Chapter 65
The broom that had been about to shoot forward like an arrow didn’t get far before it stopped. At some point, its bristled end had been bound by a black tentacle.
“For a simple lovers’ quarrel, isn’t this a bit intense…?”
“Well, when one of them’s a witch, things are bound to get messy.”
“But… what’s that black thing grabbing Fay’s broom?”
When a strangely shaped appendage suddenly emerged from Alnazir’s palm, murmurs rippled through the crowd. Up until then, most of the witches had assumed it was nothing more than a heated spat between a man and a woman.
A few, however, began to sense that something was off and started questioning the identity of the ‘foreign man’. Even if he truly had come from another continent, it was hard to accept that an ordinary human could sprout tentacles.
“Fay. Get off the broom.”
Alnazir tilted his head slightly, his gaze was sharp and unyielding. Ignoring him, Fay tried to force the broom forward.
Come on. Just a little more. I dried every strand carefully and enchanted you myself.
She bit her lower lip, coaxing the broom, but it was no use. The broom strained in its own way, but it simply didn’t have the strength to break free from the tentacle’s grip.
Fay clenched her lip harder and whipped around.
“It’s not the invoked who gives orders. It’s the witch!”
“That’s usually true. But I’m not a typical invoked. You must’ve figured that out by now.”
With such a vast difference in power, the word ‘order’ was absurd. Control in any relationship ultimately followed strength. Alnazir might grant her desperate pleas, but he had no intention of obeying a human’s command. And if she stood in the way of his purpose, even her pleas would go unanswered—even if she begged him outright.
“So that’s why you chose me. Because I’m much easier to handle than the other witches.”
His brow twitched at the accusation. She might feel a significant difference between herself and the other witches, but to Alnazir, it was negligible.
To someone who possessed a hundred—or a thousand—the difference between one and ten barely mattered. Even if she agonized over not being an eleven, envied others, or felt inferior, it meant nothing to him.
“I thought you liked me. But you just… looked down on me.”
It was tiresome, but she seemed genuinely angry, so he decided he needed to clear up the misunderstanding. First, he had to get her off that broom.
“I don’t want to be rough with you. Come down on your own.”
He softened his voice as much as he could and extended his free hand toward her.
“I’ve got nothing left to lose now. I’m not afraid of anything.”
After a brief hesitation, Fay pulled out her staff with a resolute expression.
The faint smile on Alnazir’s face vanished. He couldn’t understand why, when he was treating her so well, she insisted on making such a foolish choice.
A meaningless struggle.
“Fay, your magic can’t even scratch me.”
He sighed. If this dragged on, he might lose control for a split second and accidentally hurt her. That was something he didn’t want.
“I know I can’t hurt you.”
“Then stop being stubborn and come here. Let’s go somewhere safe.”
“But even like this, I can at least move you.”
Fay raised her staff high into the air.
“So you’re determined to drive me out of here?”
Alnazir warned her with a darkened expression to stop.
She didn’t. She swung her staff. The white ring she had used before to cross over would likely appear again. Alnazir anticipated it.
Go ahead and try.
He lowered his tentacles to the ground, anchoring himself to the wall like planting roots through the soles of his feet. Even if she succeeded in forming the ring of light, she wouldn’t be able to push him through it.
But her target wasn’t Alnazir himself—it was the stone wall where his tentacles were braced. Fay tore up the very ground beneath him, lifting him into the air along with it.
What is she planning?
Before he could even finish the thought, she swung her staff again. His body began to spin in a wide circle around Fay.
The rotation grew faster and faster, whirling him around several times until his stomach churned.
“Stop.”
He tightened his grip on the tentacle holding the broom, trying to force her to halt. The nausea made it difficult to control his strength.
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