Hate Me, Witch!-Chapter 111: I Come From “Dawn”

Chapter 111: I Come From "Dawn"

“Experience a true death.”

Xia Ya stared at the glowing azure system screen in his mind, deep in thought.

He could understand most of the mission conditions listed for this Historical Echo.

After all, his system’s name was Heavenly Fate Villain System.

Stuff like being cursed for all eternity and earning massive hatred points—those were basically just extensions of the Beginner Quest.

But this new line of information about the fourth Soul Pact cast an even deeper layer of mystery over this Historical Echo.

Xia Ya hadn’t forgotten—it was only after entering this Historical Echo that this line appeared.

“Experience a true death…”

“If you get killed, you die. Obvious enough.”

“If the task is just to go get myself killed, then even an idiot wouldn’t go along with that.”

While thinking, Xia Ya quickly made his way out of the cathedral.

As a newly appointed Holy Templar Knight, he’d been assigned his own living quarters in the town surrounding the cathedral.

In theory, a Fourth-Ring Templar Knight—already considered a Master-tier—would be regarded as a powerhouse wherever they went.

Having one’s own mansion or even being granted noble status and a whole village as a fief wouldn’t be that strange.

However, because the lands of Aisgania were crawling with Abyssal Beasts, many once-prosperous towns had fallen to ruin. Countless refugees had left their homes to seek shelter in places protected by Grand Knights and other powerhouses.

As a result, the land surrounding the Dawn Cathedral had become extremely scarce. On top of that, the Church of Dawn emphasized purity and devotion, so clergy generally received fewer material benefits than other powerhouses of equal rank.

Xia Ya walked for a while, eventually locating his assigned room in a row of common houses.

The furnishings were simple: barebones wooden furniture, with even the lighting relying on kerosene lamps instead of the now-common Magitech Lamps of the modern age.

Just like everything around the cathedral—utterly humble.

Their clothing was plain cloth, and their food was mostly coarse rye bread and water.

Yet along the way, Xia Ya noticed that the civilians living there weren’t the least bit resentful. On the contrary, they looked relieved.

Relieved that in such a chaotic world, they could at least eat their fill under the Church of Dawn’s protection, without having to live in constant fear of being devoured by a monster horde.

This observation made Xia Ya reassess the negative stereotype he’d developed about the church from various stories in his past life.

“No matter what their motives are…”

“Whether it’s spreading faith, gathering belief, or cultivating a good reputation… the Church has undeniably created a pocket of order amidst Aisgania’s chaos, offering a sanctuary to displaced victims.”

“Judge deeds, not intent. Maybe not everyone, but there truly are many within the Church maintaining order and protecting the people.”

“No wonder she would choose to become the Saintess of Dawn.”

In Xia Ya’s mind, the image of a girl surfaced.

Dressed in a white dress, smiling sweetly.

Her beautiful eyes held a gentle light, yet were slightly blurred—hard to see clearly.

“Of course, this is the Church of Dawn right after the founding of the Sacred Calendar…”

“The Church now is lawful and good… but a thousand years later? Who’s to say it won’t become corrupt.”

A millennium changes many things.

Even good intentions can sour after ages of power and privilege. That kind of transformation had played out countless times before.

Someone like Sylvia—who could hold true to herself for five centuries—was the rare exception, not the rule.

Xia Ya closed the door behind him, sat down at the wooden table, and lit the kerosene lamp.

Then he pulled out pen and paper from his Spatial Pocket, jotting down notes while organizing his thoughts.

This had always been Xia Ya’s habit.

If not for that, he wouldn’t have taught Sylvia how to keep a diary to relieve stress back during the Historical Echo of the Cangting Ancient Kingdom.

"Serious people don’t keep diaries," he joked to himself.

Of course, what he was writing now was in Chinese. That way, even if someone used divination or some Transcendent power to peek at his notes, all they’d see was a jumble of nonsense.

1. Negative Reputation Value

2. Favorability and Hatred Points from Key Figures in This Historical Echo

These two were Xia Ya’s main goals this time.

After all, the whole point of entering this Historical Echo was to earn quest rewards and boost his strength.

Grinding points? No shame in that.

Of course, achieving these two goals wouldn’t be easy.

Whether your name went down in glory or infamy—neither outcome was something ordinary people could achieve.

