Man stood in front of the elm tree in the middle of the encampment that m and began ting its branches, her pose akimbo, head tilted up. Landevale approached her from behind and said, “Miss Man, we’re sorry, but we ’t find any broomsticks.”
“As expected. What about vacuum ers?” Man inquired.
“S-sorry?” Landevale blinked. “I’m not sure... Should I get someoo find one for you?”
Turning towards her with a ugh, Man replied, “No, haha. I’m just kidding. I thought you’d get the reference, and I’d get to say, ‘I’m a modern witch after all, I ride vacuum ers now,’ or you might say, ‘What are you? A modern witch who rides a vacuum er instead of a broomstick?’”
The female knight stood there, mouth wide open in fusion.
Man awkwardly brushed it off, “It’s fine, fet it. I remember why I was gloomy before—my jokes are weird; no one ughs at them.”
Landevale finally uood what Man was saying and subtly nodded. She simply hadn’t expected su illustrious person as the legend herself, Man Le Fay, to make a witty joke.
"Well, it’s true that I still need a broom to ride,” Man remarked dryly.
With a flick of her wrist, she jured a transparent ptform and fidently stepped onto the air. Crafting an invisible staircase, she asded to a sturdy tree branch.
“This one is just begging to be used,” she muttered, striking a dramatic pose before leaping—
“Miss Man?!”
Landevale's incredulous tone filled the air as she witnessed Man hanging precariously from the branch, apparently attempting to break it with her mere presend gravity.
“W-what are y to do, Miss?!”
Unsurprisingly, her antics drew a crowd, their muasks momentarily fotten as they watched the enting sight of a goddess engaging in some rather unorthodox acrobatics.
CRACK! CRACKLE—CRACKLE—
“Miss!”
“Yah!” Man nded gracefully, defying all expectations.
Landevale hurried over, her palpable. “If you needed a branch, why not just ask? I could have fetched it for you, you know.”
"It will ruin the magic, you know? Huff!" Man wiped her sweat. "There are two traditional ways of making a ‘witch’s broomstick’. One, we buy a pletely normal broom from a craftsman who specializes in household items, then give it an entment, and two..."
"...we make it ourselves, without magic, without anyone’s help," Man expined.
She turo the elm, sloroag it, and touched its trunk. Her palm started to glow, and the broken branch began to heal, though nrow. She smiled and said, "Thank you."
Brooms were ing tools, symbolizing purification. They were not initially a witch’s signature, but Man's. As a holy woman, using purification tools became her trademark.
Initially, she didn’t use a broom at all. It was merely a funny joke and a rept. She used to sit atop the broken-off branch of the world tree, flying around and purifying corruptions.
Perhaps the broom stuck more than the branch did, and people began associating witches with brooms. Ma along with it, referring to it as the witch's broom, even though it was just an ented broomstick.
Now, as she held the branch, she enced her spell. The branch's surface began to shed and smoothen, elongating as the leaves widened and transformed into a glowing golden-white color.
There was a hint of nostalgia in Man's eyes. It was unclear whether the broomstick repced the world tree branch as a symbol of purification or whether, to her, the world tree branch was merely a glorified broomstick.
“With this, I’ll finally be able to go—”
SCREEEEEEEEEECH!!!
As the weary soldiers of the Soulnaught army rubbed their eyes in disbelief, the air crackled with tension. Two colossal metal griffins desded upon their war encampment like a se from a twisted fairy tale.
One bawain, one of the members of the Round Table, his stoic demeanor seemingly at odds with the fantastical steed beh him. All the while, a stranger perched atop the other, a glint of mischief dang in his eyes, a stark trast to the meical beast he trolled.
The griffins' design made onlookers wonder if the creator had been imbibing questioions during their design process. These marvels of engineering sported energy duits that emitted a fierce glow, enough power tnite a dead p—quite overkill for a mere battlefield, one might think.
The soldiers exged incredulous gnces, unsure whether to be terrified or amused by this ued turn of events.
