Hate Me, Witch!-Chapter 148: King, Let Me Teach You One Last Lesson

The world fell utterly silent.

All that remained was the silver-white warhead falling from the heavens.

In the very next instant—

A tiny ignition mechanism within the payload was triggered.

Although the Western Continent, in this main material plane, possessed mana, Holy Relics, and even access to the Starrealm and Spiritrealm, it still adhered to a fundamentally different set of rules compared to the world Xia Ya came from in his previous life.

But even so—

Some concepts, some principles, were still universally applicable.

Whether it was a Pet Beast skill, the divine authority of a Mythical Being, a supernatural power or divine art—their core mechanism was always the same:

"Converting the wielder’s power into destructive force to inflict harm on the enemy."

And yet, even high-tier and super-tier skills operated at a painfully low efficiency.

There were always limits to life.

Even a Demi-God, or a True God, could only store so much power before reaching their threshold.

But what Xia Ya used in this moment—broke every known law of this supernormal world.

It followed a principle written into the foundation of this universe at the moment of its birth:

"Mass into energy."

The very same law that powered the cores of stars, allowing suns to burn eternally.

A mana crystal the size of a fingernail—if completely annihilated—could unleash enough energy to destroy an entire palace.

And the warhead Xia Ya now launched, which he named “Tsar Bomb”, contained mana crystals whose total mass was hundreds—no, thousands of times greater.

So—

A mere fraction of a second later.

Within the ocean of condensed mana crystals, a single mana particle collapsed in silence under the influence of the activation ritual.

And then, a cascade began.

One became two.

Two became four.

Four became eight, eight became sixteen…

Unchained. Unchecked.

The chain reaction devoured every free-floating mana particle nearby and pulled them in. They fused together—unleashing their mass in full.

And then, under the guidance of alchemical formation—

That collapsed mass was converted, without reservation, into pure light and heat.

Sound ceased to exist.

And along with it, so too did color.

Blinding radiance spiraled into whirlpools, engulfing the twisted, monstrous Crimson Moon in the sky above—

And the entire Holy City of Camelot below.

With a blinding roar, castles of metal and stone melted instantly—collapsing into rivers of molten lava.

Every structure, every lingering soul wandering this Imaginary Domain—trapped in endless loops of history—was utterly annihilated.

Even the three Round Table Knights, now corrupted and turned into bloodspawn under the Crimson Moon’s dominion, perished instantly.

Despite their hardened bodies—reinforced by divine grace—they melted like frost beneath sunlight.

Their Legend-tier regenerative flesh, supported by divine essence, should’ve withstood far worse.

And yet, when faced with this nuclear brilliance, they disintegrated in mere moments.

Because this attack—

Was not of this world.

And on the scorched ground—

Only one thing remained.

The suspended, lone blood-red moon.

That false god’s descent, once reigning high over the skies—

Now lay at the very center of this nuclear inferno.

Everything else—

The rivers of ash and molten ruins—

Were mere side effects of the impact.

Wuuuuuuuuung—

Not in the material world.

For in this searing inferno, even the air—the medium for sound—had been scorched into distortion.

The ancient, metallic ringing—like bronze drums colliding, like black iron groaning—echoed instead through the Starrealm, inside the image of the Crimson Moon.

It was the Crimson Moon—

Screaming.

The Holy City of Camelot—its own Godrealm—was unraveling beneath that unimaginable heat.

The divine vessel it had spent two entire eras restoring—

Was being torn apart in seconds.

The Moon didn’t just lose its sanctuary.

In desperation, it had descended directly into the material plane—exposing its half-formed divine body.

Every divine element that constructed the Crimson Moon was now laid bare before this unrelenting force.

And those particles—

Were being erased. Burned away.

Not instantly. But inevitably.

A slow, inescapable disintegration.

Wuuuuuuung—

Deep within the Starrealm, the Crimson Moon’s consciousness stirred—

And for the first time—

It felt shock.

A fear it hadn’t known since the end of the First Era.

Divinity is supposed to bow only to deeper, older divinity.

That was the law among Mythical Beings.

And the Crimson Moon—

Born of the Abyss in the First Era—

A god of primal moonlight, of blood, of eternity—

Had long believed nothing beneath the stars could harm it.