To be remembered as a villain for the ages, your evil deeds had to be shocking enough and operate on a high enough level. Only then would they be sung and scorned across generations.

Put bluntly, if you want to play the villain, you still need the strength to back it up…

If all you’re doing is harassing women and robbing peasants like a common bandit, why would history bother cursing you? That doesn’t earn you legendary villain points.

Based on his self-assessment, Xia Ya was currently at high-stage Fourth-Ring. Even if he couldn’t use his fourth Soul Pact, his actual combat strength was close to peak Fifth-Ring.

With the right prep work, maybe even a surprise buff like overconfidence or underestimation on his opponent’s part—and with the help of some pay-to-win one-time-use items—he might even be able to go toe-to-toe with a Titled-tier…

Like that Silver Fox Lir, who died with his eyes open.

But from the intel Xia Ya had gathered, in the current Aisgania, even Titled-tier strength wasn’t all that rare.

And then there were those Favorability and Hatred metrics with key figures.

Xia Ya twirled his pen, then drew three circles on the paper, labeling them in Chinese.

“King of the Lowlands—Futigon, Abyssal Beasts”

“City of a Thousand Years, the Blood Clan”

“Church of Dawn”

His pen paused briefly, then he added an even larger circle:

“Knight King”

These four were the true players on this chaotic chessboard that was this Historical Echo.

The first three were currently the major powers of Aisgania. According to that white-robed bishop named Soren whom Xia Ya had spoken with earlier, each of them had a Legendary-tier figure among their ranks.

But unlike the relatively ordinary Legendary Cardinal in the Church of Dawn, both King Futigon and the Blood Clan Prince ruling the City of a Thousand Years were no ordinary Legends.

That made the Church of Dawn the weakest of the three, only able to cling to a corner of the map.

If not for the deterrence of the Holy Court in Fioren, the Church might’ve already been wiped out or expelled from Aisgania entirely.

As for the final player—the Knight King—he hadn’t appeared yet, but in the true historical timeline, he would become the ultimate victor.

Before long, he would rise like a comet, quickly earning the support of all the scattered lords, knights, and nobles across Aisgania, eventually unifying the realm.

Then, in the Holy City of Camelot, he would go on to found the mighty Fresta Empire.

As for his strength—no need to even ask.

As the future wielder of the Holy Sword from the Lake, the Knight King had long surpassed the Throne Tier—somewhere above the Eighth-Ring.

No matter who it was—none of them were people Xia Ya could afford to provoke right now.

Legendary-tier and Titled-tier might seem like they’re only one rank apart, but the gap between them is vast. It’s not something you can simply bridge with some clever counters or catching the opponent off guard.

Xia Ya paused for a moment, then drew another circle on the paper.

“Cain”

That’s right.

Just like how, no matter how powerful Sylvia was as an individual, what people remembered most was her title as the Tower Master of the White Chalk Tower—even though Sylvia herself considered the tower little more than a glorified tomb.

In history, it was always the tyrants and traitors who became infamous, not the nameless, overpowered fugitives on bounty lists.

So if there was no way to close the power gap in a short time…

Then to gain Legend Points, the only path left was to build a faction.

And in that regard, Xia Ya had one major advantage—he was from the future and knew how this Historical Echo would unfold at several key moments.

Even if his combat strength lagged behind, his knowledge of future events would allow him to step in at pivotal points and make a name for both Cain and the organization he would create.

“If I’m going to grind for points, then I need to go all out.”

“The evil organization founded by the one who shoulders all the sins of this world—its style and aura have to be top-tier.”

“Hmm… and to boost favorability with certain key figures early on, Cain and the organization will have to show up as righteous and heroic at first. Only later can the twist happen, to maximize impact.”

Xia Ya thought for a moment, then a plan began to form in his mind.

He triggered his Spatial Pocket, and in the next second—

A red and a black piece of cloth emerged from within.

Ever since that grilled fish incident where he forgot to bring seasoning, Xia Ya had wised up and upgraded Shiny (his Spatial Pocket) to perfect tier. Now it was stuffed full of every kind of random item.

Useful or not—it had to be there.

“Mimimi~ (What’s going on~?)”

With a flash of red light, the Little Silver Spirit was summoned with a confused look on its face.

It had just been training its sword techniques inside the Soul Pact Space—now summoned out, it looked utterly lost.

