Seven — a number deeply entwined with magic.
Today marked the seventh day since Hel had crossed into this world, and also the seventh day since she consumed the Elemental Crystal of the Wraith.
For days now, Hel had been waking up with the strange feeling that something was off about her body.
At first, she thought it was just her new body instinctively rejecting her — an aftereffect of transmigration.
But today, she finally understood the true reason behind that unsettling feeling.
It was all because of that damned Witch modifier.
That damned Faceless One! She should've known — all three of those transmigration choices had been traps!
He said it wouldn't make her a countess — yet here she was, hit with something even worse.
At that moment, every last shred of hope in Hel's heart evaporated.
Indeed, to gain a power that wasn't yours… you were bound to pay a terrible price.
Hel looked down at her now empty lower half — and fell completely into despair.
What kind of joke is this?! she thought bitterly.
My dear brother — gone?! Just like that?!
What's the point of living now?!
For a moment, Hel even considered ending it all — maybe death could strip away this cursed modifier.
But then again… what if dying really meant dying?
Better to live miserably than not at all — she wasn't ready to devolve into some mindless amoeba.
Still, it meant saying a final goodbye to a once vital part of herself.
And with that realization, Herr truly lost all motivation to live.
She locked herself in her room the entire day, doing nothing — thinking nothing.
Just lying on her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.
By evening, she drifted into sleep without realizing it.
When she opened her eyes again, she found herself in a strange new realm.
It was a vast platform floating in an endless starry sky.
At its center stood a round marble table of pure white, surrounded by twenty-two thrones of the same material.
Yet only three of those seats were occupied.
One of the seated women had silver-white hair, wore a plain white robe, and a halo-like wheel of light shimmered behind her — like some serene saintess from a holy order.
Another woman wore a black gothic leather dress trimmed with red markings, her long fiery red hair cascading freely down her shoulders.
She twirled a whip in her hands, exuding the aura of a dangerous, seductive dominatrix.
The third was a cheerful young girl in a short deep-blue dress speckled with starlike patterns.
Her golden twin-tails bounced as she looked around, energy radiating from her every movement.
"Welcome, Witch of Death," said the elegant woman in white, her eyes opening slowly to reveal irises that seemed to contain flowing galaxies.
"This is the Court of Witches. I am its host — the Witch of Fate. You may call me Fate."
"I'm the Witch of Stars," said the bright-eyed girl next to her, gazing at Hel with innocent curiosity.
"You can call me Star — or Little Star, if you want! I like that better!" she added with a playful wink.
The red-haired woman laughed lowly, her voice dripping with allure.
"I am the Witch of Desire, ruler of love and passion. My tarot card is The Lovers.
If you ever crave a sweet, intoxicating romance, you can come to me, little one.
You may call me Lover... or better yet—" she licked her lips teasingly, her tone husky—
"Big Sister."
"Enough, Desire," Fate said gently but firmly. "Don't frighten our newcomer."
Then she turned to Hel with a soft smile.
"Every newcomer's true appearance is hidden here.
What we see before us is only a silhouette.
To make communication easier, you may create your own appearance — simply imagine it in your mind.
Though, I would advise against using your real-world face.
After all, witches don't have the best reputation out there."
Hel nodded, following Fate's instructions and imagining a new form.
A few moments later, a petite silver-haired, red-eyed girl appeared in her seat.
The image was based on one of the vampire subordinates she remembered from the Wraith's army —but to her surprise, instead of a graceful young woman, the image manifested as a tiny, doll-like loli.
"Oh ho~! A loli! That's a rare one," Desire purred with amusement.
"Waaah, she's so cute!" Star squealed, eyes sparkling.
Fate's expression softened — she seemed intrigued — but said nothing, steering the conversation forward instead.
"As a witch, since you've accepted the invitation to this court, I take it you're not one of those brainwashed fools who serve the Church.
Witches are not inherently evil, nor are we truly possessed by demons.
You must have felt it yourself — this power isn't corruption, it's… awakening.
We are simply those who have awakened to divine power, persecuted by the Church for what we are."
Hel nodded slightly.
She didn't fully believe Fate's words, but they did make sense.
Now that she herself had become a witch, her sympathies naturally leaned toward their side.
"This special power we wield," Fate continued, "originates from the gods themselves.
Whenever a god falls, fragments of their divine essence scatter across the world.
Those who absorb them become witches — the lucky ones who inherit divinity.
Each witch carries within her the chance to reclaim godhood.
If she fulfills the mission tied to her divine aspect, she may transcend mortality and ascend once more.
In other words, every witch is a walking, breathing shard of divinity."
Hel nodded absently.
She already knew that the witches' power came from divine fragments — godhood itself.
But to the others, she probably looked like a clueless child pretending to understand —
a small, dazed figure that just screamed "adorably squishable."
"Fate-sis," Star interjected, waving her hands, "Little Death here's just a kid — she won't get all that complicated stuff!"
Fate chuckled softly.
"No, it's fine. Please continue."
"Oh? So composed," Fate said approvingly. "It seems our new sister comes from an extraordinary background."
Then she went on.
"In this world, there exist 8 Supreme Gods, 16 High Gods, and 32 True Gods.
Of these, 22 have fallen — corresponding exactly to the 22 witches of this court.
My own divine mission is to guide these 22 witches — the True Seats —
and help each one ascend to godhood once more.
The path of ascension is woven by Fate itself,
and though the journey may be long, everything unfolds according to destiny."
"Has any witch ever succeeded in becoming a god?" Hel asked quietly.
"Perhaps," Fate said with a serene smile. "Or perhaps not. Who can say?
The Court has existed for ages — so long that none remember its origins.
It's entirely possible that some witches did ascend long ago.
But as for our current generation…"
She paused.
"None have succeeded — yet."