Chapter 970: Mo De Re De

“I think Miss Nibelungen has no issues—she truly won by her own strength, without cheating.”

Dorothy ultimately manipulated the puppet dragon doll and declared in the name of the Forest Witch:

That was indeed a plain truth.

After all, no matter how Nibelungen obtained that dragon mountain city emerging from the mist, the fact that she could summon it and harness its power meant it was already her own strength—nothing to argue about.

Although Dorothy always suspected that Miss Nibelungen might have targeted her, she wouldn’t lie just because of that; since there was no cheating, she had to clear her name.

The Forest Witch’s reputation was indeed effective—upon hearing her words, both the other judges and the previously rowdy audience fell silent, yet they still stared at her, as if waiting for further explanation.

The Home Witch glanced helplessly at Lancelot; this explanation should have been the head judge’s duty, but now it had been dumped on her.

Still, she didn’t refuse. She briefly thought it over, then spoke.

“Miss Nibelungen employs a special magic based on the Sensitivity attribute—only those with a unique Sensitivity talent can perceive it, apart from her target. That’s why no one saw her move. But this isn’t Nibelungen putting on airs; her power is simply extraordinary. Merely seeing it might cause harm—even the arena’s magical array cannot block it. So not letting you see it is also a form of protection.”

Although Dorothy didn’t know how the Dragon Mountain City became a land of the dead, it clearly possessed certain traits of the Underworld system.

First: unknowability.

The Underworld is unknowable. Resurrection in the Witch World isn’t rare, but witches who return from death forget all memories of the Underworld—they only know they’ve been there, yet cannot recall its appearance or retain any memories from within. Those memories remain locked until they die again and return to the Underworld.

This rule was established by the Divine King using the power of Fate, making it immensely powerful—even ordinary sages might not withstand it.

To exempt oneself from this rule, one must either, like Dorothy, obtain special status within the Underworld, or, like Sophilia, be Fate’s own daughter, born with a Jade-tier Fate Magic Eye, or possess the strength of a High Sage.

But clearly, none of these three conditions are attainable by ordinary people. Thus, even those defeated by Nibelungen would never remember what they saw—the Underworld’s power would erase those memories at the level of Fate itself, only restoring them upon their next death and return to the Underworld.

Second: the Dragon Mountain City awakens fear of death within people.

The Underworld represents death; gazing upon it is equivalent to staring directly at death.

How many living beings are truly fearless of death? Even powerful witches fear death—even though they know they can be resurrected, few can truly face death without dread.

After all, even setting aside the terror of death itself, the mere unknowability of the Underworld is enough to awaken witches’ fear of the unknown.

The fusion of these two fears breeds even greater terror.

In fact, the most popular horror genre on the Magic Web remains tales of the afterlife tied to the Underworld—precisely because of its unknowability, countless imaginative depictions of the Underworld have emerged.

Those horror films often portray the Underworld as dark and horrifying, describing bizarre and evil punishments within.

Dorothy once loved watching such horror films, but now that she knows the true appearance of the Underworld, she can no longer bear to watch them.

Oh, speaking of which, Alice wouldn’t be terrified or collapse upon seeing the Dragon Mountain City—after all, for the little witch, dying is just like going home; she lacks true reverence for death.

And these two traits above don’t cause real harm—they merely frighten people, and the memories fade afterward.

But the third trait is different.

That is: the Underworld possesses a certain death-inducing quality.

According to Dorothy’s observations, the shadow of the Dragon Mountain City summoned by Nibelungen doesn’t instantly kill like her own Door of the Underworld, which can obliterate any witch on sight—but as a land of the dead, the shadow still carries potent death-inducing power.

Anyone who witnesses the shadow of Dragon Mountain City is corroded and tempted by its overwhelming law of death, and thus voluntarily rushes toward death.

Normally, this death-inducing effect can be resisted—but combined with the previously mentioned fear-inducing trait, it creates a chain reaction: a person already terrified beyond reason, when further tempted by death, may easily succumb to suicide in a moment of panic.