But then, it saw the two pieces of cloth before it.

And received a mental image—sent from Xia Ya via the Soul Pact—of a clothing design concept.

“Mimimi?”

Crimson blinked with big confused eyes.

“What can I say.”

“If we’re going to be the future evil organization that bears all the sins and infamy of this world, we need a uniform.”

Xia Ya patted the Little Silver Spirit on the shoulder and spoke solemnly.

“Right now, it’s not easy to find a proper tailor in the chaos of Aisgania.”

“Crimson, you’re a mature Summoned Beast now. It’s time you learned to make your own clothes.”

“You’ve already reached Transcendent Mastery in slashing techniques—being a tailor on the side shouldn’t be an issue, right? I mean, scissors and swords are basically the same. All about slicing, cutting, chopping.”

“Mi… mimi (Is… is that really how it works?)”

Crimson blinked again. Something felt off, but it couldn’t quite put its paw on it.

So training with swords led to such a broad career path now? Why didn’t it know that before…

It could be a chef. A tailor too?

But thinking about it, that kind of made sense. One was for slicing people, one for chopping food, and now one for cutting fabric.

Its Star-Spirit body glowed faintly. In the end, it obediently got to work on those two pieces of cloth.

After all, this was its own Beastmaster. He couldn’t possibly be trying to scam his own beast partner… right?

...

On the other side, the Little Silver Spirit was now fully immersed in crafting, scissors in hand, working feverishly with the cloth.

As a hardworking perfectionist, Crimson shared Xia Ya’s mentality: if you’re going to do something, do it perfectly.

To be a qualified tailor, it even called its close buddy Silver for help. The little Snow Ferret used Tsukuyomi to simulate the tailoring process over and over again, just to avoid any mistakes.

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Meanwhile, Xia Ya turned his attention back to one last issue.

“Experience a true death.”

With the general plan for this Historical Echo now in place, only this cryptic requirement remained unresolved.

“If death is a condition for unlocking the fourth Soul Pact…”

“That must mean—right now, even if I wanted to die, it might not be that easy?”

Xia Ya thought for a moment, then suddenly called out to his two crafting ‘sisters’ mid-sewing session:

“Crimson, slash me once.”

“Mimimi??”

“Yingyingying??”

Not only Crimson, even Silver looked at Xia Ya with wide ruby-red eyes, utterly stunned.

Did their master finally crack under the pressure of that terrifying love triangle? Had he gone mad?

“I’m not joking. I’m serious. Go on, slash me. But take it easy.”

“Mi… mimi…”

There was no resisting a direct command through the Soul Pact.

Reluctantly, Crimson channeled a weak sword aura and slashed out cautiously.

Pssht.

The sword light cut into Xia Ya’s arm, leaving a shallow wound. Blood flowed steadily.

Even though Xia Ya’s physique had improved considerably thanks to Soul Pact feedback—his self-healing was above average—an injury like this would normally still take a day or two to fully recover without using a healing potion.

However, in the next moment—

Xia Ya clearly saw the wound on his arm stop bleeding the moment it appeared.

Then it healed. Scabbed. Fell off.

Within just three or four seconds, the wound had completely disappeared. Even the scar was already fading.

Xia Ya’s pupils narrowed as he observed his own body.

“Crimson, quick.”

“Hit me again. This time—cut off my entire arm.”

“Mimimi?! (This man has really lost it?!)”

...

Half an hour later, in the room.

Xia Ya, Crimson, and Silver sat in a weird triangle formation. Big eyes staring at small eyes.

All three were silent.

They’d tried a lot of things in the last thirty minutes.

The most extreme attempt? Xia Ya had Crimson cut him clean in half.

Split into “Xia | Ya”.

That was the absolute limit of what the healing potions in his Spatial Pocket could handle.

But even in that kind of “critical condition”...

His body, which had clearly been sliced in two, fully regenerated and reassembled within seconds.

In less than ten seconds, Xia Ya was once again good as new.

That level of recovery speed—even faster than the racial ability unique to Elemental-type lifeforms: Accelerated Regeneration.

But that ability relied on the natural traits of elemental bodies and consumed vast amounts of mana each time. Once their mana ran out, they couldn’t regenerate.

Xia Ya, however, was very much flesh and blood.

And his regeneration, aside from the fact that he still felt pain exactly as usual, seemed completely costless.

