Chapter 249: Master?

Jon recounted with unsettling patience the story of how he had killed her son, again, in vivid detail.

Snow White, already teetering on the edge of sanity, was pushed further into despair. Rage, sorrow, disbelief, all of it twisted her face into a mask of agony. In a matter of hours, she had lived through a lifetime of devastation.

And just as she summoned what little strength she had left to lunge at Jon in a desperate bid for vengeance—

A blade pierced her back.

She froze, stunned, and turned her head. Standing behind her was King Kirk, his face void of mercy.

"Even knowing we had a son... you still did this?" she gasped.

Kirk sneered. "Exactly. The thought that he was born of you makes me sick."

He twisted the sword without hesitation. Her lifeblood spilled, her body trembled, and then flames erupted, incinerating her in an instant.

[Ding! Your legendary mission has been updated: Judge a thousand sinful souls across all worlds. Current progress: 92/1000.]

The Queen had been marked by Jon beforehand. The infernal seal he planted activated at the moment of her death, ensuring she died by his design, fulfilling the task's conditions.

Kirk stood frozen, sword in hand, his eyes glassy with despair. He never wanted to be king. He had longed for the carefree life of a wandering prince, surrounded by luxuries and women, not politics and war. He gave it all up for her.

And the woman he had loved turned out to be evil and liar.

Now, the responsibilities of a shattered kingdom weighed on his shoulders. Rage boiled in his veins. He even wished that he never know the truth.

"This is all your fault," he hissed at Jon.

Jon blinked. "Come on, again?"

"You! You ruined everything! You exposed the lie and destroyed my life!"

Jon exhaled with a bored sigh. "Ah, I see. No one else left to blame, huh? Might as well pick me."

Kirk raised his sword. "Then give me back everything I lost!"

Jon snapped his fingers.

In an instant, flames engulfed Kirk. He screamed once, and then ash fluttered to the ground.

[Ding! Your legendary mission has been updated: Judge a thousand sinful souls across all worlds. Current progress: 93/1000.]

"He wasn't clean either," Jon muttered. "Saves me the trouble of finding another one."

***

And just like that, the nation found itself without a king or queen. The people mourned, but not for long. A new ruler rose, repealing the witch hunts. Life went on.

In a world of witches, beasts, and demons, citizens adapted quickly. Chaos was nothing new.

Jon was mildly surprised by how fast the panic died down. He had expected days of unrest. Instead, calm returned by nightfall.

He left the capital, riding Igris, once a dragon, now his loyal steed, heading toward his next destination.

Jon had hoped the Queen's memories would reveal more about the Black Stone or the merchant who sold it. But both the Queen and her son, Adam, had seen the trader only once, cloaked in heavy robes, face always hidden. Their memories offered nothing useful.

So, Jon continued his journey. But before moving forward, he had one more stop to make.

He had brought someone with him from the dungeon beneath the Iron Tower, a man named Alden, who had narrowly avoided execution.

Deep in a quiet forest clearing, a modest village had begun to take shape. Small cabins stood where trees had been cleared. It wasn't much, but considering it had been built in just two days, it was impressive.

This wasn't an ordinary village. Its inhabitants were witches and cursed beings, werewolves, minotaurs, vampires, bearfolk, and more.

These were the ones Jon and Snow White's stepmother had freed from the Tower. They had realized they could only survive by uniting. Here, in the forest, they would create a sanctuary.

At the village's center, a portal opened.

A few nearby villagers, wary at first, turned to see who had arrived.

Out stepped Jon and Alden.

Recognizing Jon, the villagers immediately relaxed.

"The master is back!" a witch cried. "Someone tells Lady Grimhilde!"

A werewolf bowed low. "Welcome home, master."

Jon blinked. "Master... what now?"

Moments later, shadows thickened and Grimhilde emerged in her monstrous form. Alden promptly collapsed in terror.

Jon patted his shoulder. "Relax. She's a friend. Won't eat you. Probably."

Then he turned to Grimhilde. "Mind telling me why they're calling me 'Master'?"

