Chapter 50: The Value of a Witch

In the afternoon, Dorothy went out with Sophilia; the pleasant time of slacking off was over, and now she needed to handle some enrollment procedures.

Although she had already received the admission notice from the Witch Academy, that did not mean she could freely choose any school within the academy.

In fact, the academy would only assign her a default school to complete the mandatory 20-year basic education, and everyone knew the quality of such assigned schools—they were mostly obscure institutions ranked at the bottom, with almost no applicants.

Therefore, any witch with even a shred of ambition would refuse the academy’s assignment and choose her own desired school to apply for.

For instance, the entrance exam for the Brust College, which Dorothy intended to apply to, was scheduled in three days, so she needed to register at the admissions office first.

In addition to that, she also needed to obtain other minor permissions required to live within the Witch Academy, such as a flight permit and a controlled spellcasting permit.

For a large research-oriented witch domain like the Witch Academy, peaceful and stable public order was crucial; to minimize unnecessary trouble, the entire academy was enveloped by a massive anti-magic barrier.

Harmless daily-use spells were generally unrestricted, but special spells that could threaten the academy’s order were tightly controlled—without a dedicated casting permit, even an ordinary Grand Witch found it nearly impossible to cast them forcibly.

However, obtaining such a permit wasn’t difficult; any witch who applied would almost always be approved, since this was the Witch Academy, and students—especially those from the Armed Witch Academy—came here precisely to learn high-risk controlled magics.

That casting permit, however, was less a permission and more a surveillance tool: all spellcasting by permit holders was monitored and recorded, so if someone committed an offense, the academy could simply retrieve the casting logs and match the timing to identify the culprit.

Moreover, if someone was detected preparing to cast a high-tier area-of-effect spell in densely populated areas like market districts, their casting permit could be instantly frozen; under the barrier’s suppression, the offender would lose all spellcasting ability and be forced to surrender to the academy’s disciplinary enforcement squad.

Well, such large witch domains all employed similar control measures; thus, despite their bustling appearance, they felt far from free—and this was also why the central districts of witch domains were mostly inhabited by non-human races, while very few witches chose to live there.

Many witches accustomed to freedom couldn’t bear such constraints; they’d rather tether their floating islands to the academy’s suburban outskirts than reside within the domain under 24-hour surveillance.

After all, during work hours there was no choice, but after hours, everyone wanted something more relaxed.

Adults could enjoy relative freedom, but for witch students who hadn’t graduated and were still not regarded as independent witches by the witch world, there was no option—they had to endure this prison-like campus life.

Yet Dorothy had no complaints about such restrictions; she genuinely supported these strict rules, since no one wanted to be enjoying hotpot and singing at home only to be suddenly wiped out by some lunatic’s AoE spell.

In her view, if magic weren’t regulated, its lethality and destructive power far surpassed anything guns could do in her previous life; perhaps other students wished for more democracy, but she had zero desire to live in a “democratic” witch domain where nuclear explosions happened daily.

The entire Witch Academy was structured as a standard circular city, with their landmark building, the Shining Tower, at its center, radiating outward in concentric rings.

The innermost ring housed the core district: the Lord’s Mansion (Principal’s Office), the Academic Council Headquarters, the Student Union Headquarters, and other central departments.

Beyond the second ring were mostly schools and supporting commercial zones; the higher-ranked the college, the closer its location to the center—Dorothy’s chosen Brust College, one of the Top Ten Elite Academies, was situated in the second ring.

The procedures she needed to handle fell under the Student Union’s jurisdiction, so she could go directly there.

Conveniently, Sophilia, as Student Union President, was about to head to work anyway, so she simply brought this young lady along.

The Student Union was located in the first ring, not far from their residence at the central Shining Tower; since Dorothy hadn’t yet obtained her flight permit, they decided to walk.

As they walked, Dorothy curiously observed the surroundings.

As a witch domain, the Witch Academy naturally floated in the sky, not built upon the ground.

It was a vast metropolis composed of countless floating islands of varying sizes; nearly every college and facility was an independent island, connected and stabilized by ethereal magical chains, with magical walkways allowing passage between them.

Thus, strolling along these semi-transparent, illusory walkways and looking down, one could see through the misty clouds to the boundless land below; if one cast a Hawk-Eye spell or similar ocular technique, they could clearly see the non-human races laboring on the earth.

Looking upward, the eye met the splendor of the witch world: layers of floating islands hovering above the clouds formed a mythical paradise, where numerous witches glided gracefully overhead on brooms, all youthful, beautiful, and full of vitality. If you whistled from below, you might earn a few indignant glares from the witches above, who’d clutch their skirts and blush.

Of course, if you happened to encounter a temperamental one, you might get punched.