No loss in vitality, no drain on mental energy, no depletion of mana—he could even control the regeneration speed at will…

It was absurd.

Practically the textbook definition of true immortality.

This borderline broken self-healing ability reminded Xia Ya of the immortal vampires—the Blood Clan—from all those fantasy novels in his past life.

Strangely enough, even though this world he’d transmigrated to was straight-up high fantasy—complete with succubi, dragons, elves, and dwarves—he’d never once heard any mention of vampires in the actual timeline.

And yet here in this Historical Echo, he had come across news of the Blood Clan and that mysterious place called the City of a Thousand Years.

“So… over the last thousand years, the Blood Clan must’ve declined into obscurity.”

“But does this mean my strange regeneration is because I’m not actually human? Some secret last heir of the Blood Clan? Or a half-blood prince-type twist?”

Xia Ya had certainly considered such theories over the past thirty minutes.

But after a series of thorough tests, he ruled that out.

He wasn’t a vampire—or at least, not the traditional kind he understood.

Garlic? Useless. He ate an entire bulb and thought it was delicious.

Sunlight? Useless. He’d been out walking in broad daylight earlier and got plenty of sun.

Silver? Totally ineffective—he’d been cuddling Crimson for ages, and even made the Little Silver Spirit’s Star-Spirit body steam with affection. No discomfort at all.

And as for crosses or holy water… well, he’d already been knighted as a Holy Templar earlier and had been through all those ceremonial blessings. Not a single issue.

After thinking it over, Xia Ya could only bury his confusion for now.

What was certain was that with this kind of regeneration, “experiencing a true death” had suddenly become a very high-level challenge.

By his estimation, even if he were tossed into a meat grinder, he’d likely still regenerate from a puddle of mush.

“I wonder if this healing ability only works inside this Historical Echo, or if it’ll carry over into the real world too…”

“Still, if that’s the case…”

Xia Ya’s eyes drifted toward the wooden table, where his carefully planned notes lay scattered—and beside them, the newly completed robe, crafted with the combined effort of Crimson and Silver.

“…then there are a few things I can afford to go a little bolder with.”

On the endless grasslands,

the sun was setting,

its blood-red glow painting the sky.

Clang—

A longsword rang out.

Isadella stood before a square-cut, solid stone pedestal.

Upon the pedestal was a beautifully ornate longsword—

The Sword in the Stone.

A symbol of kingship.

“Whoever draws the sword from the stone…”

“Shall become the new ruler of this land.”

No one knew where the legend came from.

But because of it, knights from across the land, driven by dreams of kingship and the hope of restoring Aisgania, had come in droves.

Yet one by one, all had left disappointed.

Now, Isadella gripped the hilt of the sword.

No one believed that such a young knight would be worthy of the sword’s recognition. The crowds had already dispersed.

But unlike the hesitant knights before her, unsure of what fate awaited them—Isadella was unusually calm.

“How does it feel,” a vague, blurred voice asked behind her, “to stand at the edge between salvation and damnation?”

“Your future is determined in the moment you draw that sword—

either a life of mediocrity as a nameless knight,

or the path of a ruler destined to end this age of chaos.”

Isadella smiled softly.

“A symbol of kingship, is it?”

“But does a true king really need a lifeless object to choose their path?”

“It would be nice to be acknowledged by the Sword in the Stone…”

“But even without it, I would still walk the road toward the throne.”

Above, the vast sky surged with drifting clouds.

And then—

Clang—

The sword was drawn.

The sunset shimmered across the blade, casting prismatic light like glass.

Boom—

At that moment, a thunderous roar erupted in the distance.

Followed by the cries of refugees… and the creeping stench of decay.

Isadella looked around and quickly grasped the situation.

An Abyssal Beast Tide.

The monsters that plagued Aisgania had gathered into massive groups and now wandered into the area.

Originally, this place had been packed with well-known Grand Knights due to the Sword in the Stone and the prophecy of the next king.

To be called a Grand Knight, one had to be at least a Fourth-Ring Master-Tier Beastmaster—and some were even Fifth- or Sixth-Ring Titled-tier powerhouses.

Yet now, not one of them dared to face the incoming tide.

What approached was a true sea of monsters.

Although most of the highest-tier Abyssal Beasts resided in King Futigon’s royal city, even this horde contained many Fourth- and Fifth-Ring beasts.

