The Witch of Hate

Inside the throne room of Love a grandiose display of opulence and deceit. Marble pillars, carved with intricate symbols of the Love Goddess, reached toward a ceiling painted with scenes of divine romance. At the center of the room sat the Love cults leader, a woman with an exaggerated smile that dripped with insincerity. Her voice was sweet as she addressed the gathered cultists. In her hands were the three fire relics—each pulsating with a dim, fiery glow, as if aware they were far from their rightful master.

"Tomorrow is a grand day my loves we will be able to make our one thousandth sacrifice to our one true God, Hathornia. Also, we have begun negotiations with the demons of the Fire Demon's nation of Faiaomura," she declared, her voice tinged with an underlying menace. "They wish to punish the one who dared wield their relics without their false God's blessing. In exchange for these relics and the fool who wielded them, they will supply us with the resources we need to expand our love across the planet. A fair trade, wouldn't you agree?" The cultists cheered in agreement, their voices echoing through the halls of the grand cathedral.

Kintu's eyes fluttered open, burned by day lights kiss he felt the cold, damp air of the dungeon assaulting his senses. His body ached from the battle and subsequent capture, but his mind was sharp, assessing the situation with the precision of a seasoned warrior. Beside him, the panther beast kin woman stirred, her hair matted with dirt from being dragged, her eyes clouded with despair.

"Thanks for your help back there," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I did not mean to drag you into this. They are going to sacrifice me tonight… and it is all my fault they will most likely sacrifice you also."

"Where are my manners?" the panther woman said with a faint smile. "My name is Nyota Marjani." Her eyes, golden and intense, held a depth of sorrow that contrasted with her fierce exterior.

"Where are we?" Kintu asked, glancing around the dimly lit room.

"We are in the dungeon of my homeland, "Where are we?" Kintu asked, glancing around the dimly lit room.

"We're in the dungeon of my homeland, Amara' Kal, once a thriving kingdom," Nyota replied, her tone heavy with regret., once a thriving kingdom," Nyota replied, her tone heavy with regret.

"This land wasn't always like this, you know," she began, her voice tinged with sorrow. She began to recount the tale of her once-grand country, now reduced to a cult's dominion—a place that had become a mere shadow of its former glory.

"Long ago," Nyota began, her voice a low, resonant whisper, "my homeland, Amara' Kal, was a flourishing kingdom. We were known for our wealth, seated as we were beside a vast platinum mine. Our people were prosperous, our king, old and kind, beloved by all. But it was this very wealth and our king's goodness that led to our downfall, triggered by the relic wars. Nations across the world sought power, and bounties were placed on the gods' relics. Yet, it was our king's pursuit that brought us to ruin."

Kintu listened intently; his senses heightened in the dark, damp dungeon. He could feel the despair in Nyota's words as she continued her story.

"It all began with Love," she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. "A smile belonging to a woman of unparalleled beauty, but deeply flawed. Her name was Seraphina, and she was so enchanting that relic hunters from far and wide fought for her love. They were captivated, drawn like moths to a flame. Even the old dwarf king, Radius Nukong, ruler of a distant land, fell under her spell. He promised her anything her heart desired, anything in this world, for her hand in marriage."

Nyota paused, her sharp claws clenching into fists. "Seraphina, with her cunning, asked for something impossible. She demanded all five of the Love God's relics as her bridal gift. The king, blinded by his love for her, agreed and placed a bounty of twenty million platinum plates on each relic. In just five years, they were found, one by one, and presented to her. It was said that on their wedding night, as the kingdom celebrated, the old king was eager to consummate the marriage. But Seraphina had other plans. She drove a blade into his heart, singing a lullaby as he bled out in her arms. She was mad, Kintu, completely and utterly insane."

The cold, stone walls of the dungeon seemed to close in as Nyota spoke, her voice echoing with the weight of her tale. Kintu could almost see the scene play out before him: the king's lifeless body, the twisted smile on Seraphina's face, the horrified guards bursting into the bedchamber.

"With the king dead," Nyota continued, "Seraphina declared herself the new queen. She used the power of the Heart's Staff, one of the Love God's relics, to take control of the entire country. She brainwashed them, all of them, into a blissful state of love and obedience. Now, the people of Amara' Kal work in the platinum mines until they die, and they do it with smiles on their faces, unable to feel anything else. This place… it is hell."

Kintu felt a chill run down his spine. This was no ordinary tale of power and greed; it was a nightmare brought to life. Nyota's eyes met his, her gaze unwavering. "For some reason, the relics' power does not affect me. Because of this, my own family shunned me, labeled me a heretic, and offered me up as a sacrifice to the very cult that has enslaved them. They see me as a threat to their twisted utopia, and for that, I must die."

