Ch. 95 The Witch and the Black Knight (6)
by Afuhfuihgs
Witch – Chapter 95 – The Witch and the Black Knight (6)
The grand plan to teach the Black Knight about pure love through fairy tales hit a snag right from the start.
The story I had ambitiously prepared was a whimsical retelling of Aria Chronicle Part 2’s romance between Sion and Aria—a tale of growth and love.
Sion, a woodcutter from the southern regions, encounters a pack of orcs while gathering lumber in the mountains.
Since monsters never appeared in those woods, the ordinary Sion flees in panic—only to tumble into a deep pit…
“What kind of monsters? How many? What weapons did they wield? How long had they starved?”
The Black Knight, already immersed in the story, fired off oddly specific questions.
Shouldn’t he be waiting to hear what happens after the protagonist falls into the pit?
But of course—he was a monster himself. A boss monster, at that.
His crimson eyes, peering from beneath his helmet, reminded me so much of Josie’s eager gaze when I used to read her fairy tales that I couldn’t bring myself to brush him off.
“Uh, well… Five ordinary orcs, I think? Armed with battle axes? Maybe starved for… two days?”
How was I supposed to remember how long some prologue monsters had gone without food?
This was the best I could do—trying to recall the scene while embellishing just enough to keep him engaged.
“If they starved for two days, they’d be aggressive but predictable. To flee instead of fighting… I have no interest in tales of the weak.”
Like a petulant child refusing to listen further, he crossed his arms and turned his head away.
But I’d already learned how to handle his “respect the strong, despise the weak” mentality.
“Sion gets much stronger later. Weren’t you weak once too? And trust me—by the end, you won’t think he’s weak anymore. Because… he becomes stronger than you.”
There.
The moment I said “stronger than you,” his head whipped back around.
Unbelievable.
Was he simple? Stupid? A complete idiot?
“How much stronger? Strong one—does he surpass you?”
“By far? And his strength comes from pure love. But if you don’t wanna hear it, fine.”
After all, Sion was the one who would eventually seat Aria on the Throne of Divinity and fill in the first true name of God.
He started as a weakling who couldn’t even fight off monsters, but as the saying goes, “Though the beginning be but weak, the end shall be mighty”. And Sion’s journey was no exception.
Since his beginning and end were both tied to his love for Aria, I’d chosen this story first. But the fact that the listener was being so uncooperative was downright irritating.
“Strong one. Continue.”
“Then here’s a new rule: no interrupting until the story’s done.”
If he kept questioning every enemy encounter, we’d be here all night.
I channeled mana into my fingertip, activating the curse seal I’d placed on his armor earlier.
As the rule took hold, the Black Knight scowled but fell silent. I resumed the tale.
Aria was the Proxy of God.
One of thirteen vessels prepared by the Nameless God before losing His name—a doll meant to slumber eternally in ruins.
By chance or fate, the pit Sion fell into led to a hidden passage toward those very ruins.
After barely escaping the ruin golem Machina, Sion awakened Aria—and fell in love at first sight.
Her faded golden hair was enchanting, almost decadent. The white dress clinging to her figure was torn in places, making it impossible for Sion to look at her directly.
Beneath her collarbone, the number 12 was inscribed—the 1 glowing gold, the 2 pitch black.
While Sion stole bashful glances, Aria stared blankly, devoid of emotion.
But Aria was flawed.
Cursed by the Witch of the South, her memories were fragmented.
Why had she slept in the ruins? What was her name? She couldn’t answer any of Sion’s endless questions.
‘Name… don’t remember.’
‘Then… how about Aria? It suits you.’
Remembering the name whispered to him in dreams, Sion gave it to her.
‘This place is dangerous. Let’s leave together.’
‘Together?’
Hand in hand, they escaped—after Aria shattered Machina in a single blow.
Unlike Part 1’s simple tale of heroes clashing with the Demon King, Part 2 began with a scene that established its deeper narrative.
