The Witch Awakens on Werewolf Night

The Sacrificial Witch

She now feels as though she's been cursed.

Magic isn't without cost, and weaker witches gain the inspiration to cast spells through sacrifices made to the goddess. The first magic Dill encountered was a replication of the Greek witch Medea's rejuvenation of an old ram—a ritual symbolizing renewal and the endless cycle of life. The witches would dismember an old mountain goat and throw it into a cauldron, using its flesh and blood to bring back to life a young lamb. It was a rite of passage every young witch had to undergo.

While other witches quickly ended up with lively, bouncing lambs, Dill, stirring with a big spoon, was drenched in sweat without any sign of life emerging from the steaming cauldron. Instead, the stirring only brought out a tempting aroma that made everyone's mouth water.

Eventually, as the other witches scrambled for the goat meat stew, a disheartened Dill doubted her magical abilities. Yet, it was soon proven that she had nothing to worry about; she had everything necessary, just misplaced her skill points.

When it came to essential witch items like flying ointment, other witches were frolicking under the moonlight and plucking bird eggs from trees, while Dill was on the ground, trying to catch the fleeing ointment with a net—turning into soft, fluffy cotton candy. One witch caught a mouthful, tasted it, and found it sweet and delicious.

Had it not been for a perceptive high witch discovering that the cotton candy had the power to make the body float, qualifying as a barely passable flying potion, Dill might have been deemed disfavored by the goddess and lost her status as a witch apprentice.

Then, there was the task of making simple magical tools, where witches had to concoct potions to transform cotton clothes into expensive silk. As for Dill... it's better left unsaid. The overseeing high witch declared it the tastiest sugar silk dress she had ever eaten.

So far, Dill's most successful spell was turning a cup of water into wine, the fragrance of which was so intoxicating that it nearly prompted a group of wine-loving high witches to start an impromptu feast, creating quite a chaotic scene.

She once thought she was Harry Potter, only to realize she might actually be a reincarnation of Jesus.

However, Amber and the other high witches didn't see it that way. They suspected Dill was cursed, trying various strange potions and spells on her, nearly turning the girl into pickles.

They finally arrived at a barely acceptable conclusion: Dill wasn't cursed but was blessed with a fitting name that highly resonated with one of the many divine offices of the Moon Goddess—the deity of abundance.

The power of a witch comes from the goddess's authority, with different authorities providing different magical powers. To put it more pleasantly, Dill was highly favored by the goddess, given an overabundance of blessings, which is why her magic didn't manifest normally.

Thus, before Dill could become a great witch, she first became the witches' chief cook. Every time she started brewing, a group of witches would watch eagerly, and a young witch even improvised a little song: When Dill fails, it's time to dine.

At times like these, Dill would start missing chili peppers, a treasure from her past life.

In her previous life, as a citizen of a food-loving country, such a pair of hands was as good as turning stones into gold. Wherever she went, she never worried about food or clothing, not even fearing starvation if lost in the desert—truly a traveler's golden touch. Only the lack of Eastern spices and hometown ingredients kept her from opening an otherworldly Chinese restaurant, perhaps embarking on a light novel-esque grand adventure.

But after understanding the settings of this world, Dill could no longer maintain such naive thoughts.

"Is that today's soup base?"

A girl popped her head out the window, her hair adorned with golden braids, excitedly pointing at the medicine basket on the ground.

A large white egg lay there, carefully wrapped in lace-edged soft cloth, looking particularly oval and sweet. Paired with a bubbling cauldron of boiling water, anyone could be mistaken.

Slamming the window shut, Dill hurried forward to wrap her precious egg in an apron. All her hopes rested on this egg, which she couldn't allow these heartless gluttons to covet.

This time, she would not fail!

The witches outside, wary of the powerful Amber, dared only peek through the gaps around the doors and windows.

Recently, every young witch had successfully bonded with a familiar in the Moonlight Forest, from a variety of wild cats and rare white deer to clever squirrels. Each witch, following the guidance of the Moon Goddess, found a familiar that resonated with them. And Dill, also following the moonlight's guidance, found... an egg.

A group of witches, having tasted the sweetness of success, began to fantasize that the Moon Goddess intended to nourish their hardworking and devout selves. They concocted all sorts of schemes, all aimed at persuading Dill to cook what appeared to be a delicious egg.

Dill, of course, had no intention of boiling the egg. In fact, when she obtained it, she placed all her long-lost ambitions into it, waiting for the day it would hatch.

