I, Guinevere, am going to crush you, you curry stick, today!

"Take care of yourself--"

The wind swirled in the room with the doors and windows tightly shut, and faintly, he seemed to hear the voices of the two young men. He sat on the edge of the bed, smiled, then smiled again, but his vision began to blur…

……

P.S.: I originally wanted to switch perspectives and advance the main plot within this chapter, but it seems I'll have to wait until the next chapter to start rapidly advancing the main plot...

Chapter Thirty-Three: The Twin Serpents

When dark clouds obscure the moon and the morning star disappears, in Irish legend, the brief moment before dawn is the closest the human world is to the "paradise" where the gods of Danu reside. Anyone can travel to this paradise with all things during this time through specific rituals and incantations—whether they can return safely depends on their own fate.

"Terena, do you think... this legend is true or false?"

Deep inside the cave, several torches were stuck in the wall. Even though there was no wind, the flames flickered and cast shadows that were either long or short, creating an eerie atmosphere.

In the flickering firelight, a voice rang out softly. The voice seemed to come from a woman's mouth, but it was almost inhuman. It was extremely cold and shrill, making one subconsciously think of the tingling sensation of scratching fish scales with fingernails, or even worse.

The witch sitting opposite her swayed slightly, and blood simultaneously gushed from her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth. In the blink of an eye, the smiling, plump witch had become a blood-soaked figure, horrifying and terrifying. Yet, she still wore a smile and made no move. Suddenly, the gushing blood began to float upwards, drop by drop, and flowed back to where it had originated.

Tears of blood streamed from her eyes, dripping back into her bloodshot sockets. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth like tiny snakes, slithering back into her mouth. Just a few breaths later, the voluptuous witch sat there perfectly still, not a trace of blood to be found on her body or face. She raised her arm, adorned with countless jeweled rings and bracelets, and rested her chin on her hand, smiling sweetly: "Gritor, I heard..."

The voice was as sweet as honey, and as soon as it opened, the woman who had asked the question suddenly changed her expression.

She was a tall, thin middle-aged woman. Beneath her pale skin, the outline of her bones was clearly visible. There were no blue veins, and not even a trace of muscle. She looked like a skeleton wrapped in human skin. Her eyes were sunken, with no whites, just pitch black. Her nose was also flat, with only two small holes the size of soybeans showing. It was hard to call her a woman, let alone whether she could even be considered human.

But her attire was remarkably similar to Terena's: a tall, pointed hat, a wide, black cloak, and a curved wooden staff beside her—a typical witch's outfit. The only difference was their build; the outfit made Terena appear incredibly gentle and approachable, somewhat like a kind woman in a fairy tale distributing candy to children. But on this thin witch, it only evoked a chilling, eerie feeling.

The two sat facing each other across a square stone table. Terenas sat on a wooden chair, while the thin witch known as Gretel sat on a stone chair with her hands on her knees in a proper posture. Her dark eyes, devoid of whites, seemed to be looking at the other woman, yet also seemed to be looking at nothing at all, as if she were lost in her own thoughts.

“I heard…” Terena repeated in her sweet voice before continuing, “After Solomon returned the ring to the heavens, the Danu gods, to avoid perishing along with the Age of Gods, used the Great Cauldron of Dagda to create a realm independent of the present world, and collectively migrated there…”

Greta's body gradually stiffened, and a sliver of white began to appear in her eyes, replacing the initial pure blackness. Terenas smiled at her: "...But to minimize their impact on the present world, they not only left the Cauldron in Ireland, but also several other legendary artifacts passed down through generations, not taking them to 'the other world.' The Sword Against the Light, the Stone of Destiny, Brionac..."

As she uttered the last few words, a clear distinction appeared between the whites of Gretchen's eyes and her pupils. However, her jet-black pupils were still several sizes larger than normal, almost taking up three-quarters of her eyeballs. Her body trembled slightly, but even the trembling itself seemed very stiff. From head to toe, her joints made soft "click-click-click" sounds from time to time, like rusty gears struggling to turn. The teeth-grinding sound lasted for a while before suddenly stopping.

At the same time, Terena also fell silent. Inside the cave, there was a deathly silence, broken only by the quiet burning of the flames. Outside, the wind howled fiercely, as if announcing the approaching storm.

