Chapter 3: Blood-Soaked Reflections
Arriving at the spring to wash off the wolf’s blood drenching my body, I realized why those kids had fled in terror.
“No wonder they ran.”
I gave a bitter smile at the ghastly reflection in the clear water.
My black hair, tinged slightly red from the blood.
The blood my hair couldn’t absorb dripped down my forehead, creating a grotesque look.
To make matters worse, the cleaver, still dripping with wolf blood, looked so brutal that even I felt a chill.
At best, I looked like a blood-crazed berserker; at worst, a fanatic of some evil god from the novel.
Encountering such a terrifying figure in a desolate place, one of the four forbidden zones, and not running? That’d be the strange part.
“Sigh…”
Thinking of the kids desperately fleeing made me sigh.
They’d definitely think I’m a truly evil and dangerous witch.
In a place crawling with monsters and beastmen, right in the middle of the Great Forest, their chances of surviving after escaping are slim.
But if the heavens help them make it back alive? And if they spread rumors about an “evil witch living in the Great Forest”?
“Just thinking about it gives me a headache.”
This world is already unfair to witches.
No matter what they do, they’re never seen kindly, and the slightest suspicious act gets them dragged to the inquisition.
Even a kind witch, renowned for good deeds, is viewed with suspicion, let alone a “blood-soaked evil witch.”
“I’ll be lucky if the inquisitors don’t storm the Great Forest tomorrow.”
Even if it’s one of the four forbidden zones, a place so terrifying that entering is considered suicide.
To the fanatical inquisitors, “fear” doesn’t exist, so if rumors of an “evil witch in the Great Forest” spread, they’ll come for me, unafraid of death.
…When that time comes, what should I do?
Washing the sticky blood off in the cold spring, I pondered briefly before shaking my head.
I’ll think about it later. Other things are more important now.
The chances of the theocracy’s inquisitors coming to the Great Forest are slim.
It’s not called a forbidden zone for nothing.
This might sound cruel, but sadly, the kids’ odds of making it home safely are near zero.
The rumors won’t spread, and the theocracy won’t learn of a witch in the Great Forest.
So, my priority now is to figure out “Beatrice” as quickly as possible and survive in this terrifying forbidden zone.
With that thought, I carefully gripped the cleaver I’d brought for self-defense.
As the wolf’s blood washed away in the spring, revealing the gleaming blade, my reflection showed a beautiful woman with black hair and eyes.
Admiring the stunning figure, I suddenly recalled the novel’s details and frowned.
“So, this sleek, seductive witch is supposed to be that pathetic loser?”
No way.
Though there was no illustration, she was easily subdued by the protagonist, so she must be a petite, slender type.
Even the fan art depicted her as such.
A pathetic loser witch, crying with both wrists caught in the protagonist’s large hands.
“…I can’t fathom what the author was thinking. No, who could understand that lunatic’s mind?”
They’re the kind of nutcase who’d throw a reader into a death trap for giving the feedback they wanted.
Only someone equally unhinged could understand them.
Grumbling, I slowly stepped out of the spring.
No more pinkish water dripped, so the blood must be fully washed off.
Feeling refreshed, I picked up the cleaver from the ground and started walking home.
“At least there’s meat on the table tonight.”
Looking forward to a pleasant dinner later.
*
Dinner prep went smoothly.
The house was fully stocked with kitchen tools and dishes, so no extra prep was needed, and I started a fire using the well-known, labor-intensive method.
It’s absurd that a possessed witch can’t use magic, but I’d learned I had superhuman strength, which was a relief amidst the anxiety.
…The “Beatrice” I read about was a pure “witch,” far from superhuman strength. Did the author change her settings while rewriting?
I had questions, but it didn’t matter.
Maybe the new settings are why I can sit here calmly, eating.
Sizzle, sizzle.
I quietly salivated at the wolf steak browning nicely on the pan.
Meat beats a veggie meal any day.
It’s a shame there’s no white rice, but this is a hundred times better than eating bland, unseasoned weeds.
Watching the meat turn a perfect golden brown, I added the washed vegetables to the pan.
Hiss—
The delicious sound rang in my ears.
The vegetables, wilting and releasing a sharp aroma, made my appetite surge uncontrollably.
Howl—!
But the sudden howling of wolves around me made my appetite plummet.
Twelve pairs of eyes glinted menacingly in the darkness.
I grabbed a torch in one hand and the cleaver, lodged in a stump, in the other, glaring at them.
At this point, I’m not sure if this novel is a comedic action-adventure or a survival story.
Did the author retitle it “Surviving the Great Forest” while rewriting?
I wanted to curse the author, but there was no time.
Twelve wolf beastmen, with fur like the wolf from earlier, had completely surrounded me.
All twelve glared at me with murderous intent.
…What did I do to deserve this?
Meeting their gazes with my own sense of injustice, the one who seemed like the leader stepped forward and spoke.
“Are you the one?”
“…?”
“Did you, witch, kill our Guardian Spirit?”
The voice was clearly furious.
I wanted to play dumb, but I couldn’t answer.
The twelve wolf beastmen’s murderous aura froze my body and tongue.
“…”
Getting no response, the leader scowled and exploded in anger.
“Why no answer, witch? Speak! Did you really kill our Guardian Spirit?”
“…”
“No answer? Then it must be true. The scent of our Guardian Spirit’s blood is thick here—you must be the killer.”
The leader growled, stepping closer, and declared vengeance in a rage-filled voice.
“I’ll avenge our Guardian Spirit, witch! I’ll tear you apart, chew you up, and send you to its side!”
Raising its claws, it charged first, but suddenly stopped, retreating in panic after noticing something around me.
“What?!”
It leaped back in an instant.
Puzzled, I stared at the leader, who pointed at something with a trembling hand.
“You vile witch…!”
“…?”
“Don’t play innocent! Killing our clan’s Guardian Spirit wasn’t enough—you desecrated its body!!!”
I slowly turned my head toward where the leader pointed.
There was the wolf’s head, split in half, looking grotesque, along with the fresh meat I hadn’t processed.
Realizing, I let out an “Ah” and approached the wolf’s corpse.
As I neared the “Guardian Spirit’s” body, the murderous aura lessened slightly.
Finally able to speak, I picked up the half wolf head and muttered softly.
“I really didn’t think this was your Guardian Spirit.”
“…”
The growling wolf beastmen fell silent all at once.
What? Isn’t it normal not to know?
It was probably mentioned in just one line in the novel—how could I remember that?
With so many monsters in the Southern Great Forest, how was I supposed to know this wolf was your Guardian Spirit?
Besides, it was self-defense.
It attacked first, and somehow got split in half by the cleaver and died.
Why is that my fault? Isn’t it your Guardian Spirit’s fault for trespassing on private property and getting killed?
Still holding the dripping wolf head, I placed it in the leader’s arms and whispered softly in her perky ears.
“Your Guardian Spirit? Oh… so this was it?”