a constant reminder that failure was not an option.
But Dorothy was not like her mother. Where the Witch Queen exuded cold precision and calculated intent, Dorothy's heart yearned for something freer, lighter. She loved the way dreams could twist into silliness, how they could bend the rules of reality not to dominate, but to inspire laughter, wonder, and joy. She would often create fantastical worlds in her mind—a land of singing mushrooms, rivers of candy, and skies painted in impossible colors.
"You waste your potential," her mother once said when she stumbled upon Dorothy laughing in her dreamscape, surrounded by dancing clouds and giggling stars. "You think this is play? You are the Queen's daughter. You are meant to command, not entertain."
Dorothy's smile faltered. "But what's the point of power if it's not fun?"
"Power is survival. Power is control. Power is everything." The Witch Queen's tone was ice. "Do not forget that."
As Dorothy grew older, the expectations only grew heavier. Her days were consumed by lessons in magic, diplomacy, and combat. Her nights were filled with dreams—sometimes her own, sometimes those her mother imposed on her. The Queen's magic allowed her to step into Dorothy's dreamscapes, turning them into battlegrounds where the young witch was forced to prove herself again and again.
Dorothy often wondered if her mother ever rested. It seemed that even in dreams, the Witch Queen's mind was always working, always planning. And that frightened Dorothy. She feared becoming her mother—a ruler who saw joy as a weakness and dreams as nothing more than tools for power.
One night, as the moonlight filtered through the dense canopy of the Witches' Forest, Dorothy sat by a shimmering pool, her reflection rippling with each breath. She stared into her own eyes, searching for answers in the stillness.
"Why must it be this way?" she whispered to the silence.
The Witch Queen appeared behind her, her footsteps silent but her presence unmistakable. "Because the world is cruel, Dorothy. And if you are not strong, it will devour you."
Dorothy looked up, her gaze filled with an earnestness that caught even her mother off guard. "But can't strength be...kind? Can't it make people happy instead of afraid?"
The Queen's expression softened for the briefest moment, a flicker of something unspoken crossing her face. Then, just as quickly, it was gone. "Happiness is fleeting. Fear endures. Remember that."
It was during a particularly brutal lesson that Dorothy made her decision. The Queen had conjured a nightmare—a twisted labyrinth where shadows whispered threats and the walls closed in with every wrong turn. Dorothy was meant to master her fear, to overcome the illusion through sheer will. But instead of fighting, Dorothy did something unexpected: she laughed.
The laughter started softly, then grew louder, echoing through the labyrinth. The shadows faltered, their whispers becoming confused murmurs. The walls stopped closing in. Dorothy's laughter was like a melody, a defiance of the darkness around her.
Her mother watched from the edge of the dreamscape, her expression unreadable. When Dorothy finally emerged, the Queen said nothing. But Dorothy knew in that moment that she would never be the heir her mother wanted.
When Dorothy finally left the Witches' Forest, it was not with anger or rebellion, but with a quiet determination. She did not want to rule the forest or wield power in her mother's image. She wanted to create a life where dreams were not weapons, but sanctuaries—where laughter and absurdity were strengths, not weaknesses.
Her journey led her to the Silver Eagles, where her whimsical nature found a home. She became known for her dreamy demeanor, her perpetual smile, and her unpredictable magic. But beneath the surface, Dorothy carried the lessons of the Witches' Forest: the understanding of power, the weight of expectations, and the quiet rebellion of a girl who chose joy over fear.
And though she rarely spoke of her past, there were moments—fleeting and subtle—when her eyes betrayed a deeper sadness, a memory of the mother she loved but could never truly understand.
…
The Captain stared at the chimera through half-lidded eyes, her Dream Magic twisting the battlefield into a surreal landscape. The pastel skies churned with stormy hues, and the ground rippled like liquid marble underfoot. The chimera's three heads snarled in unison, their sharp, primal eyes scanning the unfamiliar terrain with growing agitation. It was massive—its lion, serpent, and hawk heads moving with a terrifying synchrony as it adjusted to the strange new world Dorothy had constructed.
"Hideous and brutish," Kirsch declared, striking a theatrical pose as cherry blossoms spun around him in a shimmering vortex. "This unseemly creature dares to defile the beauty of the battlefield? Unforgivable!"