"hiss--"

Suddenly, Grethor's mouth opened little by little, barely a crack, but it seemed to have used up all her strength, and her forehead was covered with large beads of sweat.

The next moment, a bright red tongue emerged from the slightly parted lips—thin and sharp, half a meter long, with its tip forked like a snake, emitting a strange hissing sound. The torches around suddenly began to shake violently, casting long, thin shadows on the table and the rock wall, just as long as snakes.

One of the shadows fell on Terena!

Suddenly, her cloak pulled inward, as if bound by something unseen, fixing her to the wooden chair. At the same time, obvious red marks appeared on her short, thick neck, which tightened and contracted. The smile on her face gradually disappeared, and a hint of struggle and distress appeared on her face.

Firelight and shadows intertwined, the wind howled faster, and the fat witch, sitting on the wooden chair, tried to break free from the invisible restraints. But no matter how hard she tried, the invisible restraints wrapped around her body only tightened, and the "rope" around her neck was taking away her breath second by second. Meanwhile, Gretel opposite her remained with her mouth open, her body becoming increasingly stiff, and the black and white in her eyes intertwined in a stalemate. Sometimes her entire eyeball would return to its original pitch black, and sometimes it would become a clear black and white state. But as time went on, the area and time occupied by the black were getting less and less, and shorter and shorter.

“I know…you’re very smart, so you must already know the truth about the Nine Witches…”

After a moment, Terena spoke with difficulty, but Gretel seemed not to have heard her at all. Her eyes were empty and unfocused, and the creaking sounds from her joints grew fainter and fainter: "But unfortunately... you're too smart. Otherwise... you wouldn't have waited until now to kill me..."

A hint of barely perceptible laughter seemed to be mixed in with her sweet, honey-like voice.

"Inevitably... intelligent people are always... more greedy than ordinary people. And this greed... also destined your fate... to be..."

Click!

Before she could finish speaking, Gretel suddenly gritted her teeth and bit off her half-meter-long forked red tongue, spurting a mouthful of blood towards Terena!

Blood splattered, and the fat witch seemed stunned for a moment. Before she could recover, the pressure on her neck suddenly increased dramatically. With a crisp crack, her cervical vertebrae snapped in two by the sudden force, and her head, now unsupported, slumped to the side. At the same moment Terenas's cervical vertebrae broke, Gretel, who had been stiff and unable to move, felt the pressure controlling her entire body suddenly release. The white in her eye sockets disappeared, returning to complete darkness.

She breathed a sigh of relief, reached into her mouth, and with a forceful tug, pulled out the remaining half of her tongue. She tossed it aside, and the two severed pieces bounced on the ground for a moment as if alive, then stopped moving. A few moments later, she opened her mouth, and between her two rows of sharp teeth, there was once again a perfectly intact tongue.

"Terena, what I hate most about you is your tendency to get carried away before the battle is even over. Remember, the one who survives to the end is the winner..."

With a push off the table, the emaciated body slowly rose and walked towards the lifeless corpse opposite. At the same time, Gretel raised her left hand, and a mark resembling a burning flame appeared on the back of her hand. It was at this moment, perhaps because of this mark, that the fat witch's corpse also changed—three different patterns appeared on her forehead, the back of her left hand, and her right wrist.

On the back of his left hand was a lightning bolt-shaped mark, on his right wrist were two swords, one long and one short, crossed, and on his forehead was a skull the size of a thumbnail, with two snakes coiled around the eye sockets and mouth, their tails intertwined, endless and without beginning or end, revealing an indescribable eerie aura.

"This is... that voice really didn't lie to me. Terena has seized the powers of the other two Fairy Queens, lightning and war... are they those two sisters who looked down on others? Heh... those two did have some skill. I wonder how Terena killed them. But this mark, what kind of power is it...? Never mind, why am I thinking about it here? I'll know after I absorb it... These three marks are all mine now, hehe, hehehe, hehahaha—"

An uncontrollable burst of laughter, equally jarring and unpleasant, seemed to cause the surrounding torches to shift and change shape, mirroring the mood of the place's inhabitant. Gretel reached out and placed her hand on the fat witch's, reciting a difficult and obscure incantation. The lightning bolt mark slowly faded and disappeared, replaced by an identical symbol that gradually appeared on the back of Gretel's left hand.

