The Reborn Witch had a nice 'Tea Time' with the Dragon Queen today-Chapter 5: With Peace comes a New…Witch? ()

The dragon groaned, in frustration, in respect, and perhaps in regret, as she hovered over the lifeless body of the mage. The battle had been swift and fierce, but the outcome was never truly in question. Adrei had come to claim vengeance for her kind, and yet, she had always a strange kinship with this mortal who had once stood against tyranny. His sacrifice, his unyielding spirit, reminded her of the dragons of old, the ones that had fought alongside the humans, not against them.

"It has been an honour, Demond." Adrei's voice was a soft rumble that seemed to carry the sorrow of a thousand winters. She hovered low, her fiery breath a gentle caress against the cold earth that had claimed the old mage's body.

"And yet, allow me to apologise, for I must dishonour you your resolve." Adrei's words were a gentle whisper amidst the fading echo of their battle. With a flick of her tail, she sent a gentle breeze, extinguishing the cigarette and lifting the ashes into the air, where they mingled with the fading light of the morning sun.

"You...you shall not die here, my savior." Adrei's fiery gaze softened into one of sorrow, her mighty wings lifting Demond's body with surprising gentleness. "Your journey ends not here, but in a place of peace, where your spirit can watch over this new era of understanding you have wrought." With a heavy heart, she sung a lullaby of ash and embers, a melody that resonated with the very essence of creation. Her voice was a symphony of ancient whispers, weaving a spell that would carry Demond's soul back from the afterlife.

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Demond opened his eyes, not to the hellish of underworld, but an empty classroom. It was a large hall, with high arched, cracked ceilings and long wooden benches that creaked under years of under-maintenance. The air was stale, filled with the dust of books not for magic, but for theories and technical jargons he has long forgotten.

His deep mind...heard a giggle, and it led him to one of the benches. One...with a light on the table. The light was a faint blue, and it grew brighter as he approached. His heart skipped a beat as he saw a small figure hovering over the light.

"You pixy never allow an old man to rest, do you?" Demond murmured as he took in the unfamiliar yet eerily nostalgic surroundings. He had not stepped foot in a classroom for over eighty years, not before he reincarnated. The labours of tears and warcries of blood drowned his past life a long, long time ago...

Yet even with the foreignness for a distant traveler, coming back to home for his final journey, this classroom felt eerily familiar. His eyes wandered over the dusty chalkboard, the cracked and worn parquet floors, and the rows of benches that had seen better days. Memories flooded back, of a time when his greatest fear was forgetting his harsh lecturer's chalk throwing skills, not the fiery breath of a dragon.

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Then with memory unrest, the scenery changes. The dusty chalkboard now covered with dusts and bricks, the creaked benches now replaced with the solid steel bars of scaffolding. The scent of ink and parchment is replaced with the scent of sweat, cement and magic engines.

The old mage chuckled, as the pixy swirled around him, curious of this scenery. This is the memory of a boy who struggled to survive in a strange world of mana and bloodshed, a time before he became a mediocre mage forgotten by times, and a father to a legend.

Entranced by nostalgia, the old mage opened his palm. Tars and dust swirled around his hand, and with a twirl of his fingers, he conjured a simple brick. It was a trick he had learned in his youth, a simple illusion to amuse the children of the village. But here, in this space of memory, the brick grew heavy with the weight of his past, a past when his first talent with magic is discovered.

He stared amused at the brick, but before he could say a word, the pixy snatched it with his beak, the weight of the memory making it fall like a real one. Pippy, seemingly unfazed by the sudden change in gravity, flew to the sky, but the old man blinked as colors of green and brown began to replace the classroom walls. The brick grew leaves and branches, becoming a tree, and the room was swallowed by the forest that he knew so well.

"Forest of Evermore..." the place where he brought his first companions to slay slimes for their first quest. The same place where he threw Alice into, claiming if she wants her next dinner, catch it herself.

The tree grew taller and taller, reaching the skies that were once so far away. The leaves grew greener, the branches wider, and the forest grew denser. As if knowing what's to come, the old mage closed his eyes, before the smell of flesh, iron and coal hit his nostrils.

Opening his eyes revealed a burning forest, a dragon's corpse, and his own youthful body, standing before the tree that had once been a brick. The young Demond, with a fiery passion that seemed to mirror Adrei's own, was surrounded by the scent of death. His companions lay scattered around, some burnt, others pierced by the dragon's claws. The battle had been fierce, a tale that would be sung for generations.

In the midst of the dragon's corpse, lies a calm, serene child, the target for his request, the reason for his hiding, and the hope of his legacy. The young Alice, her eyes wide with wonders and curiosity, as if seeing the world in its true colors for the first time. She looked up at him, her eyes gleaming with innocence, the same eyes that would one day hold the weight of the world.

So for a long while, Demond finally smiled. As he approached the young Alice, a voice called out from behind.