NOVPUB
Chapter 45: The Witch Trials (I)
"It would be weird if you are in the alley alone so once you get out of this illusion, meet me in the Cafe opposite the alley," She said and then she faded away, as well as the illusion.
Zayn moved through the narrow alley, gripping the bag with his newly purchased gear.
His other hand rested lightly on the dagger that he had placed at his hip, a habit more than a necessity.
He didn’t have much of a choice but to go see her.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the smoky aroma of roasted meat as he stepped into the small café. It was a modest establishment — wooden tables, dim lanterns hanging from the ceiling, the quiet murmur of conversation filling the space.
It wasn’t particularly fancy, but it was crowded, and for good reason. 𝓷ℴ𝓿𝓹𝓾𝒷.𝓬𝓸𝓂
Because of her.
The Witch Princess.
She sat near the window, bathed in the golden glow of sunlight filtering through the glass.
Her black hair cascaded over one shoulder, her deep green skin standing out vividly against the deep red of her corset.
The moment he stepped in, he felt the atmosphere shift.
The men in the café weren’t even trying to be subtle.
Some whispered, others gawked, their eyes lingering far too long on her long legs, the soft curve of her waist, the way her top barely contained her figure.
Zayn sighed.
The men in this world were just like him — open perverts.
He ignored their stares, walking up to the table and pulling out the seat opposite her.
As he sat, the Witch Princess turned her gaze to him, and for the first time, she smiled.
Not the teasing, smug smirk from before.
A real smile.
And damn — it changed her entire face.
Without the arrogance, without the playful edge, she looked almost... soft.
"I didn’t mean to cast that on you," she said, brushing strands of hair away from her face. Her voice had lost its sultry tone, replaced by something almost... shy.
She let out a nervous laugh, tapping her fingers lightly against the wooden table. "But I had no choice."
Zayn raised an eyebrow.
Sweat rolled down her forehead, and she fidgeted, rubbing her hands together in a way that screamed nervous energy.
It was... unexpected.
This was the Witch Princess.
The same woman who trapped him in an illusion, who hovered over him with an air of superiority, who toyed with him like he was just some amusing distraction.
And yet, here she was, acting like some awkward teenager.
’Oh. Right.’
Zayn recalled the character details from the original novel.
Despite her appearance, despite the way she carried herself — she was only eighteen.
She wasn’t some mature seductress.
She was still young, still figuring things out, and now that he thought about it, still a bit naïve.
It was just jarring to see it in person.
"But I need your help," she said finally.
Zayn leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Go on."
She took a deep breath, her golden eyes searching his face for something. He didn’t know what — reassurance? Interest? Agreement?
Then she dropped it.
"The Witch Trial is coming up," she said. "And I need a capable warrior..."
Zayn froze.
’WAIT. WHAT?’
His mind screeched to a halt.
This... wasn’t in the novel.
There was no mention of a Witch Trial in the original story. No quest like this. No event that involved the Witch Princess needing help from a warrior.
His entire understanding of the plot cracked.
"Hold on," he said slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Witch Trial? What the hell is that?"
She blinked. Twice.
"You... don’t know?"
Zayn exhaled, masking his shock with annoyance. "If I knew, would I be asking?"
The Witch Princess hesitated, tilting her head. "I just assumed... with how sharp you are, you might’ve..."
"Just explain."
She bit her lip, clearly debating whether to keep pushing the matter, but eventually, she sighed.
"Alright," she said, tapping her nails against the table. "The Witch Trial is held every fifty years. All high-ranking witches must compete to prove their worth — it’s how we determine leadership, hierarchy, and status. It’s..."
She hesitated, as if struggling to find the right words.
"It’s brutal," she admitted finally.
Zayn frowned.
That was not a good sign.
"If you’re a witch," he said, "shouldn’t you be competing with magic users? Why do you need a warrior?"
She bit her lip again.
He realized then that she had a habit of doing that when she was nervous.
"Because..." she trailed off. "It’s not just about magic."
Zayn’s fingers drummed against the table.
"You’re hiding something."
She winced.
"Okay, maybe a little," she admitted, holding up her hands. "But I promise it’s nothing bad! Just... complicated."
Zayn exhaled through his nose.
This was exactly the kind of mess he didn’t want to be involved in.
He barely recovered from the last near-death situation.
Tobias had even banned him from missions until he rested, and now here he was, being dragged into something insane again.
’Why is it always me?’
He rubbed his temples, then looked up at her.
"Just tell me how it goes, I want full details before I get a hand in anything." he said, folding his arms.
The Witch Princess nodded, her expression growing more serious. "The witches themselves aren’t the ones taking the trials," she explained. "We choose warriors — humans, elves, ogres, anyone capable of fighting. Once we find them, we mark them, binding them to us."
Zayn raised an eyebrow. "Mark them? Like the mark you gave to me? What’s it for?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "It’s... like a contract. A magical link between a witch and their chosen warrior. In about two months’ time, all marked warriors will be summoned to the World of Witches for the trial."
Zayn frowned. "Wait — so the warriors don’t have a choice?"
The Witch Princess looked away, fingers curling against the wooden table. "Most of them are told beforehand. Some... aren’t."
Zayn exhaled through his nose. "That sounds like kidnapping."
"It’s not!" she quickly said, then hesitated. "Well... maybe a little. But it’s necessary."
"Necessary for who?"
She bit her lip, avoiding his gaze.
That told him enough.
"For the witches," Zayn muttered. "Of course."
A small part of him felt uneasy.
In the novel, the Witch Princess hadn’t done anything like this.
He had read the parts where the Hero of Light encountered her, but there had been no mention of this trial, no indication that warriors were forcibly summoned to fight.
Something was different.
Something big.
"And this whole thing about higher representatives choosing warriors..." he said slowly, narrowing his crimson eyes. "That was a lie, wasn’t it?"
The Witch Princess flinched.
Zayn sighed. "Thought so."
She swallowed, fingers twisting together in her lap.
"It’s only the princesses," she admitted, voice quieter. "The others don’t get a say. It’s just... me and my sisters. And my sisters will have strong people."
Her golden eyes flickered with something.
Something like... fear.