The newly appeared lightning did not take over the original flame mark; instead, it intertwined with it, blending together so harmoniously without any sense of incongruity, as if the two incomplete halves of the image had finally become complete, just as it was meant to be.

After staring at the newly formed mark for a long time, Gretel's smile deepened: "So that's how it is. It seems the other part mentioned by that voice is also correct, or at least part of it is true... The so-called Queen of the Lake is the usurper of divine power, and once all the scattered powers are gathered—"

While muttering to herself, she continued her actions, snatching the twin sword marks from her right wrist. Finally, she placed her hand on the skull and ouroboros mark on her forehead, its power unknown, and chanted an incantation, already plotting her next move—of the other two marks whose whereabouts were known, Vivian, wielding the Water Mark, was quite troublesome; she should avoid confronting her until she was fully prepared. As for the other mark, the Wind Mark, Guinevere of Scotland…

"Heh... I've decided on you. Poor little princess, I really hope to see your pained expression soon; it would be quite beautiful... What?!"

As the mark on the fat witch's forehead completely disappeared, a chilling, overwhelming power flowed into her body through her palm. Gretel was initially delighted, squinting her eyes to fully experience the immense power filling her entire body. But the next moment, that joy turned into terror: "No, impossible, this is—"

In the flickering firelight, her lower abdomen suddenly swelled rapidly like a balloon. She opened her mouth in panic, wanting to scream, but the surging magic within her body rendered Gretel unable to utter a sound. She watched helplessly as her belly grew larger and larger, and all she could do was futilely wave her arms and legs. Impossible, what, what is happening...? Countless memories flashed through her mind. At first, she thought they were Terena's memories, but she immediately realized something was wrong.

wrong……

These are...

How can it be……

How could such a thing possibly happen...

All sorts of thoughts, confusion, and astonishment came to an abrupt end at a certain moment.

She heard a tearing sound, paused, and slowly lowered her head, staring in disbelief at her abdomen. From her round, swollen belly, as if she were ten months pregnant, something suddenly ripped through the flesh and emerged—this was the last thing Grettor ever saw in her life—she saw a hand.

A white and plump hand, adorned with many beautiful bracelets and rings.

P.S.: There should be another update later, but... I can't guarantee it. I'm not sure I'll be able to finish it. If I were in Hong Kong, I could probably work on it until 2 or 3 AM and manage to write a chapter, but in Shenzhen, I have elderly relatives watching over me, and I'd get scolded for half the day if I stayed up too late. So, if I haven't finished by midnight, the promise of a double update will have to be postponed to tomorrow.

I'm still 50 to 500 votes short of yesterday's goal, so there won't be an extra chapter. This chapter is also around 3700 words, which is roughly equivalent to two chapters for other authors with around 2000 votes! In conclusion, please add it to your favorites, recommend it, and vote for me!

Chapter Thirty-Four: Crimson Eyes

Everyone says that dark clouds loom over the city, threatening to crush it, but here there is no city, only a dilapidated little wooden house, long covered in dust and cobwebs. It sits on the side of the road, at the edge of a sparse forest, its interior and exterior bearing the marks of time—a rickety door, two rickety chairs lying in a thick layer of dust, and a simple fire pit made of stones in the center of the house, with a large pot beside it, the bottom of which is also broken.

With a soft cough, Guinevere extended her scabbard and carefully pushed open the door. She covered her mouth and nose with one hand, and gently fanned herself with the other, creating an unnatural breeze that carried away dust and particles, gradually restoring fresh air to the room. But this was clearly not something that could be resolved quickly. Maintaining the effects of her holy seal, she turned her head somewhat boredly to look at her travel companions tying their horses to a tree not far away.

Several days had passed since the two left the small village of Uru. Along the way, Guinevere had formed a mysterious and wondrous connection with the owner of the sword mark on the stone. This connection allowed her to vaguely determine the other's location, eliminating any worry about getting lost. After persuading Artoria to let her lead the way, the two walked and stopped intermittently. When they arrived here, it was just past noon, no later than one or two in the afternoon. The sky, however, was already dark and gloomy, giving the impression that it might collapse and crash down at any moment. Thunder rumbled and rolled by, and flashes of lightning occasionally illuminated the world in white. A fierce wind howled, its mournful roar echoing, yet not a single drop of rain fell.

