Hate Me, Witch!-Chapter 163: Welcome Back, My Consort

A howling wind swept through the palace, where silence hung so heavy that even a falling pin could be heard.

Everyone present—envoys from the Oathbound Families, noble guests, and others who aligned with the royal court—

In the instant they saw the figure rising from the black flames, every neuron in their brain began firing in overdrive, struggling to comprehend the absurdity of the scene before them.

Everything Tarik had said and done up to this point clearly indicated he had struck a secret deal with the Twilight Order...

And that he had prepared a Divine Descent to welcome the Lord of Ashes into the heart of the Imperial Capital.

But someone—anyone—could they please explain…

Why the hell did that descent result in him?

Xia Ya Egut.

A descendant of the fallen kingdom of Ceylan, handpicked by the Second Imperial Princess Isadella as her new Swordbearer.

His last public appearance had been at the engagement banquet hosted by the Borgia Family, where he displayed the power of a Fourth-Ring Master-Tier Beastmaster.

With a preemptive strike, he killed the Titled-tier Beastmaster "Silver Fox" Lir, who had let down his guard—an attack that revealed explosive strength at least at the Fifth-Ring level.

Given his immense talent, many had speculated that after half a year, Xia Ya likely possessed Six-Ring-level combat power.

That was the sum total of what the nobles of the capital had been able to dig up about him through discreet investigations.

And yet—

Even if he had truly broken through to the sixth ring, that still didn’t explain this.

The Lord of Ashes—that was a true god, one whose essence had never been wounded or diminished!

Forget Six-Ring—

Even a Legendary-tier powerhouse was little more than a bug in the face of a god’s Divine Descent.

In that moment, it was as if the CPUs in every noble’s mind had started smoking from overload.

On the other side, Tarik stood just as dumbfounded.

Wasn’t this supposed to be the Lord of Ashes’ descent?

So how the h*ll did he summon... that guy?

But a Legendary-tier figure was still a Legendary-tier figure—his mind, forged into a vast mental sea, began whirring at full speed.

Calling on his near-perfect memory, Tarik dove into a mental storm of thoughts, desperately piecing together clues for an explanation.

Then, in a flash—

Tarik felt he had grasped the key detail.

He remembered now—Xia Ya Egut’s rise to fame in the Imperial Capital had started during the Twilight Order’s assault on Saint Roland Academy, when he single-handedly crushed their entire conspiracy.

He even took down a Fourth-Ring Pontiff, earning his fame from that battle alone.

And just before that Pontiff died, he’d shouted a single phrase:

“Son of God!”

That line had been noted in the internal report as a slur or insult. The whole incident had been buried, thanks to Isadella’s deliberate efforts. Very few ever knew about that detail.

But Tarik—being a Legendary-tier of the royal family—had reviewed the full report when Isadella first selected Xia Ya as her Swordbearer.

What if—

That “Son of God” wasn’t blasphemy… but a truth the Pontiff had glimpsed just before death?

And what about Xia Ya’s signature move—black flames?

It had always been assumed to be a Summoned Beast’s skill. But now, it seemed more likely that it was an innate authority, not a beast's gift.

If that were true, then everything made sense.

Why a boy from the ashes of Ceylan, a so-called “nobody” with no background, could possess such terrifying talent, rising like an unstoppable comet—

Why he could crush the Twilight Order’s plot with just Second-Ring power—

Why Tarik’s divine relic, meant to summon the Lord of Ashes, had brought forth Xia Ya’s true form instead—

Why the black flames, which even a Legendary would fear for their soul-burning divine punishment, could not harm Xia Ya in the slightest—

It could only be because—

Xia Ya Egut was the son of the Evil God from the start.

A being who had disguised himself as human, hiding in plain sight within the Empire, waiting patiently for the right moment—

Until now, when he finally chose to reveal himself.

Hssss——

Tarik sucked in a sharp breath, as if his soul had turned to ice.

He felt like he’d uncovered the tip of a monstrous conspiracy, and the more he considered it, the more terrified he became.

If this were true, then the Lord of Ashes was far more terrifying than anyone could have imagined.

A thousand years of planning. A thousand years of patience.

Pretending to be a mindless, pyromaniacal cult with no real strategy—just to lull everyone into underestimating them.

All the while, secretly planting his own child inside the Empire…

And somehow—somehow—this Xia Ya had even won over Isadella’s heart.

If that was the case—

Then as long as they quietly silenced everyone in this palace—including Isadella herself—

And then presented Xia Ya to the people as the Empress’s consort, flanked by the loyalty of nobles and Oathbound Families…

He might very well ascend to the position of Regent.

Without any resistance—he could bring the strongest human nation on the continent, the Empire, under his control.

Then, all it would take would be one quiet decree making the Lord of Ashes the state religion—

And tens of millions of imperial citizens would become followers of the Evil God overnight.