Even recounting it now, I couldn’t help but get excited—this was the iconic moment fans never stopped discussing.
While I was lost in nostalgia, the Black Knight sat in sullen silence, his armor occasionally flickering crimson under the curse’s effect.
“Can I ask something now?”
“Aria was strong enough to destroy Machina instantly. Why did she obey Sion, who was weak? Is that related to pure love?”
His question—longer than expected—caught me off guard.
I’d thought he’d ask about Machina’s strength, but this was surprisingly insightful.
“Ehehe. Excellent question. Yes, it’s all tied to pure love! Absolutely!”
Before filling in God’s name, Aria would recall her time with Sion.
How he named her. How his warm hand led her on their journey. How he never gave up on her, even when she nearly destroyed the world.
At first, she found him… unfamiliar.
And that unfamiliarity, she later realized, was love.
“Aria was curious about Sion. The way he blushed when he looked at her. The warmth of his hand—the first she’d ever held. She couldn’t let go because she wanted to understand.”
The Black Knight tilted his head, unsatisfied. His eyes demanded further explanation.
“Love takes many forms. Sometimes, it starts with curiosity. Is that too hard to grasp?”
“Curiosity…”
He seemed to mull over the word.
Pleased with his engagement, I decided to reward him.
“Good question! Here’s a Praise Seal. Collect five, and you get a special reward! Keep up the enthusiasm!”
I drew a magic circle depicting a thumbs-up—like a teacher stamping a star on a child’s work.
Back in my past life, those stamps had made me ridiculously happy. Surely the Black Knight, childlike as he was, would appreciate it too.
But he barely glanced at it.
“Last night, I felt something unfamiliar with the blanket you gave me. Was that… love?”
“No. That was just you being weird. Love—especially pure love—is something you feel for people, not objects. So absolutely not.”
“I see.”
Good grief.
I had to nip this in the bud before he developed some bizarre fetish for inanimate objects. Habits formed at three last till eighty, as they say.
As the self-proclaimed Witch of Love, I refused to let him taint the sanctity of romance with blanket-sniffing tendencies.
Pure love was not that!
“Then, strong one—have you ever felt that unfamiliarity toward someone?”
“Huh? Me?”
The question threw me off.
The only unfamiliar person who’d recently shocked me was…
“You’re the most unfamiliar.”
‘Teach me… pure love!’
Last night’s image flashed in my mind—him desperately clinging to my ankle, resisting dozens of curses.
Him, of all people, wanting to learn pure love—even betraying his fellow Heavenly Kings for it?
Sure, it made my job easier, but I’d never expected the battle-crazed Black Knight to be this… clueless.
Unfamiliar? Oh, absolutely.
My answer seemed to confuse him further. He stared blankly, then hesitantly probed:
“You feel unfamiliarity toward me… Do you love me?”
Me? Love… him?
What kind of nonsense—
My hands trembled with the urge to slap him.
“How did we get here?”
“You said unfamiliarity can lead to love.”
“That’s one possibility—not the only one!!”
“…This is difficult.”
Shouldn’t he have learned something by now?
I took deep breaths, reminding myself:
He’s a child. A child who knows nothing but strength.
Don’t get mad at a kid, Estelle.
In my mind, the Black Knight—once a fearsome boss who’d fought Kyle seven times—was now just a clueless brat.
Growl.
My stomach growled—no, his did.
It was past 10 AM. No wonder he was hungry.
“Hungry?”
“…Yes.”
I closed the book and stood, but he grabbed my skirt.
“Hunger can wait. The story comes first.”
“We have plenty of time. Let’s eat first, okay?”
As I pried his hand loose, another thought struck me.
“Do you… have a favorite food? Something you really enjoyed?”
“The rotten potato I took after my first victory was the most delicious.”
Of course.
Why did I even ask?
Still, if rotten potatoes were his benchmark, he’d probably eat anything I made.
At least he won’t be picky.
Tying my apron, I headed to the pantry.
Lucent
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