And yet now—

It could feel it.

A presence.

Not just equal to its divinity…

But surpassing it.

A divine presence more ancient, more vast, more absolute.

The same one it once glimpsed long ago—

The one known only by a single sacred name:

"The Eternal Sun."

Though this weapon couldn’t match that Supreme Being’s mass—

Its principles, its structure, its origin—

Were frighteningly similar.

And in that moment—

The Crimson Moon realized:

The moon may shine brightly.

It may be the most radiant light in the night sky.

But before the brilliance of the Sun—

It was nothing more than a firefly.

BOOM—

The twisted red moon’s glow dimmed all at once.

And yet, in desperation—

It tried to hold form, drawing upon every shred of power remaining—

To stop its divine body from falling apart.

Just like Its vampiric spawn, undying regeneration was always the Crimson Moon's specialty—one of Its most dominant traits even among all True Gods that had ever existed.

Divine power surged from the Starrealm, barely managing to reignite the crimson glow of the moon, shielding the very core of Camelot’s domain.

But then—

A thousandth of a second later, that blood-colored brilliance shattered once more.

In the span of just a few breaths, annihilation and regeneration repeated dozens of times.

The Crimson Moon didn’t know what method that individual—clearly someone tied to Augtina—had used to unleash such devastating power.

But energy that could threaten a Mythical Being... it couldn’t possibly be infinite.

So long as there was the briefest pause, even the smallest moment of stillness, It could invoke Its authority over secrets to slip free from the lock-on.

Abandon the material plane, discard the Imaginary Domain, even relinquish Its Godrealm and Its worshippers.

Just preserve Its core divinity, its authority, and its sense of self—then flee into the Starrealm.

And there, go dormant…

Yes. Not revenge. Not retaliation.

Just survival.

That was how the Crimson Moon had endured since the First Era, long after other ancient gods had faded—either slain, sealed in the depths of the Starrealm, or dethroned entirely.

The Crimson Moon endured because—

It was cautious.

Or rather—it was a coward.

But just as this old Abyssal god's divine thoughts began to stir with escape—

It saw it.

A golden spark.

And then—

A cold, elegant voice echoed through the Starrealm, brushing softly against Its divine consciousness:

“Well now, long time no see… Crimson Moon.”

“Didn’t expect to run into an old face from the First Era here of all places.”

“And I really didn’t expect that the coward who turned tail in the Final Battle, like some scrap-tier trash, would still be putting on this ‘lofty god’ act…”

The words weren’t shouted, nor laden with divine wrath.

They were calm—like a casual greeting between old acquaintances.

And yet—

That one voice caused the Crimson Moon’s divine thoughts to freeze solid.

Deep within Its divine mind—

Memories long buried across Eras began to surface.

They were so old, even the Starrealm's deepest records had forgotten them.

Even Thrones and newborn gods knew little of that ancient past.

Most only knew vague outlines:

That the Crimson Moon was born of the Abyss.

That It had survived the apocalyptic war that ended the First Era.

That many gods had perished. That countless Thrones had changed hands.

And that Crimson Moon, though crippled, had lived on.

That alone made It stand apart.

But only the Crimson Moon itself knew the truth.

It hadn’t survived because it was stronger than those who fell.

Nor because Its authorities were better suited to survival.

Not even because of Its vaunted immortality.

The real reason it lived—

Was because it ran.

After Its Godrealm and half its Throne were obliterated in a single strike,

It didn’t even try to fight back.

It simply fled into the Starrealm, hiding like a rat.

Yes, It’d “survived” the great war that ended the First Era—

But only because It had barely participated at all.

More like chucking a shuriken from 800 miles away, then immediately running for its life.

“You’re… the Golden Elf from the Black Tower?!”

That voice came like the clang of war-drums—like ancient bronze clashing with black iron.

“No—no, that’s impossible!”

“Your true body was banished to the edge of the Dimensional Void at the end of the First Era! You couldn’t possibly—!”

The Crimson Moon’s divine presence flared with panic, scanning the vast Starrealm in every direction—

But found nothing.

And then the cold, elegant voice returned:

“No need to repeat all that for me.”

“Yes, my real body is still trapped at the far end of the Void.”