Such a massive outpouring of faith—

Not even the Holy Theocracy, with its worship of the Seven Dawn Gods, could compare. After all, even they split their faith among seven deities.

But this? This would be undivided faith, all for one.

What a grand scheme. What unparalleled strategy.

A thousand years in the making, with every move a hidden thread.

Using millions of lives as pawns.

Using his own son as bait.

And inviting the entire world into his game.

What terrifying ambition.

Compared to the Lord of Ashes, even other cults and the Abyss, even the ancient group Golden Dawn, seemed laughably small.

The theory was shaky at first—but the more Tarik pieced together, the more the scattered details started clicking into place.

Tarik was so rattled, he didn’t even notice the searing burn of the black flames coiling around him.

With sudden fervor, he yanked out his cane, eyes blazing as he turned to the figure standing in the heart of the black fire.

“Honored Son of Ashes,”

“I was fortunate enough to glimpse a sliver of your father’s millennia-spanning plan.”

“But I imagine—even the great Lord of Ashes, if he wishes to quietly bring the Empire under control, must rely on servants and subordinates to govern and deflect suspicion.”

“After all, no matter how powerful your father is, the Dawn Church’s Seven Gods aren’t exactly weaklings.”

Tarik’s aged, stooped frame slowly straightened, and a cunning glint, like that of a seasoned fox, lit up his once-cloudy eyes.

“That means there’s only one answer!”

He held the peachwood cane across his chest.

Carved into the cane was a coordinate—a secret location shrouded in Black Fog—used by the mysterious organization Golden Dawn for their gatherings.

It was also a symbol of Tarik’s identity as a member of that group.

But in the very next moment, Tarik bent his knee and—

Crack—

The cane shattered in two.

He’d long since made up his mind. After choosing to extend his lifespan through taboo means, there was no way he could remain within the Orderly Faction following the turmoil in the capital.

So if he had to pick a hidden power to throw his lot in with, there was no question.

Compared to those chaotic cults from the Lost Domain, or Golden Dawn with its riddle-speaking, god-knows-what-they-want leader—

The cunning and deep-rooted Ashen Order was the one worth betting on.

Breaking the cane was his symbolic break from Golden Dawn—a gesture to show his loyalty to Xia Ya, the supposed heir of the Evil God.

“I hereby pledge my loyalty to you!”

Elsewhere, as Tarik suddenly proclaimed his allegiance,

Even the nobles who had been frantically trying to flee the sea of black flame now started catching on.

After all, you don’t get to be a great noble or an envoy from the Oathbound Families without some level of supernatural power or political savvy.

Their instincts were razor-sharp.

Until now, they hadn’t quite wrapped their heads around what was happening.

But after Tarik’s declaration, many began to put the pieces together.

Especially those from the Oathbound Families—they’d long coveted the throne, dabbling in all sorts of shady business over the years.

Only the Borgia Family’s crushing defeat, Guderian’s death, and Isadella’s rise to Throne-level power had forced them to outwardly toe the line and maintain the facade of loyalty.

But now the tables had turned.

Even if they didn’t fully grasp the grand picture, they could sense the tides shifting—and they knew when to jump ship.

And so, the whispers of allegiance began to rise.

“Your Holiness, Son of Ashes,”

“Our Golden Tulip Family may lack a Legendary-tier expert like Lord Tarik, but we’ve long operated in the slave trade and have considerable expertise in such matters.”

“Should you truly claim the Empire, public sacrificial burnings might alarm the masses... but nameless slaves and missing persons—now those make ideal offerings.”

“Yes, our May Eagle Family has also—”

“Same here!”

As cane after cane was broken and voice after voice swore loyalty—

Even those who had remained loyal to the crown began to waver.

“Your Majesty, something’s... off with Xia Ya.”

Diresa leaned in close to Isadella, whispering softly in her ear.

She didn’t buy any of this nonsense about Xia Ya being some Evil God’s heir.

As someone who had personally used Dreamweaving on him, she knew better than anyone just how grand and pure that young man’s heart was.

It was that dream—a utopia untouched by the world’s filth—that had touched the heart of this Succubus Princess, shaken it from its foundations.

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But even so, something really was off.

Xia Ya couldn’t be a god’s child… but that he might have been corrupted by the Lord of Ashes, lured in through some polluted sacrament—

That possibility was real.

“No,” Isadella replied calmly.

“I know it’s him.”

“He is Xia Ya. He’s the one I’ve been waiting for.”

In the midst of all this chaos, Isadella alone remained motionless.

She planted her golden Holy Sword into the ground before her, her crimson eyes locked on the silhouette in the flames, her gaze filled with tender longing.

To others, the sight made it seem like she’d completely lost it.

And honestly, could you blame her?

To have the one you love suddenly standing with your enemies, betraying you on the spot—anyone would break.