In this situation, it was naturally not advisable to continue traveling. Fortunately, there was a convenient place to take shelter from the rain nearby, and even though Guinevere was reluctant, she had no choice but to stay there for the time being. It seemed she might even have to spend the night there…

Thinking this to herself, Guinevere noticed that after Altria tied up her horse, she didn't immediately return. Instead, she hugged the old horse's neck, whispered a few words in its ear, and spoke to it. Out of politeness, Guinevere didn't eavesdrop on what Altria and the horse were saying. She just pursed her lips to herself, thinking, "That horse's name is Ete, isn't it?" She then thought, "It always bites my hair. If it weren't for the need to maintain my composure in front of Altria, I'd find a chance to bite it back... and let it know what it feels like to be covered in saliva..."

After a while, he thought again, "But then again, what part of a horse's hair should it be? Mane? It can't be the tail... the tail..." So he imagined himself biting that long horse tail tightly, the other party swinging it back and forth, and he was flying around in the air with it, like he was in a washing machine... He was speechless.

Unfortunately, from beginning to end, she didn't think there was anything wrong with her arguing with a horse.

Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, Artoria, the only one present and capable of pointing this out, was currently focused entirely on communicating with the horse, missing the opportunity to complain. Once the air inside had freshened slightly, Guinevere turned her gaze away from her companion's profile and took a few steps into the house. Frowning, she scanned the room again. Although she didn't consider herself pampered, this state of disarray was simply too much…

"If it weren't for the fact that it's about to rain, I really wouldn't want to spend the night in this godforsaken place..." I couldn't help but mutter a complaint under my breath. Then I couldn't help but wonder, "It's about to rain... or rather, there's thunder and lightning, why isn't it raining yet? It's so strange..."

The question lingered in my mind for a moment, but my hands didn't stop moving as I busied myself checking what else was relatively intact in the little house. I poked a hole in a spider's web, then apologized to the spider, who was nowhere to be found, "I'm so sorry I tore your web. You can reweave it after we leave tomorrow..." Then I felt a little conflicted, realizing I was behaving like a thug or a spoiled brat from a book. This wasn't right. One should be kind, after all. What's that saying again... "Sweeping might harm even an ant's life," and what's the next line...?

"Buzz buzz buzz—" Suddenly, a large, glossy black insect flew out from nowhere, startling Guinevere. With a whoosh, she swatted the insect against the wall, smearing it into a mess. "Sweeping might harm ants... A broken ship always encounters... a headwind. It sounds catchy, I think that's the line." She recited it, nodding her head, quite pleased with herself. These two lines were spoken in perfect Cantonese-accented Mandarin. Hearing this from outside the door, Artoria, who was about to enter, paused slightly.

"what?"

“Al, I suddenly feel like I’m being cruel,” she said with a pained expression and a serious tone. Artoria blinked, about to ask a question, when Guinevere pointed to the corpse on the opposite wall: “Look, I just chopped down another pointless thing…”

Upon seeing that it was a dead black insect, before she could even utter a question, she suddenly rolled her eyes. Artoria stepped inside, her gaze sweeping across the room, but unlike a certain princess, she didn't show any disgust. "I'll help—" she said, already reaching for a chair in the corner. Guinevere hurriedly tried to stop her, but before she could even utter a "no," the chair with the missing leg was already in Artoria's hands, and then it shattered into pieces on the floor.

"……Forehead."

The two were silent for a moment. Guinevere waved her hand, and a small whirlwind appeared out of nowhere, blowing all the wood chips out of the window. This should be a hunter's hut, but it was unclear how long it had been since anyone had been there. She went over and took Artoria's arm, pulling her to her side. The two began to check the only cabinet that was still intact.

She took out several wooden bowls and cups, wiped them with her fingers (they were covered in a thick layer of dust), and put them back with a look of disdain. "These things are obviously unusable. Luckily, we brought our own." Guinevere raised her chin, looking smug. Then she untied one of the pouches from her waist that held utensils, chanted a spell to make it return to its original size, and took out two bowls—one large and one small—two spoons, a fork, a sharp meat cleaver, and some wild vegetables.

