When Happiness Begins, Sadness Starts the Countdown

Disaster struck.

Without any warning.

Without any signs.

In an instant, the once clear and blue sky was scorched by terrifying magical power.

It was a hellish scene. Crimson fire meteors appeared out of nowhere, numerous as an endless sea of blood, dyeing the entire sky in a despairing shade of deep red.

“Hiss— Hiss—”

The celestial fire hissed.

The ears heard, the eyes saw, the horrifying sight of a meteor shower falling from the sky.

Buildings were continuously reduced to ruins.

Countless people screamed in terror, begging for their lives in the face of death.

There was no time to think.

Before the witch could comprehend what was happening, her body had already sprung into action, like a moth drawn to a flame, charging towards the fireball that was closing in on the courtyard.

She swung her wand.

Cast a spell.

“Water Shield!!!”

It was all futile.

A feeble moth could never withstand the ferocity of a raging flame.

The water spell, cast with all her might and even drawing on the reserve magic in her wand, was effortlessly shattered by the meteor.

Krisha had failed.

Utterly and completely failed.

She could only watch helplessly as the meteor fell, powerless to do anything!

“Boom—”, a deafening roar shook the heavens.

The fire descending from the sky brought annihilation, the shockwave from the explosion instantly leveling everything. The courtyard, filled with countless cherished memories, was obliterated in a moment.

Even Krisha herself was flung far away by the blast.

She collided, tumbled, and finally came to a stop against a brick wall.

It hurt, it hurt so much.

The witch fell to the ground, her body overwhelmed by endless pain, every bone screaming in agony, every muscle torn and bleeding.

The struggle, the torment, left the 16-year-old witch gasping for breath.

But.

But…

But oh, but.

Compared to the pain in her chest, in her heart, the pain that tore at her sanity, the physical pain was nothing.

It was true despair, the kind that could shatter a person’s mind at the mere thought of it!

“Mentor…”

In the burning ruins of the brick wall, black smoke billowed, dust and debris flying everywhere.

The young witch staggered to her feet.

Her eyes were still empty, her face expressionless, yet somehow, one could sense a hint of urgency and panic in her.

She grabbed her wand, no longer pristine but now chipped and broken, and cast another spell.

“Windwalk.”

Her voice, calm yet trembling, rang out as the wind element once again enveloped Krisha, lifting her injured body with difficulty as she flew towards the direction of the courtyard explosion.

The earlier shockwave had flung Krisha far away.

So she had to make her way back.

The distance wasn’t long, very short in fact, but for the injured Krisha, it felt like an endless, insurmountable chasm.

Burning houses, collapsed ruins, and countless dead or injured ordinary people.

This was all the witch saw.

It was gruesome, horrifying.

She sped up, flying towards the courtyard.

Suddenly, her body was wracked with intense pain, interrupting the Windwalk spell.

She fell heavily from the air, tumbling several times on the ground, her clothes torn to shreds, her delicate skin covered in cuts and abrasions.

Her face, hands, legs… every wound looked ghastly.

Her bloody flesh was smeared with dirt and gravel.

But the witch paid no mind to it.

“Mentor, mentor, mentor…”

She muttered these words, her gaze pure, focused solely on the burning ruins in the distance, doing everything she could to get closer.

If magic couldn’t be used, then she’d walk.

If walking was impossible, then she’d crawl.

She must.

She must see him again.

With this belief, Krisha struggled to her feet once more, not bothering to look for her lost wand, and staggered towards the courtyard.

Her mind was solely focused on Xu Xi’s safety.

He must not be injured, must not die, must not suffer any harm.

Not even the slightest wound was acceptable.

The girl would never allow such a thing to happen.

Even someone like her, a discarded piece of trash, could still survive in this world, so how could that warm, sun-like person just die like that?

Ah…

Ahhh…!

Just the thought of it made her heart contract violently, sending waves of pain that made the girl tremble.

“Faster, even faster… it’s still not fast enough…”

Krisha quickened her pace.

The sudden acceleration caused her injured body to lose balance, and she tumbled to the ground.

But it didn’t matter, such things were irrelevant now.

Ignoring the intense pain in her leg from the fall, ignoring the cuts on her face from the gravel, ignoring her body that had begun to convulse involuntarily.

The witch pressed on.

She fell, got up, fell again, and got up again.

Finally, after navigating around a large collapsed building, she reached the courtyard she had been striving for.

It was no longer the serene, beautiful place it once was.

There were no lush flowers or trees.

And most importantly, there was no sign of the person she held dear in her heart.

All she saw was a burning ruin, devoid of any familiar memories, even the sturdiest meditation room had been reduced to rubble.

The flames raged, the smoke billowed high into the sky, and the hot wind that blew against her face was dry and scorching.

Silence.

There was nothing left.

Yes, nothing remained.

“Thud—”

As if all her strength had been drained in an instant.

Krisha suddenly stopped moving, her legs giving out as she knelt on the ground, staring blankly at the distant ruins. The flames flickered, casting a hot yet cold light on her face.

Her expression remained calm.

Because she was a witch who knew no joy or sorrow, who felt no emotions.

But deep within that beautiful, fragile shell, within that lonely, fearful soul, was there truly no emotion at all?

Krisha didn’t know.

Because the only person who could answer that, the only person who could give the witch courage, the sun that had warmed her, was no longer there.

Ah, why is this…

The young witch knelt there, her eyes even more hollow and lifeless, staring at the burning courtyard, trying to find an answer in the raging flames.

Why was she, a mere “possession,” still alive when her master was dead?

Why couldn’t she have been faster, stronger, to block that fireball?

Why couldn’t she have died in his place?

Why… why was this…

Without her master, the possession had no reason to exist; without the sun, the witch had no future; without that warm, comforting gaze, Krisha couldn’t take a single step forward.

Her life, her soul, only existed because of that person.

If that person was gone, even if the witch survived, her life would be meaningless.

“…”

The witch trembled as she reached out, placing a hand on her chest,

feeling the overwhelming pain that threatened to burst forth.

So this is it.

She too.

Could feel sorrow.