And even a Titled-tier, once surrounded, without support—

would only end up drained of stamina and ultimately swallowed whole.

Worse, wounds inflicted by Abyssal creatures required holy water from the Church to cleanse. Otherwise, they’d be cursed by the Abyss.

So most Grand Knights chose to flee.

After all, they only needed to run faster than the refugees.

A silver-haired girl in male attire gripped the hilt of her blade.

As a princess raised from childhood under the Empire’s strictest royal education, Isadella knew one truth very well—

In times of chaos like this, if she wanted to walk the path of kingship, she had to raise her own banner and become the rallying point for the people’s hearts.

And right now—

With the monster tide approaching, this was the perfect opportunity for her to establish her name and reputation as the future Knight King.

Isadella sensed that, in this special timeline, her original near-Throne-tier spiritual power had been largely sealed away by the immense and mysterious power of the Holy Sword. She could now only unleash strength equivalent to high-stage Fifth-Ring—matching her current physical body.

But—

Her experience was still intact.

And that alone was enough.

Countless battles across the borders, in the Lost Kingdoms, and even in confrontations against the Abyss in the real world had taught her this much:

Monster tides like these always had a leader, a core.

Eliminate that core, and the rest of the tide would collapse on its own.

Just as Isadella was preparing to make her move—

She abruptly sensed that the mysterious figure who had spoken behind her earlier… was gone.

The next instant, her sharp spiritual sense picked up that he was now far away—

standing atop the city wall.

Unlike the refugees and knights desperately fleeing the tide,

that thin figure simply…

jumped.

Leapt silently from the city wall—

like a leaf floating down into the center of the Abyssal horde.

ROAR—!

The hideous Abyssal Beasts froze for a second.

Then, with a bloodthirsty frenzy, lunged to tear apart this human who had delivered himself into their midst.

But in the very next moment—

BOOM—!

The air twisted.

Blazing white light shot into the sky.

A violent surge of mana swept outward, followed by a thunderous explosion.

The massive shockwave tore apart the clouds above, even shattered large portions of the already-ruined city walls.

Dust billowed.

The ground was obscured by sand and wind.

Vision was lost in the chaos.

In a single instant—

half the monsters at the center of the horde, including the lead Abyssal creature,

were completely annihilated by the explosion and searing heat.

The ones on the outskirts survived—barely—

but even they now stared toward the blast zone with unmistakable fear in their eyes.

Abyssal Beasts were indeed vicious and bloodthirsty—

but they weren’t mindless.

They feared death.

And with their leader gone—

the tide that had been marching in perfect formation

scattered instantly, fleeing in all directions.

The siege was over.

A blast-type ability?

Isadella’s pupils shrank slightly.

As a princess of the future Empire, she knew this kind of power well.

The trump card of the Noble Alliance—the Gustav Cannon—operated on the same destructive principle.

She just hadn’t expected that, even a thousand years ago,

someone would possess such power.

From her initial impression, that mysterious man hadn’t seemed that strong.

But now, he had unleashed something close to a single-shot Gustav blast.

Still…

That kind of large-scale explosion—

even with teleportation abilities, it was hard to believe he could escape the blast unscathed.

Was he… really willing to sacrifice himself to stop the tide and buy time for the people to escape?

In this era…

To think someone like that actually existed.

Not only did he wield a power far ahead of its time,

but he also lacked the arrogance common to most powerhouses.

He had acted with compassion—for the people, for justice.

Isadella felt a deep sense of regret rising in her heart.

In both reality and Historical Echoes,

what she lacked most was talent.

Such a man would have been invaluable to her cause.

But it was too late.

He had perished.

That thought had barely formed when—

From the scorched, white-ash battlefield left by the blast,

a figure slowly walked out from the center of the crater.

Clad in a pitch-black trench coat.

The smoke and dust gradually dispersed.

Only now could Isadella clearly see his appearance.

A tall figure cloaked in a long black robe—

its surface embroidered with red clouds.

Black hair.

A swirling white mask.

At the highest point of the mask, a scar-like slash was etched into it.

“Who are you?”

Isadella stared at the figure emerging from the smoke.

“My name… is Cain.”

That same vague, distorted voice rang out again.

And perhaps noticing her eyes linger on his black cloak with red clouds,

he added—

“From…”

“Akatsuki.”