The serpent head hissed venomously, its fangs glinting in the distorted light, and lunged at him with lightning speed. Kirsch sidestepped gracefully, a curtain of blossoms shielding him from the venomous spray. His face betrayed a flicker of annoyance. "Ugh, vile and messy. Can you at least die gracefully?"
"Kirsch," Dorothy said, her tone flat, though her eyes were sharp with warning. "Focus. It's adapting to the dreamscape faster than I expected."
Kirsch huffed, raising his grimoire as more blossoms formed around him. "Rest assured, Captain, I am always focused. After all, beauty requires precision."
The chimera's hawk head shrieked, unleashing a gale-force wind that rattled the dreamscape. The swirling pastel clouds twisted into spirals, and the floating platforms trembled under the pressure. Dorothy's brows furrowed slightly as she reinforced the Glamour World's integrity, the strain evident in the faint tremor of her hands. Her grimoire glowed brighter as she manipulated the environment, altering the winds into harmless glittering streams that danced harmlessly through the air.
The lion head roared next, a torrent of flame surging forward, igniting the edges of the dreamscape in a blaze of fiery hues. Dorothy leaped backward onto a floating platform, her calm demeanor never faltering. With a flick of her wrist, the flames dissolved into swirling motes of light that spiraled into the dreamscape's ether.
"Quite dramatic for such a grotesque beast," Kirsch quipped, summoning a whirling vortex of cherry blossoms. "Allow me to show you what true elegance looks like!" His petals erupted toward the chimera, forming a concentrated beam that slashed across the serpent head's scales. The attack landed with precision, leaving a jagged wound that oozed dark ichor.
The serpent head screeched in pain, but its fury only grew. It lunged at Kirsch again, its fangs aimed for his chest. Kirsch summoned a cocoon of blossoms just in time, the petals spinning so fast they deflected the attack with a sharp crack. Still, the force sent him skidding back across the rippling ground.
"I must say, Captain," Kirsch said, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve, "this creature lacks the refinement to appreciate my artistry."
Dorothy didn't respond immediately. Her gaze was fixed on the chimera, her usually dreamy eyes now razor-sharp. The beast was relentless, and despite the disorienting nature of Glamour World, it was beginning to adjust. Its movements grew more coordinated, and the dreamscape's strange geometry seemed to slow it less and less.
Dorothy muttered under her breath, her magic flaring as she reshaped the terrain again. The floating platforms began to move, drifting unpredictably through the air, creating an ever-shifting battlefield that even the chimera couldn't fully comprehend. "Kirsch," she said, her voice carrying an edge of urgency. "We need to push it harder. It's learning too quickly."
Kirsch sighed, dramatically flipping his hair. "Very well, if you insist. But only because you asked so nicely." He raised his grimoire again, its pages glowing with brilliant light. "Cherry Blossom Magic: Crimson Requiem!"
A storm of petals erupted from the ground, rising in a dazzling spiral that engulfed the chimera. Each petal was a razor-sharp blade, cutting into the beast with relentless precision. The lion head roared in defiance, flames spilling from its maw, while the serpent thrashed wildly, trying to escape the onslaught.
Dorothy took the opportunity to intensify her magic. Her grimoire flaring brightly, translucent chains made of shimmering light sprouted from the dreamscape, binding the chimera's limbs and wings. For a moment, it seemed immobilized, its movements slowed by the surreal, unearthly restraints.
The hawk head screeched, its sharp eyes focusing on Dorothy. It lunged with a burst of incredible speed, breaking through one of the chains. Dorothy barely avoided the strike, stepping onto a floating platform that carried her upward. But the sudden attack made her stumble slightly, her balance wavering. The Glamour World flickered for an instant.
"Captain!" Kirsch shouted, uncharacteristic worry breaking through his usually smug tone.
Dorothy steadied herself, her expression unreadable as she adjusted her grimoire. "I'm fine," she said, though the strain in her voice was clear. "Focus on the chimera. I'll hold the dreamscape together."
Kirsch hesitated, but only for a moment. "Very well. Let it never be said that I abandoned my captain in her time of need!" He summoned another wave of blossoms, this time aiming for the hawk head. The petals struck true, forcing the chimera back a step.