“But this is the Starrealm.”

“And even if I have to pierce through ten thousand world-barriers and dimensional cracks—”

“Here, in this place—”

“A single finger is all I need.”

The Crimson Moon exploded in divine light.

Even knowing it was only a projection, not the real body—

Even knowing it was just a voice, transmitted across dimensions—

Once It recognized who that voice belonged to—

The ancient terror reawakened.

The cowardice It thought long buried surged once more.

And the grotesque red moon—panicked and desperate—prepared to flee.

To vanish from the Starrealm, before it was too late.

But then—

A single, pale-white finger—

Appeared silently against the vast cosmic backdrop.

In the face of the infinite stars, that delicate finger seemed tiny—insignificant.

But in that moment—

All starlight dimmed.

Time froze.

Stars stopped twinkling. Constellations ceased their drift.

Even the ripple of the Crimson Moon’s divine thoughts—

Stopped.

The Starrealm itself was frozen in place.

And only that pale-white finger—

Grew ever larger.

“Ugh… after all that dimensional weakening, one finger’s probably not enough to fully erase both divinity and godhood.”

“Sooner or later, you’ll crawl back from the Starrealm…”

The voice sounded genuinely annoyed.

“In that case, I’ll leave the rest to that kid.”

“He is the one who beat you to near-death. Wouldn’t be fair to steal his kill…”

And then came a soft sigh.

“Still don’t know why I end up taking a disciple a thousand years from now.”

“But if the future me really took him in, and… with that feeling…”

The voice wavered slightly.

Barely detectable. But it was there.

A flicker of emotion.

“Then maybe… just maybe… it wasn’t just my own one-sided delusion.”

In the next moment—

That pale-white finger moved.

No eruption of mana. No shockwave. No divine pressure.

Just a single touch.

And then it vanished—

As if it had never been there at all.

And in the Starrealm, time began to flow once again.

“Golden Elf… the Black Tower…”

“She said… just one finger of power?”

The Crimson Moon’s divine thoughts resumed. The mental processes that had been frozen reconnected again.

But right after—

That divine consciousness froze forever.

Frozen in the very instant It saw the final word echoing in Its mind.

A term that could shake even the gods of the First Era—

“Godslaying Finger.”

And then—

The Starrealm coordinates at that location were completely obliterated.

Back on the material plane…

The Holy City of Camelot.

Or rather—

What was once called Camelot.

Now, it had become nothing more than molten ruin—a burning river of lava.

The soft night slowly faded away, revealing the figure of Xayah clad in a black robe embroidered with red clouds.

He tilted his head slightly, listening to the information being transmitted from the Starrealm.

A long moment passed.

Then, Xayah gave a little clap.

“As expected of my master. Whether it’s you from a thousand years ago, or you a thousand years later… you’re just as reliable.”

“The Starrealm and the lower dimensions have thin barriers, so I could intervene a little from afar… but matters of the material realm are a different story.”

A cool, indifferent message drifted down from the Starrealm.

“No worries. I honestly didn’t expect even your ‘younger self’ could knock the Crimson Moon down from the Starrealm. I thought you’d still be hiding in some dimensional rift.”

“Anyway, you don’t need to worry about what comes next. That’s my problem to deal with.”

“Hiding? ‘Young me’...?”

The cold voice from the Starrealm paused.

Xayah could feel a pair of ancient eyes casting a long look at him from afar—then slowly turning away.

Whoosh—

As the gaze from the Starrealm finally vanished, Xayah let out a long sigh of relief.

"As expected... whether it's a thousand years ago or a thousand years later..."

"Messing with Master is always a thrilling experience."

At his side, a faint shadow wove itself from the surrounding darkness.

Augtina reappeared, wrapped in a veil of twilight and night.

Though she still looked just as quiet and composed as always, Xayah could clearly feel it—

The shroud of eternal night and shadows that usually surrounded her had dimmed significantly.

“The power I stored in the Hourglass of Time is nearly depleted… and the Crimson Moon’s fall caused a brief backlash in my own divine nature,” she said softly.

“If I don’t want to lose control and lash out at you by mistake, I’ll need to return to the City of a Thousand Years and go back into slumber.”

