[Mark of Enslaved Desire (Black)] A forbidden art created by the Witch of Enslavement, one of Desire's lineage, by fusing her Authority of Enslavement with Desire magic. A random desire within the target will surge violently. If the target succumbs to that desire, they will become the Witch of Enslavement's Desire Slave.
At the same time, the target will suffer psychic suggestion, causing them to ignore anything related to their own enslavement — a curse resistant to nearly all forms of dispelling. Only powers directly opposed to Enslavement — namely the Authority of Freedom or the Purification Authority of the Order lineage — can truly break it.
The entry's description flickered briefly across Hel's vision before vanishing, but it was enough — she had caught the scent of the one pulling the strings.
Far away in Heim City, Hel immediately opened her entry panel. Now that she knew both the enemy and the nature of their magic, the mental compulsion placed upon her had lost its effect.
Yet when she examined her list of black entries, she couldn't help but blink in surprise. She still had three black entries… but something didn't add up.
In her memory, she had indeed once possessed three black entries — but one of them, [Chronic Poisoning], had long since been removed. Under the Witch of Enslavement's charm, however, she'd been made to forget that fact entirely, even subconsciously skipping over the black entries whenever she checked them. The idea of simply taking them all off and inspecting them had never even occurred to her.
Now that the illusion was shattered, she finally saw what lay beneath.
It wasn't [Mark of Enslaved Desire] at all — but rather an incomplete version, labeled [Seed of Enslaved Desire].
Its effect was similar to the Mark, though far more intricate — because this was the precursor form of that forbidden mark.
Alongside the [Seed of Enslaved Desire] on Hel's body, there existed a paired entry on Nikki: [Mother of Enslavement].
According to their descriptions, [Mother of Enslavement] created a soul link, transmitting the [Seed of Enslaved Desire] to the target, while funneling the Mother's gathered Desire Energy into that seed.
Once the Mother perished, all that stored-up Desire Energy would be released in an instant, flooding the Seed and completely destroying the target's mind — reducing them to a perfect puppet.
It was, to put it mildly, broken.
To enslave another silently, and even if the victim realized it, they would soon forget again — until their will was entirely devoured. And to make things worse, only two beings in the Holy Lineage could counter it: those who wielded the Authority of Freedom or Authority of Purification. Anyone else struck by this curse would find it almost impossible to remove.
After all, aside from a handful of unique witches, most of their kind guarded their true identities with pathological secrecy. Who even knew whether the Witches of Freedom and Purification still existed in this world?
But Hel was different.
With a tap of her small hand, both [Seed of Enslaved Desire] on herself and [Mother of Enslavement] on Nikki were neatly extracted and removed.
She exhaled deeply, relief washing over her as she tucked both entries safely at the very bottom of her entry library.
"These degenerates of the Desire lineage really are twisted beyond belief…"
She couldn't help but sigh. If she weren't a "cheat player," she'd have died countless times already.
"Still, I have to hand it to them," she mused. "When it comes to domination, no one does it like the Desire Witches. They can casually turn a Saint-tier witch into a mindless puppet. If the Witch of Enslavement ever used that power to recruit the strong, she'd probably have conquered the entire continent by now."
Of course, there might be reasons why she hadn't — perhaps the forbidden art consumed too much power, or perhaps she was restricted by the Witch of Desire herself. After all, the Authority of Enslavement was a lesser branch of Desire. It was even possible that the Witch of Enslavement had already been subjugated by the Witch of Desire, reduced to nothing more than her velvet pet.
Hel thought quietly about it all, analyzing every possibility. If she were the Witch of Desire, she'd be wary of Enslavement too — even if she were immune to it, such a power would always make her uneasy.
"But why do I suddenly want her Authority so badly…?"
She frowned, rubbing her temple. The Witch of Enslavement's ability was simply too useful.
If she could somehow obtain it herself, she wouldn't care how much each Mark of Enslaved Desire cost to use. After all, she could just duplicate it through her Entry System!
A black-tier entry that cost a mere bit of energy, yet could enslave a Saint-tier witch? That was absurdly good value.
Still, she knew better. Given the value of the Witch of Enslavement's power, her position within the Church of Supremacy must be extraordinarily high — likely under the direct supervision and protection of the Witch of Desire herself.
Hel had no illusions. Facing a confirmed demigod-level witch, she couldn't possibly steal the Witch of Enslavement from under her nose. And considering that the Witch of Enslavement could subjugate Saints, she herself must at least be Saint-tier in strength.
Hel shook her head, suppressing the thought.
"Not now. One step at a time."
For now, her path was clear: capture the Beast Witch first.
At the Bloodstained Plains, on the border of the beastmen encampment—
A crimson moon hung in the sky, and beneath it rose enormous phantom crucifixes, each bearing bound, lifeless corpses. Even those unfamiliar with the mysteries of Saint-tier magic could feel the oppressive might emanating from this spectacle.
"You sure this is that old bastard Wolf Fang's doing?" muttered an elderly sixth-tier veteran, his weathered face tightening. "That aura's bigger than the last king's ascension to Saint-tier."
Indeed, the scale of the phenomenon blanketed their entire camp — it was too vast, too heavy. Could this really be the doing of some beastman general… or was it the awakening of a witch?
While the soldiers whispered in fear, a streak of pale blue light tore across the night sky.
Descending from the heavens came a girl with long cyan hair flowing to her waist, two pairs of fluffy beast ears, and a plumed wolf tail behind her. She was none other than Gale, the Witch of Hurricane — a canine witch born and raised within the Aira royal court.
Strapped to her back was a hexagonal black-wood coffin, its surface carved with intricate sealing sigils forming a powerful ward. And from within that coffin came the sound of fists pounding — steady, violent, alive.
Whoever was inside… was still fighting to get out.