She took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. "Seraphina, mad with power, once attempted to use all five relics at once, but the Love God, Hathornia, rejected her. Called her soul filthy, an abomination. It was the first time Hathornia had ever rejected someone. Enraged, Seraphina vowed to find a way back into the Love God's good graces. She built an entire cult around Hathornia, a façade of worship and devotion, but deep down, she hates her. To ensure that no one else could ever communicate with the Love God, she locked away two of the relics in the royal vault, cutting Hathornia off from the mortal realm."

Nyota's eyes blazed with determination as she leaned closer to Kintu. "I will not run this time. I will steal those two relics and use them to get your three relics back from my aunt, Seraphina Eversong. She calls herself the Priestess of Love, but I call her the Witch of Hate."

The name hung in the air, heavy with the promise of vengeance. Kintu nodded, understanding that Nyota was not just seeking to reclaim her homeland but to avenge the countless lives destroyed by the twisted love cult. Together, they would face the darkness that had consumed Amara' Kal and bring an end to Seraphina's reign of terror.

Kintu shook his head, pushing away the lingering fog of unconsciousness. "We're getting out of here," he said with a confidence that belied their dire circumstances. He tugged at the chains binding his wrists, the metal cold against his skin, but they were destructible. With a surge of strength, he broke free, quickly releasing the panther woman as well.

They moved through the dark corridors of the dungeon, guided by a mix of instinct and desperation, until they stumbled upon a hidden treasure room. The room was filled with gold, jewels, and relics—each more valuable than the last. Kintu's eyes narrowed as he spotted two relics that stood out: a fan, delicately crafted with intricate patterns, and a comb that shimmered with an unnatural golden hue.

Kintu shook his head, pushing away the lingering fog of unconsciousness. "We're getting out of here," he declared with a steely resolve. His wrists were bound by heavy, cold chains, but his determination was unwavering. With a powerful surge, he broke free from the restraints, the chains snapping with a sharp metallic clink. He quickly turned to the panther woman, freeing her from her own bonds with swift precision.

As Kintu straightened, he spoke to the system. "You still with me?" he asked, his voice steady despite the urgency of their situation.

"Yes, I'm still here," the system responded, its voice calm and reassuring. "Congratulations on your quick thinking back there. I had to store your real relics in your storage for protection, though. While I would not of recommend giving up three relics for a life it worked in our favor, I can feel it our next relic is nearby."

Kintu summoned the Magma Scythe and the Necklace of Rebirth from his storage. The scythe's fiery blade crackled with intense heat as he brandished it with purpose. "Time to go," he said to Nyota, his gaze resolute. "We are not dying here today. Let us go reclaim your land."

The guards, alerted by the commotion, came rushing toward their location. Kintu met them head-on, wielding the Magma Scythe with deadly efficiency. Each swing of the scythe cleaved through the guards with ease, leaving a trail of lifeless bodies and a lingering odor of burnt flesh in his wake.

Navigating the labyrinthine hallways, Nyota's instinct and desperation guided them until they reached the cult's treasure room. Kintu approached the cold steel vault door, his eyes focused and determined. With a powerful sweep of the Magma Scythe, he sliced through the door, revealing the opulent interior.

The room was a dazzling spectacle of wealth—platinum plates, sparkling jewels, and an array of weapons that gleamed in the dim light. Kintu's gaze was drawn to two relics that stood out among the treasures. Each was placed on a separate pedestal: a golden fan, adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to dance in the flickering light, and a golden comb that shimmered with an almost ethereal glow.

"These are the hidden love relics," Nyota murmured, her voice filled with awe and recognition. "The fan controls the wind, and the comb… it can create golden hair to bind enemies."

"Hold out your right hand," Kintu instructed, his voice steady. "Absorb them."

Nyota complied, extending her hand toward the relics. As they absorbed into her, a prism of colors enveloped her, a radiant display of power and transformation.

The system's voice cut through the momentary stillness. "The room has been scanned. There is another relic in the chest in the corner of the room.

Kintu turned to the chest, his senses alert. The energy emanating from it was chilling, sending a shiver down his spine. He approached cautiously, lifting the lid to reveal a pair of chains. Each link gleamed with a frosty sheen, exuding an almost palpable coldness.

"This must be it, why do they have them." Kintu said, his voice low and determined. He reached out to touch the chains, his hands instantly numbed by the biting cold. The chains radiated a powerful, dark energy, but Kintu knew their significance. With a decisive motion, he used the Magma Scythe to slash through the protective wards that encased the relics, the searing heat melting away the barriers.

The system chimed in with an update. "New relic located: Ethereal Chains of the Bound Soul. These powerful relics have dual usage. When used in battle, the chains can bind an enemy, freezing them to their very soul, rendering them immobile. Additionally, when activated under certain conditions, the chains can integrate with the Staff of Reaping, unlocking the Call of the Void Scythe, which enables a freezing attack."