The chimera roared, its fury undiminished, and pulled against the ethereal chains with terrifying strength. Dorothy's grip on her magic tightened, her hands trembling as she reinforced the bindings. The dreamscape itself seemed to pulse under the strain, the pastel skies darkening as the battle reached a critical point.
"Kirsch," Dorothy said, her voice low but commanding, "we need to finish this before it breaks free."
Kirsch nodded, his usual arrogance replaced with focused determination. "Then let's end this in the most dazzling fashion possible."
The chimera's roar reverberated through the surreal expanse of the Glamour World, shaking the floating platforms and cracking the distorted marble ground beneath Dorothy and Kirsch. Its three heads moved with a ruthless, predatory intelligence—the hawk's shriek slicing the air as it scanned for weaknesses, the lion's mane crackling with searing flames that threatened to engulf everything, and the serpent's fangs dripping venom that hissed and corroded the dreamlike landscape wherever it fell. The chimera wasn't just attacking—it was hunting with a singular focus, its relentless presence radiating primal malice.
The Vermillion's cherry blossoms swirled in a dazzling vortex, their soft pink hue a stark contrast to the nightmare they faced. The blossoms danced elegantly, forming protective barriers that shimmered in the dim light. Yet even their beauty couldn't fully contain the chimera's fury. The hawk head darted through the petals, its razor-sharp beak striking at Kirsch with blinding speed.
"Cherry Blossom Magic: Blossoming Guard!" Kirsch shouted, his grimoire glowing brightly as a swirling wall of petals solidified around him. The serpent head struck the barrier, its fangs sinking into the shimmering blossoms with a hiss. The force of the impact sent Kirsch skidding backward, his usual composed elegance faltering as he struggled to maintain his footing.
Dorothy's voice, typically soft and dreamlike, cut through the chaos like a blade. "Kirsch, stay back!" she ordered, her normally hazy eyes sharpening as she waved her hand. Gleaming chains of light materialized from the air, slithering toward the chimera to ensnare its limbs.
The beast twisted violently, its lion head roaring as flames erupted from its jaws. The chains snapped before they could fully form, their remnants dissipating into shimmering dust.
The lion's roar grew deafening, and a torrent of fire surged toward Kirsch with blistering intensity. His grimoire glowed brighter as he conjured a protective dome of cherry blossoms. The flames struck the barrier, and for a moment, it held. But the sheer force of the attack sent Kirsch tumbling to the ground, his pristine robes scorched at the edges, his breathing labored.
"This is… quite unbecoming," he muttered weakly, his voice laced with strained humor as he struggled to rise. Before he could regain his footing, the chimera lunged. Its serpent head lashed out, piercing through the blossoms and sinking its fangs deep into Kirsch's shoulder.
A raw, unguarded cry escaped Kirsch's lips, the sound startlingly human in its vulnerability. Blood blossomed against the white of his robes, spreading in vivid crimson as the venom began to seep into his veins.
Dorothy froze for a moment, the sight of her vice captain injured cutting through her dreamlike haze like a thunderclap. Her usually distant expression twisted into something fierce and unyielding, her hands clenching into trembling fists.
"Let him go," she said, her voice low and cold, carrying an edge that hadn't been there before.
The chimera didn't relent, its serpent head shaking Kirsch violently before tossing him aside like discarded prey. He hit the ground hard, rolling to a stop near Dorothy's feet.
Kirsch groaned, his usual flamboyant demeanor shattered as he tried to push himself up. "I—I'm fine," he rasped, but his body betrayed him, his strength faltering as venom and exhaustion took hold.
Dorothy knelt beside him, her hand hovering over his wound. Her usually distant, unfocused gaze was gone, replaced by something sharper—something resolute. She looked at him, truly looked at him, and the memory of their first meeting flooded her mind like an unbidden dream.
Kirsch had strutted into the Coral Peacocks' headquarters years ago with all the arrogance of a nobleman. His introduction had been a theatrical flourish, his every word laced with self-assured confidence. He had declared his intention to bring beauty and grace to the squad, much to the bewilderment of the more pragmatic recruits. Dorothy had found his bravado amusing at first, a fleeting curiosity. Yet beneath the surface, she had seen something else—potential. His magic, while flamboyant, was undeniably powerful, his confidence unshakable. When she made him her vice captain, it hadn't been a calculated decision; it had simply felt right.