The bag itself was just an ordinary prop, without any magical effects like stopping time or slowing down food spoilage, but these wild vegetables were picked just yesterday, so they could still be considered fresh to some extent. She then had Artoria pick up the broken-bottomed pot and place it in the corner, while she took out a large pot and placed it on the unlit pile of stones. Looking out the window, which had been opened earlier, she saw a small patch of sky covered in dark clouds: "I wonder when it will rain… Artoria, go to the woods and gather some firewood. There's a stream on the way here; I'll go get some water."

"it is good."

The two parted ways temporarily. Guinevere had originally planned to boil rainwater if it rained, but after waiting for a while, despite the continuous rumbling thunder, there was still no sign of rain. She had no choice but to obediently turn back, fetch water from the stream, and then carry the large pot full back. Using the wind to carry the weight made it less strenuous, but the back-and-forth journey still left her a little breathless. They rested twice along the way. When they returned to the hut, Artoria had already gathered enough firewood and immediately started a fire. She placed the pot on the fire, and once the water boiled, she chopped up the wild vegetables and dried meat and threw them in.

"...How does it taste?"

"good."

Throughout her life, she had always eaten very little. In addition, this broth had no salt or other seasonings added. Guinevere held the bowl with both hands and just blew on it. After a while, seeing how much Artoria was enjoying her food, she suddenly had a better appetite and sipped the rest of the broth.

"Any more?"

She shook her head: "It's fine if you get them all."

"Thank you."

Neither of them were the type to chat while eating, so their brief conversation ended with the gulping of soup and the occasional chewing sounds. The original chairs in the room were broken, so they sat on the floor, cushioned with cloth, so they weren't worried about getting their clothes dirty. Guinevere had taken a lot of her father's favorite dried fruit with her when she left Scotland, leaving most of it in the village of Uru. She had a few left, so she took out a piece and ate it slowly. After Artoria finished, she offered her two more, which Artoria declined a few times but eventually accepted and ate. After washing the pot and dishes, the sky darkened, and it was probably almost evening. The rain hadn't started yet, but the thunder was gradually less frequent.

The frequency of lightning had decreased from an average of seven or eight minutes to only one booming sound every half hour or so, a strange phenomenon that left everyone baffled. Naturally, the two couldn't possibly set off in this weather, where rain seemed imminent. After eating, Artoria practiced her swordplay outside, while Guinevere took out a chess set and played a few games by herself—she had loved chess in her past life, though her favorite was Chinese chess, though she had also been enthusiastic about international chess for a time. Unfortunately, Artoria didn't seem interested in such games, otherwise she could have had a chess partner. Sitting by the window, she took out a stone and a knife and began to carve earnestly.

This was not because she suddenly developed a love for stone carving.

Since finding the stone with the sword mark in the mountains, Guinevere has been inspired to actively communicate with the wind mark, infuse it with magic, and activate the various magical formulas within it. However, this method requires her to be completely focused and not distracted by other things, and she must also remain clear-headed. Therefore, the method she uses is quite limited.

But if the same technique could be applied to other things, wouldn't that free up our hands to do other things? The simplest example is that if we could create an item with an alert effect—more professionally, a Mystic Code—that would immediately trigger an alarm whenever a hostile entity enters the area. That way, we wouldn't need someone awake to keep watch every night. In other words, maybe the two of us could sleep together normally…

Driven by such little thoughts, Guinevere would devote all her free time to creating her first Mystic Code—although she wasn't sure if it could even be considered a Mystic Code, but... whatever!

“It should be like this…like this, then like this here first, then like this…” The knife slid smoothly across the stone surface, and she would occasionally glance up at the stone with the sword mark resting on her lap. After studying it for several days, she felt she had finally grasped some of the tricks. She carved for a while longer, but the poor lighting made her eyes start to ache. Since this essentially involved leaving magic on the stone in a certain way, the magic consumption was considerable, and her magic was extremely limited; she was already feeling slightly fatigued. She pinched her aching nose, looked up, and gazed out the window, hoping to see Artoria to ease her tense nerves…

This is what it means to look up.

Guinevere suddenly froze.

Against a backdrop of towering, dark clouds, Artoria stood at the edge of the forest, beside the old horse, repeatedly swinging her iron sword. For the past two hours, it was clear she hadn't rested at all. With each swing, sweat poured from her flowing golden hair. Although she wasn't using any magic, each strike still exuded a chilling, overwhelming aura.

