Chapter 21: A Catastrophic Misstep and a Hidden Power

To roughly summarize the western arc in the original story:

The protagonist’s party battles a cult of an evil god aiming to make the west their stronghold, working to prevent the summoning of a demon.

Though they fail to stop the summoning and end up fighting the demon, the party grows stronger through the battle, ultimately succeeding in banishing it.

Defeated, the evil god’s cult flees the west, bringing peace to the region.

It sounds like a simple, three-line story.

But in reality, it was the most grueling arc for the protagonists in the entire novel.

It was also the arc where readers shouted “satisfying” and “just desserts” the loudest.

The difficulty itself wasn’t that high.

Compared to facing an ancient skeleton that’s lived for countless years, a lizard born with the title of “strongest,” or a race that’s trained endlessly for mating, it was definitely easier.

…So why was it the toughest?

Because the cult’s actions were disgustingly vile.

They’d casually attempt assassinations.

They brainwashed children in the name of their god, using them as fodder.

And for the grand finale, they tried to blow up the entire west.

The followers of the evil god were uglier than any villain, and their leader, the cult master, was an utterly deplorable figure.

So much so that even the mating-obsessed elves of the Great Forest seemed saintly by comparison.

Even the summoned demon was appalled, saying their pace was “too fast.”

I wasn’t avoiding this arc for no reason.

Getting involved meant dealing with bastards worse than the elves—who wouldn’t want to steer clear?

But the cult had already marked me as an enemy, and it was too late to escape.

Worse, according to Veldum, the buff elf, they’d said they’d “welcome me warmly in the west.”

“…My plans are completely fucked.”

I couldn’t help but curse and clutch my forehead.

I’d intended to build my strength in the west, but now I had to overhaul everything.

I needed to grow stronger before we got there.

Otherwise, I’d be dead meat.

“Strength, huh.”

I quietly watched the party fighting ahead.

A stalwart vanguard crushing incoming enemies to protect the rear.

A rear guard, trusting the vanguard, providing overwhelming firepower.

And an excellent priestess, buffing both lines to hold the front.

Watching this perfect party composition dismantle enemies with ease, I shook my head.

No, swinging a cleaver in the vanguard isn’t my thing.

Something’s gone wrong.

What kind of witch fights with raw strength?

That’s just a barbarian in a witch’s outfit, not a real witch.

If I were at least skilled in martial arts like a true barbarian, maybe, but I’m pathetic.

“…I really need magic.”

Muttering to myself, I noticed the battle was nearing its end.

The attacking beasts, realizing they were outmatched, whimpered and fled. The party, wiping blood from their weapons, collapsed onto the ground.

“Phew, that was rough… Why were those beasts so annoying?”

“They felt different from the usual ones. Dilated pupils, swollen muscles—they were on the drug too.”

“Regular bullets barely dented them. But before our dwarven armor-piercing rounds, even full plate is useless.”

“…Drug-tainted meat is inedible. Tampering with food like that is unforgivable.”

Spouting their nonsense, the party began resting to regroup.

Meanwhile, Carl stood up and approached me slowly.

“You’ve been brooding since earlier. Your face looks like you’re about to eat someone.”

Grinning playfully, he teased me.

I hardened my expression and growled.

“Try patting me again, and I’ll cut your hand off.”

“…Unless it’s obsession, kidnapping, confinement, or taming, just cutting it off feels kinda lame.”

“Then don’t pat me. Who asked you to?”

Even thinking about that night makes my head spin.

This damn female body.

How could I feel calm and drowsy from his touch?

What’s worse, I’m terrified that if he pats me again, I’ll feel it again.

Turning into a female every time I’m touched? What kind of bullshit unfairness is this?

Grinding my teeth and glaring at Carl, the source of all this, he smiled brightly and handed me water.

“Staring at me so intensely is getting me heated.”

“Shut it.”

“Cool your face. Drink this and calm down.”

“Trying to sneak an indirect kiss?”

“Tch.”

Clicking his tongue in disappointment, Carl quickly backed off. I cooled my heated emotions and let out a small laugh.

Thanks to him, my tangled thoughts cleared up a bit. And it gave me the courage to try magic.

“Sigh.”

Letting out a long breath, I closed my eyes and focused on the energy within me.

A faint energy I’d felt since possessing this body.

It was slow and lazy, like the divine power described in the story.

It even felt a bit sticky.

Like looking at my pre-possession self, maybe?

Anyway, as I slowly moved the energy, it followed my will despite its laziness, gathering in my palm.

It was fascinating.

It felt like becoming superhuman, and the sensation of something leaving my body was… exhilarating.

“Hey!”

“Huh?!”

A frantic shout snapped my eyes open, and I realized what I’d done.

A massive orb of mana, gathered in my palm, ready to fire.

Pitch-black, it radiated a menacing aura, devouring everything around it.

Crunch… crunch…

The ground eroded with a menacing sound.

If I held it any longer, I’d be screwed, so without knowing how, I fired it.

BOOOOM!!!!

With a tremendous explosion, I watched an entire forest vanish without a trace.

“Uh…”

How do I explain this to the party?

As I panicked, the priestess approached with a dazed look and spoke slowly.

“Just stay still and don’t use magic, please.”

That’s harsh.

Meanwhile, at the spot where the mana orb had struck.

Not a blade of grass remained. A dark shadow appeared, slowly taking form.

Shhh—

The shadow coalesced into a human shape.

Soon, it fully formed into the man in dark priestly robes.

“…That was close.”

Pale-faced, the priest checked his body.

Realizing his right arm was gone, he gave a bitter smile.

“Still, losing one arm to save my life is a small price, isn’t it?”

Gazing at the departing witch’s party, he muttered a question.

He pulled out a notebook with his remaining arm and began jotting down information.

“…I thought she was a nobody witch, but she’s far scarier than expected.”

It’d be a lie to say he hadn’t underestimated her.

In the battles over the past few days, she hadn’t shown a single impressive moment.

Her so-called specialty, magic, was nowhere to be seen—just flailing with a giant cleaver.

To the priest, it was pure comedy.

He hadn’t been unsuspicious.

Why would such a prideful being stand in the vanguard swinging a kitchen knife?

She must’ve noticed him and was trying to deceive him.

But days passed, and the witch kept acting clueless, even failing to notice his approach. So he changed his mind.

The witch wasn’t a threat at all.

So he’d ignored her.

And felt relieved.

Instead of facing six, he only had to deal with five.

The risk seemed lower, and he planned to report the good news to the cult master.

But now, it seemed he’d have to deliver bad news.

“…Did she know I was watching all along?”

The witch had completely fooled him.

Who would’ve thought she’d play dumb to set up a one-shot kill?

He wondered why she hadn’t killed him on their first encounter, but the question didn’t linger.

Probably to gather intel.

Sighing, he looked at his unregenerating right arm.

“Magic so vile even the god’s blessing can’t heal it… Maybe I should retire with just one arm lost?”

Muttering to himself, he pulled out a crystal orb and contacted someone.

Zzt—zzt—

After a brief static, the orb glowed brightly.

With a wide smile, the priest hurled crude curses at it.

“Master? I think we’re fucked.”

No, wait.

“We’re fucked*.”