Grimhilde nodded calmly. "Because we decided to build a home here. And we all agreed, if anyone should lead us, it's you, master."

Jon remained silent for a long while before finally asking, "Are you all truly certain you wish to follow me?"

"Yes, we are determined," Grimhilde replied without hesitation. "It was you who granted us our freedom. We owe you everything."

The others, beasts and cursed folk alike, voiced no objection. Their unified silence was answer enough.

Jon's gaze grew heavy. "Even if what I plan to do is dangerous, perhaps even suicidal?"

"Danger has been our only companion since the beginning," Grimhilde said calmly. "We don't fear it."

Jon gave a small nod. "Alright. Then stay here and keep building. I have to travel for a while longer."

"We'll be waiting, master," Grimhilde affirmed with a respectful bow.

Jon walked through the village, observing the steady progress. Despite its primitive appearance, the construction had clear structure and order. Of course, with cursed beasts and witches using their unique abilities, things got done faster than normal.

"Is there anything else you need to keep building?" Jon asked, figuring it was the least he could do as their reluctant leader.

Grimhilde hesitated. "While we gather most materials from the forest, we still need to buy supplies from nearby towns. And for that... we need money."

Jon sighed. Most of the money he had stolen from the Beast Prince's castle had either been used up, or foolishly handed to villagers in earlier travels.

Money. The eternal problem.

Seeing his expression, another witch stepped forward. Her appearance was jarring, a perfect image of the old crone from nightmare fairy tales. She wore a tattered cloak, a pointed black hat, and carried a broomstick and a shiny red apple. Her hooked nose, wrinkled face, bubbling sores, and fish-like eyes made her look like the villain in a child's book.

Jon nearly took a step back until Grimhilde's calm demeanor reminded him that this one, too, had been a prisoner.

"Master," the old witch rasped. "I once had enough wealth to sustain this village, but two wicked children stole it from me. I welcomed them into my home, and they burned me with my own hearth before running away."

She gestured to the scarred side of her face. "This happened before I was captured and sent to the tower. I used to live in Witherwood Town, not far from here. I don't know if they still reside there, but if you pass through... and recover the gold, it would help us greatly."

Jon narrowed his eyes. "Wait... did you used to own a candy house?"

The witch blinked. "Yes, I loved sweets and children. I invited them to my candy house to play. But the town hated me. Said I lured kids to eat them. Ridiculous lies. Eventually, they turned me in for a bounty."

Jon nodded slowly. He recalled the tale of the candy house, a pair of siblings, a witch, fire, and stolen treasure.

So, this was the dark version of the story.

"Alright," he said. "Give me their names. I'll keep an eye out."

Jon could sense malice in people, whether they lied or held guilt. This old witch, for all her horror-show appearance, felt clean. Her story, he believed.

"A boy and a girl. Siblings. They must be in their thirties now. Hazel and Gretel," she said. "There's no need to harm them. Just retrieve the gold."

She had a good heart even after all the horror and torture she has been through because of them.

"Understood. If I find them, I'll send the money back using a sealed portal scroll."

"Don't worry, master," Grimhilde chimed in. "I'll see to it that every coin is used for the village."

With key matters handled, Jon departed.

From the stolen memories of Snow White, he learned that the mysterious black stone merchant had ties to the neighboring kingdom of Rowe. That would be his next destination. Conveniently, Rowe had once been the target of King Kirk's failed invasion, an invasion Jon had derailed by killing the queen and forcing the king's retreat.

It was possible they'd welcome him as a savior... or try to kill him on sight. Either way, he'd find out.

But first, he'd make a detour to Witherwood Town.

Strangely, as Jon traveled, he realized his name had already become legend. The people called him the Ghost Knight, the man who slew the false queen and burned a tyrant king.

His mighty black armor, his horse, even his face stood out, his features alone were unique.

Everywhere he went, people whispered: "Look! It's the Ghost Knight!"

Most stayed back, fearful yet in awe. He had toppled a kingdom alone.

Was he a hero... or a walking omen?

Jon didn't care. Either way, they kept their distance.

And that suited him just fine.

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