Dorothy’s gaze swept horizontally and noticed that most people walking alongside them were various non-human races.

In the witch world, rules were always lenient toward witches, fair toward close-blood humans, and harsh toward non-human races.

Thus, flight permits were easily granted to witches, and not too hard for human mages, but were significantly harder for these non-humans to obtain.

Dorothy saw many winged humanoids forced to keep their wings folded and walk on the ground, unable to fly freely.

She also saw numerous non-human Qiangzhe whose aura rivaled that of ordinary witches, yet they too walked obediently, occasionally looking up with envy at the tiny witches above them, who were weaker yet enjoyed the joy of flight.

Upon seeing these two witches approach, the non-human races quickly stepped aside, bowed their heads, and dared not glance around, fearing they might accidentally offend a witch.

After all, in this witch city, these non-human races were not considered “people”; in terms of status, they were no different from the grass on the roadside.

Although signs read “Please Protect the Lawn, Do Not Step On,” stepping on it was still fine—worst case, you’d just pay a fine.

Elder non-humans who had lived in the witch world for years knew not to casually test a witch’s mood on any given day, for no one knew what consequences might follow.

Do not presume to guess the will of the gods; mortals need only bow before them.

Yet...

Plop...

As Dorothy, marveling at the fantastical scenery around her, suddenly felt something collide with her, she looked down and saw a small rabbit-eared beast girl sitting on the ground, her large, watery red eyes filled with tears as she stared at ice cream scattered everywhere.

She looked at her new school uniform.

Well, it was now ice cream-flavored.

Even Sophilia, who had been walking close beside her, wasn’t spared—her pure white shoe tip bore a chocolate stain.

In that instant, the air fell silent; the once-busy walkway emptied rapidly—those ahead quickened their pace, those behind turned around and fled.

Everyone retreated, leaving only the crying rabbit-eared girl still on the ground staring at her ice cream, and the mature, alluring rabbit-eared woman who had emerged now that the crowd had dispersed.

And this woman was, in fact, the strongest non-human powerhouse Dorothy had sensed moments earlier.

Yet now, the rabbit-eared woman’s eyes were filled with tears; her exquisite, alluring face wore an expression of utter panic, as if the world had collapsed, and she couldn’t even stand, collapsing onto the ground.

From her similarly snowy fur, the mature rabbit-eared woman was clearly the little girl’s close relative.

But finally, summoning all her courage, she rushed forward, embracing the bewildered little girl and shielding her behind her, then slowly knelt prostrate at Dorothy’s feet.

“Witch Lady, please forgive my sister’s disrespect. It is my fault for failing to supervise her properly—she has offended you. Any punishment I am willing to accept.”

Dorothy: “........”

She looked at this rabbit-eared woman, whose magical aura was several times stronger than her own—someone who could easily crush a dozen of her, a ten-thousand-magic-level witch—and yet she knelt so low. For the first time in her life, Dorothy truly understood the immense status of witches in this world.

Hmph, this was higher status than Heavenly Dragons—but why so terrified? Surely no one would hurt a child over such a minor incident... right?

Dorothy had thought so in her mind.

But as she looked at the rabbit-eared woman’s trembling body before her, she suddenly felt less certain.

Her innate, powerful perception clearly sensed the rabbit-eared woman’s strength—she was a beastkin warrior, and at barely twenty, she was already nearing the power of a Legendary Warrior (equivalent to an ordinary witch). She was undoubtedly a beastkin genius; such talent was exceptional even among witches.

Geniuses are proud; someone like this wouldn’t kneel so easily, especially a beastkin warrior—a class that values willpower above all. Legendary beastkin warriors dared to raise their blades against dragons—utterly reckless.

So the question arose: what had my fellow witches done in the past to make even a beastkin warrior, famed for their boldness, tremble in fear before a witch she could crush with one hand, without daring to resist?

Dorothy’s limited imagination simply couldn’t conceive it.

She recalled her father Adam’s description of witches on the battlefield.

Killing machines? More heartless than angels? More brutal than dragons? More lustful than demons?

Oh god... what strange race have I been reborn into?

The homebound, backwater-raised witch, stepping out from her humble 18-line retirement town, now for the first time truly grasped the immense value of the word “witch.”

Is this the dignity of the foremost calamity race?

And on the ground, the previously clueless little girl now stared in confusion at her kneeling sister; after blinking a few times, she suddenly realized she had done something terrible—but being so young, she didn’t know what to do, and could only cry.

Amid the girl’s sobs, Dorothy thought of her once-seemingly-not-too-difficult dream...

In that moment, she finally understood why her mother Euphelia had so strongly opposed it, and why her mother’s phrase “persuade with reason” was correct.

The path to realizing her dream seemed far harder than she had ever imagined.