Marvel's master of cosmic magic-Chapter 781

"It’s you... Saint Infant George."

The moment she recognized the pale child standing before her carriage, the Despair Witch’s expression hardened.

Saint Infant George.

A mysterious powerhouse who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

Unaffiliated with the Church of Night or the Church of Storm, yet treated with rare courtesy by both. Even their archbishops were openly friendly toward him.

Recent intelligence circulating among the royal family and cult networks painted an unsettling picture. This childlike figure had assisted the churches in killing the pirate admiral Zilingers and capturing the Aurora Society’s A.

Suspected strength: demigod tier.

Codename: Saint Infant George.

Rowan tilted his head and rubbed his chin with a small hand.

"So I’ve got a nickname now."

His gaze drifted over the witch’s flawless features.

"No wonder Roselle couldn’t stay away from witches, even knowing exactly what their pathway does."

The Despair Witch forced a gentle smile.

"We don’t need to fight," she said softly. "No one died. Plenty of people were even healed. How about you let me leave, and we pretend none of this happened?"

She bent forward deliberately, white robes parting just enough to reveal a tempting glimpse of pale skin.

Even if the body looked like an infant, she assumed the soul inside was anything but.

Seduction was never meant to be her real strategy.

It was only meant to create an opening.

The instant Rowan’s eyes flicked downward—

"Got you!"

Invisible threads burst outward from her body, weaving toward him like a spider’s web.

At the same time, she unleashed her plague at full intensity.

Not across a district.

Not across a street.

Everything focused on Rowan alone.

Concentrated like this, even a demigod would feel severe suppression.

That still wasn’t enough.

She raised both hands.

Black flames blossomed.

Hundreds of icy spears formed in midair.

They screamed toward Rowan in a dense barrage.

She had only one goal.

Kill him instantly.

Escape Backlund.

If she was delayed even a few seconds, the churches would arrive.

"Pathetic."

Rowan’s body trembled once.

The invisible threads shattered like brittle glass.

He inhaled.

All the black flames were swallowed into his mouth.

Then he exhaled.

A massive blue fire-dragon erupted outward, smashing through the ice spears and lunging straight for the Despair Witch.

Crack.

Her body shattered like a mirror.

A decoy.

Her true form reappeared several meters away, already sprinting in the opposite direction.

One exchange was enough.

She understood perfectly.

She was hopelessly outmatched.

Her strongest attacks hadn’t scratched him.

His casual counterattack had nearly erased her.

"You’re not getting away."

Rowan vanished in a flash of fire and reappeared directly in front of her.

Desperation flared in her eyes.

She pulled out a small mirror and dove into its surface.

The Witch pathway specialized in mirrors.

They could create substitutes.

They could hide within mirror worlds.

They could travel between reflections.

"Sorry," Rowan said calmly. "So do I."

He stepped into the mirror as well.

Inside the warped mirror realm, Rowan immediately locked onto her presence and cut off her escape again.

The Despair Witch screamed.

Black hair exploded outward, transforming into countless hissing serpents.

Her body expanded to over five meters tall, grotesque and inhuman.

Incomplete mythic form.

At demigod rank, one could partially manifest a godlike shape, vastly boosting power at the cost of stability.

She had no other choice.

"I’ll kill you!"

She charged.

Rowan raised one hand.

"Enough."

He brought his palm down.

The mirror world collapsed.

Reality snapped back.

His hand landed squarely on the Despair Witch’s head.

There was no dramatic explosion.

No grand spectacle.

Her massive body froze.

Cracks spread across her form.

"How... is this... possible..."

Her eyes lost focus.

She collapsed.

Rowan waved his hand, extracting her remaining supernatural essence, then pressed his will into her fading consciousness.

Memory after memory unraveled.

Her name was Pennatia.

Like all witches, she had once been male before transforming during early advancement.

She had spent over a century climbing to demigod rank.

Her mission in Backlund had two objectives.

First: finalize cooperation between the Witch Sect and the royal family, in exchange for an extremely rare high-tier characteristic.

Second: secretly nurture a vessel capable of hosting the descent of the Primordial Witch.

The Witch and Red Priest pathways were closely linked.

One embodied extreme yin.

The other embodied extreme yang.

The Primordial Witch, ruler of the Witch pathway, could grow stronger by absorbing power from the Red Priest pathway.

Many witches who wished to regain male bodies also relied on those same characteristics.

That was why the Witch Sect valued them so obsessively.

Rowan’s eyes narrowed.

"So that’s your real plan."