But behind the man and his horse.

Within the dark forest, a pair of crimson eyes appeared against the inky blackness—the chilling killing intent in those eyes sent a shiver down her spine, even as she remained inside the house. But Artoria, who was closer, seemed oblivious, still focused intently on practicing her swordsmanship.

Between the two.

They were less than ten steps apart!

"Al—"

P.S.: This chapter is also nearly 4,000 words long, and it took me three hours to write, emmm, my eyes are tired. Although I feel it might be a little bit padded, I figured if I rewrote it, I'd have to skip today's update. So... here it is! Like I said, if there isn't an extra chapter before midnight, the owed chapter will most likely have to wait until tomorrow... Hmm, anyway, the story will come eventually, so don't worry~

Then there are the recommendation votes. On the night of the 1st, there were 454 votes, and on the 2nd, which was yesterday, there were 324 votes, so there was no extra chapter~ It's really sad...

P.S.: Finally, a celebratory first transaction! "The Blue Jewel of Ravenclaw," a rare Harry Potter fanfiction on Bookke, and even rarer than many Harry Potter yuri fanfics, boasts excellent writing and plot, and it's free! Don't miss it! Below is a brief synopsis:

Zoe, remember, despair is not the end of despair; after darkness comes dawn.

You will have supportive friends.

Competing rivals

Perhaps one day, you will be blessed with love.

Remember, I love you. And there will be many, many people who will love you too.

You will never be alone.

She will always remember the old man who smiled at her on that snowy night and his friendly hand that reached out to her; that was the beginning of everything.

(Single pairing, yuri, slow burn, a story of love and growth. A tribute to J.K. Rowling and her Harry Potter series, which gave me so many wonderful memories.)

Chapter Thirty-Five: Thunder (Part 1)

"Al—"

Lightning flashed, rumbled thunder, a sky covered in dark clouds, a pitch-black forest, and... a pair of blood-red eyes.

Meeting those crimson eyes that seemed to flow with blood, Guinevere felt a chill run down her spine, her hair standing on end. That utterly cold killing intent, concentrated in the deepest part of those eyes, pressed down on her relentlessly. For a moment, she even felt paralyzed, countless negative emotions surging within her: sword blades, raging tides, thunder, raging winds, natural disasters and man-made calamities—the fear of death and pain flashed before her eyes like an image: a bolt of lightning striking down from the sky, hitting the wooden house squarely, the scorching flames spreading almost tangible…

But ahead, the girl dressed as a boy was slowly swinging down her iron sword. The tip of the sword paused in mid-air for a moment. After this move, the next step should have been a smash with the hilt reversed. Then, she would take a step back and thrust the sword straight in. It was simple and unadorned, just like the old knight who taught her swordsmanship. His personality was rigid and inflexible, even seeming old-fashioned in this era. But some of his spirit had indeed been passed down through the teaching and practice of swordsmanship.

Normally, Guinevere would watch her companions practice swordsmanship countless times, captivated by the sight, finding nothing more beautiful and moving. But at this moment, despite Artoria's almost precognitive intuition for danger, she failed to notice the chilling killing intent emanating from just ten paces behind her. Her back was exposed, completely unguarded. Knowing her as she did, Guinevere was certain this wasn't a deliberate attempt to lure the enemy into an opening—how could she not have noticed!

But the current situation left her no time to think carefully. As she shouted, she raised her hand and a wind bullet shot out with a bang: "Dowry, lunge forward—" Artoria sheathed her longsword, lowered her head without hesitation, and lunged forward. At the same time, the air currents vibrated, and the wind-condensed bullet instantly covered a distance of more than ten meters, passing over Artoria's head and striking the bright red eyes in the forest!

Click!

Almost as soon as Guinevere spoke, those red eyes retreated and disappeared into the darkness. The hastily fired gusts of wind snapped several branches, sending leaves flying and startling flocks of birds. Artoria fell to the ground, rolled twice, and was about to get up when Guinevere, who had leaped out of the window, rushed over, helped her up, and brushed the dust and leaves off her clothes.

"what happens?"

“There was a pair of red eyes behind you just now. They might want to harm you… right there.” Pointing to the spot, Artoria nodded: “Oh, I didn’t notice… thank you.”