Even though it seems contradictory—just terrified of death, then immediately rushing toward it—it’s absurd, yet human nature always harbors a certain self-destructive impulse.

For example, some people, upon seeing a sharp blade and looking at their own hands, feel an urge to touch the edge; similarly, when standing atop a tall building or cliff and gazing down, though terrified, they suddenly imagine what it would be like to jump.

This is the temptation of death.

In short, it’s much like Stockholm Syndrome—sometimes people grow fond of danger, the more thrilling and perilous, the more they crave it.

If all spectators were allowed to gaze directly at the shadow of the Dragon Mountain City, who knows how many would commit suicide today—in the arena or among viewers on the Magic Web.

After all, all these traits trigger merely by seeing them; this is indeed a unique ability that ordinary arena defenses cannot prevent.

Seeing that the audience still seemed confused, Dorothy thought for a moment, then made the puppet dragon doll stand up.

“Words alone might be hard to grasp, but I can’t reveal Miss Nibelungen’s magic—it’s her secret. So let me use a small trick as an analogy.”

The adorable puppet dragon doll performed a dressing motion, then turned in a circle to show off her attire, and asked:

“I just put on a dress only true Witch Fans can see. What do you think?”

She mainly intended to demonstrate that magic visible only to those with special Sensitivity truly existed.

The dress was real too—the puppet dragon wore a toy battle robe modeled after Fan’s tentacle mimicry, since no one understood such magic better than her senior.

Of course, Dorothy eagerly watched the audience’s reactions, hoping someone would stand up and say she wasn’t wearing anything at all.

Come on, show yourselves, Forest Witch’s little haters.

“Hehehe, Witch Lady is so cute.”

“Wow, seeing this alone made my ticket worth it.”

“Senbao, we love you forever.”

These were the words of true fans who saw the dress—their eyes burned hotly, and Dorothy felt deeply insecure.

Wait, didn’t she set the Witch Fan standard equal to that of a devout church member? Ordinary fans shouldn’t qualify—how could so many still see it?

Fortunately, Dorothy was pleased to see a small portion of the audience looked genuinely confused.

“Uh… why are you all excited? She’s not wearing anything.”

“Wait, you guys can actually see that dress?”

“Oh no, I really like the Forest Witch’s magic, but I’m not a stan—am I now a fake fan?”

“Uh… I just came out of seclusion—who’s the Forest Witch?”

Seeing this, the Home Witch sighed in relief.

Good, good—not everyone was a devout believer; there were still many mature, rational, steady witches.

But just as she felt relieved, someone in the audience suddenly screamed.

“Holy crap, it’s real! I wasn’t really into the Forest Witch, so I didn’t see any dress—but I just hypnotized myself, and now I’m a true Witch Fan—I can see the toy battle robe! Senbao, hehehe, you’re so cute.”

Dorothy immediately frowned and spotted the witch who screamed.

Tsk—it was someone she knew: Matild, the Eye Demon Witch who had recently lost to Inanna.

But is that how you’re supposed to use your hypnotic eye?

The Home Witch was speechless.

But what followed wasn’t just speechlessness—it was fury.

“Hmm, if just believing lets you see it, then I’ll believe too?”

“Lady Matild, hypnotize me too—I want to see what’s going on.”

“I was just a casual fan before, but I never expected the Forest Witch to give a live demonstration—watching a match and learning new knowledge? She’s amazing, I’m crying, I love her… wait, oh my god, just believing and the dress appeared!”

Things were taking a strange turn.

Dorothy glared darkly as a small group of casual fans rapidly transformed into devout believers.

She shot a fierce glare at the Eye Demon Witch, even beginning to suspect she herself had been hypnotized—had she forgotten this woman might be a paid shill hired by the Forest Witch?

This woman knew how to recruit fans.

Damn it, I’m noting this grudge down.

