Chapter 0021: Walking Right Into the Trap

Matted, filthy hair, jet-black, razor-sharp claws, and terrifying, jagged fangs—though incomplete, yet wickedly keen—these were the most typical features of a Marsh Hag. On land, their combat prowess might not even match that of a ghoul, but within the mire, their strength would double at once, making them rivals to the monstrous swamp crocodiles. Among the ancient tribes of Marsh Hags, there might even emerge a leader who had mastered elemental powers—creatures of intelligence to rival a wizard’s apprentice. If human wizards were willing to grant such beings any status, it would not be impossible for one or two Marsh Hag Sorceresses to arise.

Alas, in this world ruled by human wizards, the evolution and advancement of all other creatures had been harshly suppressed. No matter how clever or intelligent, every Marsh Hag was but an experimental subject and a precious material for the wizards—creatures to be slaughtered at will.

Today, the peace of the Marsh Hag’s domain was shattered by two intruders.

A man and a woman entered the swamp, one ahead, one pursuing.

The man was clearly an apprentice from the Marsh Tower—his short, distinctive apprentice robe and the magical fluctuations of a high tower talisman marked him out unmistakably. Usually a lackey for the wizards, today he had become the unfortunate quarry, fleeing for his life. Relying on the support of the wind element, he dashed through the mire, half running, half wading, shouting brazenly as he went.

“Simba, you pathetic worm hiding in the mud… Get out here, now… Simba! You’re nothing but a snot-nosed slug… a pile of slime…”

It could be said that the entire muddy swamp had been thrown into chaos by this detestable fellow, leading his pursuer on a wild chase.

Ordinary Marsh Hags lacked such keen eyesight. Sensing the approach of outsiders, they hauled themselves up out of the muck, half their bodies emerging above the foul, stagnant water, reaching to snatch Grim as he flitted past, hoping to drag him under.

Thus, in Grim’s wake, arms rose from the mire like thickets of bramble, clawing and waving. One by one the Marsh Hags were lured from their lairs, staggering angrily after him.

But Grim’s target was not these simple-minded wretches. However many of them he drew out, they could never threaten the terrifying little girl behind him. In this whole swamp, the only one Alice might hesitate to face was… Simba.

Floating twenty meters above the ground by sheer force of talent, Alice watched the rolling waves of mud and the filthy water spraying in all directions, her face growing ever darker with rage.

“You down there—listen up! Stop running! If you obediently lead me to the Marsh Tower, I promise not to harm a single hair on your head!”

Grim shouted back without so much as a glance.

“Yeah, right! You won’t harm a hair—you’ll just cut me into pieces! Save your childish tricks—I’m not buying it… Catch me first if you can!”

With that, he began bellowing, “Simba! Simba!” at the top of his lungs once more.

“You’re courting death… You little bastard, don’t let me catch you! If you fall into my hands…”

“What will you do, huh? Steam me? Braise me? Or just gobble me up raw? You witches are all monsters… Yesterday I was trampled by that she-devil Mary, and today I’m hunted by you, the eternal little brat. My luck is—”

Grim’s tirade was cut short as he suddenly felt his legs seized tight. A vine-like whip snaked up from the water, binding his legs and breaking his airborne momentum. He plunged headlong into the reeking swamp.