This was an egg, after all!

Having been fortunate enough to be a descendant of dragons in two lifetimes, Dill's mind was filled with legends from her homeland about various mythical beasts. Dragons lay eggs, and so do phoenixes. An egg contained infinite possibilities, even if a metal-eating beast emerged from it. As long as it was tinged with Eastern elements and a transmigration setting, everything would make perfect sense.

Ignoring the pitying looks from others, Dill held onto a mysterious confidence, envisioning herself riding a grand black and white creature, roaming the world freely.

Therefore, to protect her beloved big white egg among a pack of wolves, Dill carried the egg with her at all times, whether eating, drinking, or sleeping. She even added a pocket to her clothing with an opening, carrying the egg with her amidst the scorn of others.

Even Amber, who enjoyed teasing her apprentice, found it hard to watch, punishing a few witches who laughed and called Dill a mother hen.

But Dill didn't care; she believed the egg wasn't just an egg but hope, a dream!

As days passed, the egg showed no signs of hatching, which only increased the witches' anticipation and Dill's anxiety.

She also feared that her status as a foreigner in this world might have truly offended the local deities. As the saying goes, daydreams lead to nightmares. In Dill's nightmare, her beloved big white egg finally hatched, only to reveal a bucket of KFC, quickly devoured by a group of witches with zombie-like faces.

Waking from the nightmare, Dill refused to wait endlessly. She decided to try using a hatching potion on the egg but feared her own hands.

Worried that the egg might turn into a tea egg if she wasn't careful, Dill prayed to the Moon Goddess before starting, asking for forgiveness for any disrespect or offense she might have caused in the past.

With all past grievances dissipated, she would from now on be the Moon Goddess's most loyal follower, the successor of idealism. However, before she could fully commit to this devotion, Amber, with her twisted sense of humor, interrupted her.

"I have some hatching potion left. Why don't we use mine?"

Amber, feeling somewhat guilty, showed a rare moment of tenderness. She carefully drew the curtains, strengthened the doors and windows with magical seals, and even made threatening gestures to those outside.

Just as Dill was about to speak, a sudden c***k silenced both teacher and apprentice, their eyes locking as the air around them froze. Only the bubbling of the cauldron and a faint, peculiar noise could be heard, creating a c***k in the icy atmosphere.

The room, and even outside, fell silent, with even the cats treading lightly, as if everyone sensed something significant.

Dill's shoulders trembled, listening to the sound of the eggshell cracking behind her, her neck stiff as stone, unable to turn.

After a long moment, hearing something fall to the ground, Dill finally regained her senses. She looked at Amber for confirmation: Well?

Amber faced her, having just witnessed the birth of the familiar. Her expression was a mix of every emotion, akin to a burnt pot bottom.

"Alive?" the woman attempted to find a neutral term.

Dill held her breath waiting for an answer, nearly fainting when she heard it. But she dared not ask directly, fearing her heart couldn't take it.

She ventured, "Wha-what color is it?"

"White?"

Dill's heart skipped a beat, her mind racing through all possible mythical creatures from the East.

"White with black?!" Could it really be a national treasure?!

The girl's ecstatic expression made Amber somewhat uncomfortable.

She struggled to say, "Not black, but there's some red?"

White with a bit of red? Dill's face fell. What kind of creature was that?

"Does it... match me?"

"It matches, matches very well." This time, Amber was certain, nodding vigorously.

White with red, and matching her Eastern vibe, could it be... a Red-crowned Crane?!

Dill, thrilled, turned around to embrace her fellow countryman... only to see something snow-white and plump, with red feet firmly on the ground, exactly as Amber described.

So white, so red, so grounded, such a big... red-footed white goose!

The dark-haired girl and the big white goose stared at each other, and Dill felt the world spin before everything went black.

Amber looked sympathetically at the girl who had fainted to the ground, then at the chubby white goose, pondering for a while before squeezing out a word of comfort:

"At least the familiar looks tastier than its master, offering a chance to survive for another ten minutes."

In a daze, Dill barely opened her eyes, faintly seeing the worn-out "Divine Benedictions" book, casually thrown on the ground earlier.

It was opened to its most wrinkled page, with one corner folded into a large triangle, clearly often flipped through:

"Underage witches must hunt a demon wolf alone on the night of their eighteenth full moon, offering its head to the pantheon of goddesses. Those who fail to complete the sacrifice ritual will be stripped of their magic and forever cursed by the Moon Goddess."

She now felt truly cursed.