Now, seeing him injured and vulnerable, the weight of that decision hit her with crushing clarity. She had chosen him—not just as her vice captain, but as someone she would lead, protect, and guide. And now he was hurt because she hadn't acted decisively.
"I've been too passive," she murmured, her voice barely audible, laced with regret. She wasn't sure if she was referring to today or life in general.
The chimera snarled, advancing on them with predatory intent, its three heads focused entirely on Dorothy. The dreamlike haze of the Glamour World rippled around her, the pastel hues deepening into darker, stormier shades as her emotions surged.
Dorothy rose to her feet, stepping in front of Kirsch and raising her grimoire. The ethereal pages glowed with a brilliance that lit the darkening landscape.
"You've hurt one of mine," she said, her tone icy and unwavering. Her voice carried a weight that seemed to make the chimera hesitate, if only for a moment. "That was your mistake."
The beast lunged, its lion head roaring with flames. Dorothy didn't flinch. With a wave of her hand, the Glamour World responded. The ground beneath the chimera rippled and twisted, rising into jagged spikes that pierced its limbs and pinned it in place. The chimera howled in fury, its immense strength straining against the restraints, but Dorothy didn't stop.
"Reverie Fortress," she intoned, her voice steady and commanding. Massive crystalline structures rose from the dreamscape, forming an intricate maze around the chimera. The beast thrashed violently, its hawk head slamming against the crystalline walls, but the fortress held firm.
Dorothy's heart pounded as she summoned glowing chains, each one thicker and brighter than the last. They wrapped around the chimera, binding it tighter with every passing second. This wasn't just about defeating the beast - it was about protecting her squad, her duty as their captain.
Behind her, Kirsch watched through half-lidded eyes, his usual bravado softened into a faint, genuine smile. "Well, Captain," he murmured weakly, his voice tinged with both pain and admiration, "it seems you do care after all."
Dorothy didn't respond, her focus entirely on the chimera. Her determination radiated like a palpable force, the air around her charged with raw magic. The battle was far from over, but for the first time in ages, Dorothy was fully awake - and she wasn't holding back.
She snapped her fingers, her bright heterochromic eyes gleaming with a resolute fury. "Quetzalcoatl," she whispered, and a large winged serpent appeared and attacked the chimera from a light pink portal, it's deep red scales shimmering in the light of Dorothy's dreams, and bit the chimera, the sound of splintering bones and anguished roars echoing through the dreamscape.
Once, twice, thrice the serpent bit, rotating in a burst of blinding speed to knock the chimera painfully through Glamour World. Without a word, Dorothy leapt onto the serpent's head, sitting in a cross-legged position, and the winged beast flew after the chimera.
For once, Dorothy Unsworth wasn't smiling while fighting in Glamour World.
She wasn't fighting for enjoyment or for the Clover Kingdom.
There were no negative thoughts rushing through her head.
There was only one thing on her mind, an invasive, overpowering weight on her mind.
The desire to protect.
As the chimera regained its bearings, Dorothy instantly summoned more spectral chains, and leapt off of the Quetzalcoatl, leaving it to hit the suspended Chimera like a bullet train, driving it deeper into the seemingly infinite expanse. Dorothy imagined the quetzalcoatl exploding in a burst of highly damaging glitter, and the winged serpent's body began to expand, eventually releasing all the pent up mana inside of it.
The Chimera was encased in the explosion, the glitter cutting deep into its skin, and when the brute emerged, blood was seeping from every annal in its body. Each head cried out in pain, and the different timbres of pain twisted and intertwined to create a grotesque sound that made Dorothy flinch slightly.
"Be silent," she said coldly, and the Chimera howled no longer, each one of its mouths being restrained by tendrils of Dorothy's magic. In its rage, it lashed out a paw at Dorothy, who calmly sidestepped, using a burst of mana to hit in again in the side where the winged serpent had bitten it. It once again attacked Dorothy, but she dodged each attack, using every manner of newly thought up attack inside her dreamscape to hit the chimera.