But—

Just as that thought began to rise—

Xia Ya’s voice rang out from within the black flames.

Calm. Even. Not loud, but clear.

“Yeah, no matter how many times I see it, I still get nauseous from how pathetically sycophantic they are.”

“The May Eagle Family... If I remember right, that’s the house Gawain came from, isn’t it?”

“If that big ape saw his descendants acting like this, peddling slaves with disgusting grins on their faces—he’d probably crawl out of his grave in fury.”

His voice sliced through the air like a blade, cold and sharp.

The nobles who had been eagerly pledging their loyalty froze, mid-bow, like statues.

Xia Ya stepped forward from the sea of black flame, wrapped in its blazing glow.

He didn’t spare even a glance for the nobles groveling at his feet.

His gaze was fixed only on one person.

Not the silver-haired Imperial Princess—

But the woman who now stood as the Empress of the Empire.

With a sigh, he muttered,

“Seriously... that just made me wanna puke.”

“If I kill them all, it won’t affect your rule or the Empire’s stability, right?”

Hearing Xia Ya’s words, a faint smile appeared on Isadella’s usually cold and elegant face.

“Of course not. They’re just fence-sitters,” she replied calmly. “In the Imaginary Zone, they were always the first to be purged anyway.”

“If they die, so be it.”

“Good,” Xia Ya responded casually.

The next instant—

The sea of black flames surged forward.

Carrying an overwhelming divine mystery, it surged across the side hall in the blink of an eye, swallowing all those nobles who had just pledged their loyalty moments before.

In the face of the black flames, born of a false god’s skull and capable of incinerating even demigods—

Most of the transcendent beings didn’t even have time to scream or struggle. They were simply consumed, erased without a trace, reduced to their most basic form of magical particles.

Only one lasted slightly longer—Tarik.

A veteran Legendary, he managed to cling to a shred of consciousness even as the inferno reduced every cell of his body to ash.

“You… you were lying to me all along?”

His flesh and skin gone, only a scorched skull remained, mouth creaking open with a hoarse cry from within the flames.

“Yup. I was the one who gave you the divine revelation in the first place.”

Xia Ya smiled faintly.

“So? Surprised? Shocked?”

“You—”

The skull twitched feebly, fueled by bitter resentment and an unwillingness to pass on, clinging to the world with the last remnants of soul and hatred.

But soon, the black fire penetrated even the divine shell, burning straight through to the soul.

With a hiss like hot iron sinking into water, the inferno pulled him into another realm—

Erasing him completely.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Amid the scorched silence, the only sound was the clicking of high heels against the marble floor.

Isadella walked toward Xia Ya step by step.

She untied the silver ribbon in her hair. The ponytail fell apart, and her long silver locks cascaded down her back like a waterfall, gently swaying in the hot air stirred by the flames.

Wearing her dark ceremonial uniform, the Empress came to stand before Xia Ya.

“It’s been a while,” she said softly.

Lifting her head, those ruby-red eyes studied the black-haired youth in front of her with care.

Though it had only been three months in the real world, as the wielder of the Holy Sword, and once the Queen of the Imaginary Zone, Isadella could clearly see the weight of time now etched into him.

“You were in there for about ten years, weren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Xia Ya nodded.

He paused, then added, “To be precise, ten years, one month, and three days.”

“What a shame,” Isadella chuckled. “Didn’t expect to fall that far behind your childhood sweetheart in just a blink.”

“Guess I’ll have to double-time it to catch up now.”

Just then, Xia Ya’s mental senses picked up a subtle ripple of arcane energy behind him.

And with it came the dusk-colored veil shrouding the far-off night sky—

And the faint, sneaky gaze of a white cat peeking in.

That cat was incredibly familiar to Xia Ya.

It was the spiritual projection of the Pale Silver Witch—Sylvia.

Or more accurately, one of the “True Eyes” she’d left scattered throughout the Empire—each placed in major cities where Xia Ya might return, so she could know the moment he appeared.

Now that she’d detected the commotion within the palace—and that familiar aura—this particular “cat” had wasted no time peeking in.

When she laid eyes on Xia Ya’s figure, a burst of joyous spiritual resonance immediately pulsed out from the cat.

But then, as if she hadn’t noticed at all—

A glimmer of mischief suddenly flashed through Isadella’s crimson gaze.

She rose up slightly on tiptoe.

And the next moment, something soft and cool brushed against Xia Ya’s lips.

For several long seconds, the kiss lingered—before finally parting.

“No matter what, welcome home.”

“My Swordbearer... and my Consort.”

“And…”

She reached out, her snow-white fingers gently stroking Xia Ya’s cheek, her voice lifting just slightly—

Just enough to make sure that white cat hiding in the twilight could hear clearly.

“The Imperial Empress’s wedding... when do you think we should set the date?”