Her voice was calm, but her crimson-gold eyes had dulled with exhaustion.

She didn’t try to hide the fact that she was utterly spent.

“Yeah. Go get some rest,” Xayah said quietly.

“Thanks, Augtina. Once I’m back… I’ll be sure to send a little extra business your way.”

The fading night slowly rose toward the high heavens.

Xayah’s whispered words drifted into the wind—heard by none.

“That is… if I make it back at all.”

But soon, he turned his gaze away.

Then looked up—

At that still-hanging crimson moon.

Crack—

A sharp, brittle sound echoed across the sky.

A tiny fracture had appeared on the twisted, blood-red moon.

At first, it was barely noticeable.

But within a few breaths—

That crack widened. Fast.

Soon, it covered the entire surface of the moon.

Snap.

The Crimson Moon, once the divine body of a True God, shattered into pieces—

Falling apart into countless eerie red particles of light.

Those twisted, flickering motes of red slowly began to coalesce.

Forming something solid—

A crystal-clear chalice, glowing faintly red like a carved ruby chess piece.

A Stellar Chalice.

This chalice contained the entire divine essence and authority of an ancient Abyssal god.

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In the ancient echoes of the Empire of Cangting, Xayah had once obtained a fragment of a Twilight Elder God’s chalice—

But that had come from a sealed half-body, incomplete and weakened over centuries.

This—

This was a complete Stellar Chalice.

It was no exaggeration to call it a ticket to the Throne.

And in the very instant he grasped it—

Xayah’s ears, and his mental sea, were flooded with mad whispers.

Whispers so loud, so overwhelming—

He was suddenly struck with a powerful urge to praise the moon.

Unlike the long-dormant divinity of the sealed Twilight god, the Crimson Moon’s Chalice had just been freshly condensed.

Its residual will was still active, still echoing with temptations far stronger than any other eldritch being or corruptive artifact Xayah had ever encountered.

“Trying to seduce me into becoming your new vessel, huh?”

Xayah chuckled at the blood-red chalice in his hand.

“In that case—”

“As you wish.”

“If you’re not afraid.”

He grasped the crimson chalice—

And without a hint of hesitation—

Plunged it straight into his chest.

BOOM—

Light erupted.

But it wasn’t the Crimson Moon’s glow.

It was the blazing fire of a Magitek Core.

In Xayah’s eyes, the alchemic matrix spun slowly.

Jet-black immortal metal spilled forth, tempered by the matrix, shaping into countless intricate components.

And in his chest—

A radiant engine pulsed with a brilliance like the sun itself.

The Crimson Chalice was devoured by the light.

Its strange crimson glow swallowed whole by blinding white heat.

Then—

Completely crushed by the furnace at the core of his being.

Clang.

Clang—

A river of pitch-black Immortal Metal surged forth, swallowing Xayah whole.

One after another, metal components encircled him, rapidly completing the cycle of alchemical forging, assembly, and fusion.

The clash of countless metal parts echoed in the air.

In just a few short breaths—

Xayah was no longer standing there as a man.

He had been replaced by a massive, jet-black Magitek construct.

The once white-hot core at his chest, the Magitek Reactor, had now been tainted by the Crimson Chalice, its flames burning with a seductive blood-red glow that pierced the heavens.

This was the reborn Black Knight.

Fueled by the Star Chalice, it was a transformation that came with a heavy cost—by nature, a one-time ignition, a non-renewable surge.

But at least during this brief moment—

The Black Knight was no longer a machine that could barely match a Legendary.

Now, it had stepped beyond that level.

Into a realm that no mechanist had ever reached before.

And so—

Xayah stood clad in this crimson-and-black machine armor, and slowly raised his head.

His gaze lifted—

And locked upon the highest point of the Throne Room.

Upon her.

The silver-haired figure wielding the Holy Sword.

Under this skyless void—

Across the scorched and lifeless earth.

There were no people.

No gods.

No spectators at all.

Only this fragment of the ruined Camelot, adrift beyond the flow of time.

And across that boundless sky,

Two figures looked at each other from afar.

“So then, King…”

Xayah smiled softly.

His words drifted across this world of nothingness.

“Since no one else can set you right…”

“Then—”

“Let me be the one… to teach you your final lesson.”