The chimera, battered and bloodied, lurched forward again, its three heads snapping furiously at Dorothy. Despite the fierce onslaught, it couldn't quite land a blow, its attacks slow and erratic as its strength faltered. Dorothy's mind was focused, calculating, as her magic continued to weave around her, an impenetrable cocoon of precision.
"Do you really think you can keep fighting forever?" she muttered to herself, her voice barely more than a whisper against the relentless storm of the chimera's fury. Her grimoire flickered in her hands, the pages glowing as she sifted through the possibilities. There had to be an end to this, a moment where she could drive the final blow. The chimera had to break.
Her eyes flickered toward Kirsch, still lying motionless but clearly trying to hold onto consciousness. His breath was shallow, the venom doing its work as he struggled against the weight of pain. For a brief moment, their eyes met, and Dorothy saw a flicker of that arrogance she had once found so amusing—the same defiant light that had initially drawn her to him.
"Not on my watch," she whispered.
The chimera surged forward once more, a final, desperate attempt to break free. Its lion head reared back, gathering fire to scorch Dorothy into nothingness. She didn't hesitate. Her voice rang out clear and sharp in the surreal world around them.
From the depths of her mind, from the deepest recesses of the dreamscape, an immense surge of power erupted. A thousand chains, sparkling with the raw power of endless dreams, shot forth from Dorothy's hands. They wrapped around the chimera in an instant, encasing it in layers upon layers of magic. The chains crackled with energy, twisting and tightening, pulling the chimera in every direction, until its limbs were locked in place and it could move no more. The beast let out a final roar of fury, but it was futile. The chains had woven into every inch of its being, their grip absolute.
And then, Dorothy moved.
She stepped forward with the same grace she always had, her feet barely touching the distorted marble ground. Her heart was calm, the thrum of adrenaline no longer the driving force, but something deeper—a burning resolve. Her eyes glowed brightly, and the dreamscape responded in kind, shifting as her will twisted it into shape. She raised her hand, calling forth a vortex of gleaming starlight.
In an instant, the chimera was lifted into the air, suspended by the very chains that bound it. The starlight began to condense, swirling into a dense sphere above the beast, glowing with an intensity that threatened to tear apart the very fabric of Glamour World. The chimera struggled, its bodies writhing in pain, but the more it fought, the more the chains constricted, dragging it deeper into the vortex.
Dorothy stood beneath it, her breath steady, her resolve unwavering. "This ends now."
With a final, sweeping motion of her hand, she thrust her palm upward. The sphere of light exploded, sending a torrent of ethereal energy cascading over the chimera. The force of the blast was immense, the magic so pure and overwhelming that it cut through the beast's resistance like a hot knife through butter. The chimera's three heads screamed one last time, the sound warping into a discordant wail as the magic tore through its body.
When the light dissipated, nothing remained but the broken, lifeless form of the chimera, sprawled across the cracked ground of the dreamscape. Its heads lay still, no longer snarling, no longer threatening. Only silence lingered, heavy and profound.
Dorothy lowered her hand, her breath coming in deep, steadying waves. Her body was still thrumming with energy, the aftermath of such a powerful strike leaving her exhausted but triumphant. She turned toward Kirsch, who was still trying to sit up, his strength now returning in sluggish waves.
"You're a pain, you know that?" she said, her voice softened with an unfamiliar warmth. She walked over to him, kneeling beside him with a quiet sigh.
"Always have been," Kirsch muttered weakly, his usual bravado still not quite intact, but the glint of his familiar arrogance was slowly returning to his eyes. "But, I suppose… I owe you one, Captain."
Dorothy chuckled softly, a rare, genuine sound that escaped her lips. She didn't respond, but instead she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
For a moment, the two of them sat in silence, surrounded by the dissipating remnants of the battle. The Glamour World, once a chaotic and shifting landscape, was now calm—still, save for the faint shimmering of distant stars in the dreamlike sky.
Dorothy let out a long, steady breath, feeling the weight of the fight leave her shoulders. She had protected her squad, as she was meant to. And for once, she knew that this time, she had done it not just out of duty—but because she truly cared.
"Let's go find Amaryllis," she whispered.
A/N: "bUt hOw cAn dOrOthy UsE mAnA bLAsts If hEr mAgIc Isnt InnAtELy AttAck spELLs?"