Every fallen wizard had gone through desperate struggles.
Nikita vaguely remembered the first time she tore open a wizard's throat.
Back then, she had wandered at the end of the Nile. The scorching sun baked the earth, and the sand beneath her feet seemed like a swamp, dragging her forcefully into the depths of darkness.
A young wizard had trailed behind her for over a month. Hunters always had endless patience with their prey. He had watched from afar as she stumbled and staggered through the desert.
She had not eaten anything for a week.
Demonic blood had thoroughly transformed her, body and mind. Wizard food—or rather, human food—would be vomited back up even more violently after entering her mouth. Only bloody flesh could be accepted by a demon's body.
Animal flesh and blood could barely fill her stomach, of course, but the more she ate, the stronger her hunger became. Every upright creature seemed like a walking piece of candy, giving off an enticingly sweet scent.
She resisted that desire.
So she fled into the depths of the wasteland.
There was no one here but ugly insects.
Except for the wizard trailing far behind her.
Lying flat amid the scorching dunes, Nikita stared blankly at the boundless blue sky. Desert insects were exceptionally tough. Beneath their resilient shells lay bodily fluids like sulfuric acid. Those fluids burned her tender lips and irritated her tongue. But what truly left her battered beyond recognition was the young wizard's loud abuse.
She knew that was a tactic hunters often used. Wizards corrupted by demons became mentally fragile, easily driven mad by provocation and made to act irrationally. When she had studied at First University, she had once been among the best at it.
The young wizard was not far away.
Nikita turned her head and looked at him with slightly reddened eyes.
What a handsome young man. Her heart wavered for a moment. If they were still at the academy, a young man like this receiving such attention from her would surely have blushed and become flustered. But now, he only watched her warily, opening his spellbook and preparing at any moment to throw a lightning spell at her head.
There was no going back anymore.
She looked up at the sky again and closed her eyes.
A brief scream from the young man reached her ears, followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground.
Nikita struggled into a sitting position.
Beside the dune, an old man wrapped in a voluminous black robe was staring at her with scarlet eyes.
"Dead." The old man's voice was dry and hoarse, like a cold wind sweeping through a dead forest. He raised the slender staff beneath his robe and pointed at the body sprawled before him.
Nikita hesitated, then crawled and rolled over to the young wizard's side, feeling his neck.
His pulse had indeed vanished.
The old man lovingly patted her head as though petting a puppy. He raised his iron-skewer-like cane and pierced the dead wizard's neck.
Blood flowed limply from that black hole, giving off an enticing fragrance.
Like the black bread she had received from that old magician as a child.
Nikita lowered her head and began to suck.
Then, sobbing, she tore open his throat and drank in great gulps.
From then on, she had a new teacher. He was an aide to the Lich King, and the old man had her call him Sir Ulrich.
Sir Ulrich led her out of the Sahara and back to the Lich King's territory.
As the days passed, Nikita seemed to grow accustomed to a lich's life. Yet in the eyes of the other demons, she had become Teacher Ulrich's disgrace.
Because she only ate wizard corpses.
"Take it slowly. Don't rush. Everyone starts out like this," Sir Ulrich always comforted her.
Until Zhou Zhou arrived in the Lich King's territory. Faced with ill-intentioned demonic companions, Nikita realized that she still could not face a wizard's death.
So she fled once more with the Little Witch.
Now, aboard the Mist, with nowhere left to run, Nikita suddenly felt a sense of relief.
Perhaps this had been Teacher Ulrich's intention all along.
A demon that had already fallen into darkness could only survive by sinking deeper.
The memory lasted only a brief moment.
Yet it was as unforgettable as eternity.
Nikita knelt at the captain's feet, expressionless, her red eyes crystalline in the darkness.
"Please let me stay on the ship."
The captain of the Mist sat silently behind the table. Before him lay the wooden plate that had previously held "memories." On the plate was the Little Witch's brain, like a ripe, vibrant peach, its snow-white flesh smeared with pink juice.
Raven Spike in the captain's hand swiftly picked at the brain's folds. Threads of ghostly blue mist slithered into his nostrils like Little snakes.
A long time passed.
The vivid peach gradually lost its luster, revealing its blue-gray essence.
"Although you offered a sacrifice and boarded my ship, that does not mean you may remain aboard." The captain's gentle voice sounded slowly. "So you need to give me a sufficient reason."
Nikita fell silent for several seconds.
"I want to live well!" she said through gritted teeth.
"Ho!" The captain's lips curled upward as he studied the witch before him with interest. An inexplicable gleam flickered in his dark-red eyes. "That is a good reason, but it is not enough."
"I can infiltrate First University's flight," Nikita said with unusual calm.
This was a secret shared only between her and that boy with emerald-green eyes. Once she revealed it, she would have no remaining ties to her past self.
There truly were no ties left.
The Nikita of the past had just died. The one standing here now was Nikita Zhou.
The captain toyed with Raven Spike in his hand and gazed absentmindedly out the window.
The afterglow of the setting sun spread a layer of enticing jam across the sea. The dusky blue sky resembled an enormous tablecloth draped over this gigantic cake.
Many interesting details had flowed out of the Little Witch's memories just now.
Deep within the distant Silent Forest, in that black-hole-like prison, an ancient tree had sprouted new buds. This was an immensely significant event. Yet First University had merely assigned one dean to stand watch in the Black Prison.
In the captain's memory, whenever that old tree bloomed, First University would arrange for at least an Archwizard at the Vice Principal level to guard it.
This meant something had happened at First University that greatly interested him.
The captain raised his head, looked gently at Nikita, and said, "Since you can enter that flight, then go aboard it."
Nikita slowly nodded.
"If there is nothing else, go upstairs and help out. Tell them we are making a trip north."
Nikita did not leave immediately.
The captain watched her quietly.
"I want her." Nikita stared at the withered peach on the wooden plate atop the table.
This was the final relic Zhou Zhou, the Little Witch, had left in this world.
"What a strange request." Shaking his head, the captain agreed.
Cradling the withered brain, Nikita lowered her head meekly and swiftly left that dark world.
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