Until…
"Yer Majestee!" the stranger in one of the steeds called cheerfully. The stranger Burn reized as the space merary and the skillful White Dwarf user, Dirk.
Burn, standing there with his greatsword on his baarrowed his eyes.
These two metal griffins were…
“...parts of that cursed chariot?!” Man gasped, exg as she finished Burn’s thoughts.
Burn turoward the source of the voice that seemed to float high in the air. Just then, he saw Man sitting atop a floating, long, and sturdy white tree branch.
He had two questions.
***
"I saw you attempting to ditch these two beauties just because you despised the chariot, so I rescued them!" Dirk remarked, his at vanishing after activating his transtion device.
The griffins were desigo be lio the chariot. Figuring out how to unattach them required plex ands that Burn couldn't his head around in the given timeframe. No mei speed dial or the tech savvy he could pay to reprogram them either. Cssic predit, right?
Dirk and his crew, looking for eai amidst their task, which required a lot of waiting, took on side missions like repairing Burn's gadgets and tinkering with outsider tech he bought.
"These two are straight out of a fairy tale, right? Marketed for a high fantasy realm," Dirk quipped, a sly grin on his face. "In my world, they marketed steampunk styled products. But this one is much more sophisticated, if you ask me."
"It’s not for efficy purposes, just like I suspected then,” Burn said as he tapped the beak of one of the metal griffins. “But you’re right. They’re beauties.”
“Keheheheh,” Dirk cackled—then turo the beautiful dy sitting sideways atop a floating branch. “Speaking of high fantasy… as expected, you had a bombshell of a goddess here too.”
“That’s my wife,” Burn said as he mounted one of the griffins.
Dirk widened his mouth, “WHAT?!”
“Soon to be,” Burn corrected, and tinued, “You came to tell me about the result of your task, right? Have you secured tact with your family?”
Dirk was still rec from his shock when he heard the question. “Y-yes. They will soon tact me again after they secure a means of transportation to ehis realm. The erminal is 4 million light-years away from here, you know? Not to mention they had to smuggle in.”
“Take your time,” Burn said. “The faster you do it, the better for yourself anyway. And if you dare betray me…”
“I know, I know,” Dirk sighed. “I wouldn’t even imagiraying a man who tanked 3% of the raw heat of a colpsing sun right in front of my eyes.”
Nothing on nd could harm or kill Burn.
And Dirk khe Alliater than anyone anyway. His ce of survival was lower if he betrayed Burn and sided with the Allianot to mention this maually treated his sves like humans.
Well, in a sehat he also treated other humans the same way.
As long as they had a use for him, he would treat them well. In this case, Dirk had more use to him than to the Alliance.
With that, Burn turoward Man. Only with his gaze, he questioned where she got that floating branch from.
"I just made it. Pretty, right?" Man twirled with the branch, floating midair. All eyes turoward her, and the phrase, cursed by the witch, became a huimes more attractive, now positively otated. But no more expnation?
"I’m sure even the shit you make is glittery and smells like roses. Are you departing now, straight to the elves?" Burn asked, as the others started to accept Man’s expnation without further crification too.
"I guess I shouldn’t go there yelling and spouting things without reliable proof, but we don’t have much time, do we?" Man sighed as she led the branch to float near Burn. "Are you sure yoing alone?"
Burn nodded. "That’s why you have to e to me as soon as you’re done, right?"
Man looked a bit regretful, while Burn smiled helplessly at her.
"Alright. Let’s go," Burn stopped himself from lingering around Man and turned himself away. "Yvain, Gahad, I leave this pce to you. Gawain, bring Dirk Marshall back to Edensor with you."
"Yes, sir!"
But Dirk suddenly yelled, “Ah, wait! There’s something I almost fot to tell you!”
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Is it just me but these days I 't sleep without watg ASMR of pretty girls poking my face? Before you think of anything weird, they're poking the camera with their fingers.
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