The Home Witch gritted her teeth inwardly.

She decided to say nothing more, lest she further reduce the already scarce number of casual fans.

Still, the doubts about Nibelungen had been resolved—the match continued.

But the subsequent matches were frankly dull—after one god-tier contestant entered, the others couldn’t compete.

Thus, the competition lasted until late night, and after fierce battles, the Youth Division finals quickly concluded.

Nibelungen won without doubt—she instantly obliterated everyone, even Spider Teacher or Inanna couldn’t withstand her Underworld power.

Second place went to the Tyrant Lady Inanna, who defeated Noerose, but even with her “Tyrannical Murderous Heart Spell” activated, she couldn’t resist Nibelungen’s Dragon Mountain City shadow.

After all, Underworld power isn’t mere mental attack—it can’t be negated simply by extreme rage.

Third place went to Spider Teacher Noerose.

But Dorothy immediately saw that her teacher was slacking—she hadn’t used her full strength against Inanna.

After all, the Spider Teacher in the arena was merely a puppet body, not her true form; her real power—the giant war fortresses—hadn’t appeared at all. A puppet master refusing to deploy her puppet horde and fighting Inanna one-on-one? That was ridiculous.

Still, the Home Witch didn’t expose her teacher’s laziness—after all, it wasn’t really her fault for being unserious; others fought with mana, but she fought with real gold and silver.

Other witches only needed to enjoy the fight—but puppet masters had to consider energy consumption, puppet wear and tear—all of it cost money.

Those giant war puppets weren’t meant for duels—they were high-consumption weapons of mass destruction. As they say, “When the cannon fires, ten thousand taels of gold vanish”—when Spider Teacher moved even one war fortress, the fuel cost alone would make her wince.

After all, arena rules only guarantee your own survival and that your key equipment won’t be destroyed; anything beyond that isn’t protected. Consumables used are gone for good, and the fuel for the mana furnace clearly fell into that category.

In a real battlefield, you could recover losses through spoils—or even profit—but in a duel, especially one where you won’t win first place, it’s utterly meaningless.

So she just slacked off.

Still, Dorothy thoroughly enjoyed the matches—she gained plenty of experience today, her Sensitivity stirred, and she could now create several new spells to earn big points.

When the match ended and the crowd dispersed, Long Ma suddenly spoke.

“Dorothy, if you’re free tomorrow, come home—your birthday gift from before never got a chance to be given.”

Euphilya said with a touch of melancholy.

Sigh—she’d planned to surprise her daughter, but who knew a Dragon King would show up halfway?

“There’s a gift? What is it?”

The Home Witch’s eyes lit up instantly.

Her father’s gift had already thrilled her—she wondered what her mother would give. Given Long Ma’s competitive nature, it was surely something great.

“Hmph, I won’t tell you. If you want to know, come home and pick it up.”

Euphilya snorted, ignoring her daughter’s sparkling gaze, and turned away.

Dorothy sighed helplessly and decided to go home tomorrow.

But why not go home tonight?

Sigh, I have to head back to Long Wang Palace; after all, it’s a place where you can come and go as you please.

Just as she was preparing to meet up with her sisters at the dueling arena’s entrance, she suddenly froze.

Just as when she arrived, the maid-dressed Guinevere was waiting at the entrance, but beside her, in addition to her little lover Lancelot, stood another familiar blonde, melancholic girl.

Nibelungen.

“Oh, so you’re lying in wait for me, huh? No more pretending?”

Dorothy, upon seeing this final weapon girl, was surprised—but not entirely. After all, she’d already suspected the girl had come for her, and now it was confirmed.

But the moment she stepped forward, Lancelot’s words left her stunned.

“Dorothy, thank you for helping this girl out today. Let me reintroduce her—her name is Modred, daughter of Arthur and Morgan. Nibelungen is actually the name of the city sealed within her.”

Dorothy: “........”

...The Home Witch is bewildered...