Kintu carefully absorbed the chains alongside his other relics. Suddenly, a figure stepped inside. The woman was stunningly beautiful, her face a perfect mask of indifference, her eyes cold as the heart of winter. Kintu recognized her immediately—this must be the leader of the cult, the one who held sway over life and death with her cruel whims.

"So, you're the one they call the Witch of Hate, names Kintu I'll be taking this country over today." Kintu said, a smirk playing on his lips as he faced her.

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by the nickname. "And you are the foolish relic user who thought he could stand against the Love Goddess's will and the Demon of Fire," she replied, her voice smooth as silk but laced with venom. In her hand, she held the Staff of Love, a relic that shimmered with an eerie, rose-colored light.

The panther woman tensed beside Kintu, recognizing the danger they were in. "Be careful," she warned. "That staff can brainwash anyone into falling in love with her."

But Kintu was not worried. He could feel the power of his other new skill, Status Effects Resistance, coursing through him. The staff's influence would not work on him, and he was ready to prove it.

The Witch of Hate wasted no time, aiming the staff at Kintu and unleashing a wave of pink energy. It washed over him, but to her shock, it had no effect. Kintu grinned, his eyes glinting with determination.

"Nice try," he said, before activating the chains. They shot forward, wrapping around the woman with a speed and precision that took her by surprise. The cold of the chains seeped into her, freezing her to the core as Kintu's power took hold.

"You're not as invincible as you think," Kintu muttered, tightening his grip on the chains. The Witch of Hate struggled, but it was too late—her body was slowly encased in ice, her movements slowing to a halt as the void claimed her soul.

With a swift motion, Kintu summoned his scythe, the blade glowing with a crimson, deadly energy. He brought it down with all his might, shattering the frozen witch into a million pieces. The shards of ice glittered in the dim light of the treasure room before melting away, leaving nothing behind but a cold, empty silence.

Kintu turned to the panther woman, who watched him with a mix of awe and gratitude. "We must go to the throne room that's where your other relics are," she said, her voice steady despite the ordeal they had just survived. "Vivienne will be there. I will handle her myself."

Kintu nodded, knowing she had her own battle to fight. "Be careful," he said, before exiting the throne room.

He pushed open the grand rose doors of the throne room and stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room for the woman who had taken his relics. The throne room was exactly as Kintu had imagined—a gaudy display of wealth and power, rose colored tapestry and rose-colored rugs somehow it felt even more hollow than he imagined.

Vivienne stood at the far end, her blonde hair shimmering under the soft light of the room's chandeliers. She looked over at Kintu with a bored expression, twirling the Scissors of Love in her hand.

"You're back," she said with a lazy smile. "Looking for your fire relics? I have hidden them somewhere safe. But honestly, I have no idea where they are now."

Kintu clenched his fists tightly around his scythe, but before he could respond, Nyota stepped forward, her eyes locked on Vivienne. "This is between us," she said, her voice firm and resolute. "We're cousins, after all."

Vivienne's smile did not falter as she saw Nyota step into the room, her eyes filled with a mix of pity and condescension. "Come for revenge, have we, cousin?" she taunted, her voice dripping with mockery. Before Vivienne could react further, Nyota moved with lethal precision. With a swift flick of her wrist, she activated the golden fan, sending a gust of wind that hurled Vivienne violently against the wall. The impact reverberated through the room, and the relic user crumpled to the floor, dazed.

Without missing a beat, Nyota reached for the golden comb, her movements fluid and purposeful. The comb's golden strands snaked through the air, wrapping around Vivienne's throat with unerring accuracy. The rich, metallic hue of the comb contrasted sharply with the pale skin of Vivienne's neck, constricting, and choking off her air supply. Nyota dragged her captive by the comb's strands, pulling her around the room with grim determination. Vivienne's struggles grew frantic, but her strength was no match for Nyota's resolve. Finally, Nyota lifted her by the neck, suspending her from a banister that overlooked the room below.

Vivienne gasped for breath; her eyes wide with desperation. "Why wouldn't you let us love you?" she managed to choke out, her voice barely audible over the struggle.

Nyota's eyes were cold, her expression hardening with resolve. Her grip on the comb tightened, the golden strands digging into Vivienne's skin. "Because love is the weakest emotion," Nyota declared, her voice devoid of sympathy. "I prefer hate."

With a sudden twist of her wrist, Nyota snapped the comb with a decisive motion, a sickening crack echoing through the room. Vivienne's head jerked violently, and her body went limp, the light fading from her eyes. Nyota let her fall to the floor, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the adrenaline of the confrontation began to end.

As Nyota stood amidst the aftermath, a rainbow light began to swirl around her, the five relics she now possessed glowing with a vibrant, multi-colored energy. The relics—now fully hers—shimmered with an iridescent brilliance, their power transformed into something new and formidable. The ritual was complete, and Nyota Marjani had claimed her dominion over the love relics, their radiant light marking her as their new master.