Editing Failing Witch:Volume2 Episode3 (section)

===Part 7===

They never could have made it alone.

But the two girls managed to arrive in the nick of time.

“Eep, Viocia!”

“Don’t you dare steal all the glory for yourself, failing witch!!”

Dorothea and Melehe rushed out from the trees. They sharply changed positions to spread out and cover Viocia and Freynir.

Melehe held her Formula Broom in one hand and sharply pointed at the old woman with her empty hand.

“We heard everything you said from in the forest. Self-taught witch Elinalva, I will admit it must have taken some skill to search out a supposedly-extinct elf.”

“Right you are. I am the discoverer of this elf, so I must hold some rights over her, such as naming rights.”

Discoverer.

Did she see it like ''finding an animal in the woods and taking it in as a pet''? And as the owner, she could decide how the elf lived? That was a horribly selfish human-centric view, but that wasn’t what Melehe was trying to say.

“Freynir, was it? It’s true she may be the last of the elves.”

“Yes, exactly my point! She is truly the last one. If more are not made by any means necessary, then these pure elves really will go extinct!!”

“But she’s an elf. If the legends are true, don’t they live for ''more than ten thousand years''? Whatever the case, she has an exceptionally long lifespan.”

Old Elinalva stopped speaking when she heard Melehe.

And the pointing sky pirate girl kept going.

“Ten thousand years is a long time. She could outlive the entire human race. She might look like the last one to us, but she only has to meet one person over the course of ten thousand years to get married, so she has no reason to rush. So you happened to discover the final female elf and now you have to chop her to pieces to make more? And you have to kill humans and let them rot to maybe create a male elf? Go to hell. None of that is necessary.”

None of the supposed problems were an issue for the elf girl herself.

What was the pressing reason to ignore her own wishes and chop her up to ''immediately'' make more?

The answer was obvious.

“You’re an ugly old witch. Which means, unlike my mom, you age normally. You’re a second-rate witch who couldn’t become one of the Limit Breakers who can ignore their natural lifespan.”

“…Wha-?”

“''That'' is why you want to make more elves ''right this instant''. You want to see the elves prosper in your lifetime. But that has nothing at all to do with the fate of elves as a whole. It’s just your personal desire to see it. Don’t mess with Freynir’s life and future for something like that!”

This was a rejection of personal virtue.

A revelation of a lowly sin.

By arguing down their opponent with impeccable logic, anyone could claim the justice ruling the scene.

That was why a real witch would not act based on anything ''so vague''. A basis that shifted from time to time, place to place, and situation to situation – and could even overturn reality at times – was far too risky.

“Unless we reach Limit Breaker status, the fate of an elf with a lifespan of more than ten thousand years is something none of us can ever see. And we know from personal experience that Limit Breakers are not just a fantasy. So if you do want to see the future of the elves, you don’t need to chop up Freynir – you need to start training yourself up as an observer. You abandoned your own dream from the moment you avoided looking at that and stopped improving yourself as a witch!!”

There was no logical rebuttal or even an emotional outburst.

Elinalva said nothing.

The old witch trembled with nothing at all left.

Witch battles started before the actual encounter began. Witches used their ''willpower'' to affect the outside world, borrow great power, and control magic, so psychological warfare could influence the battle more than it might seem.

And just then…

“Eep. W-wait, Melehe. This isn’t over yet.”

“Eh?”

But make no mistake.

Witches did not reject their own desire. They believed that, if those desires could be controlled, they made for a powerful motivator toward achieving one’s goals.

''If they could be controlled.

Why was that qualifier necessary?

What happened to a witch who failed to control her desire?

“Ohhh…” groaned the old woman, her empty hand over her face.

It was a low, low moan.

But it didn’t end there. A pair of red lights glowed from between her fingers. Those were slit-like snake eyes. They had a color never seen in humans.

Viocia instantly mimicked her teacher.

Because she believed this is what Myousou Yagoro would have done.

“Freynir! Get behind me!!”

“?”

Viocia moved to protect the elf girl.

So she was a moment too late to nip the threat in the bud.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!”

Something exploded.

A thick tremor shook the air, large leaves scattered from the nearby tropical trees, and colorful birds took flight.

Elinalva had become a Voland. 

A witch became a Voland when she was unable to keep up with the skill and education demanded by her cutting-edge witch’s broom, so her body was hijacked by the Formula Broom with a mind of its own. Had Elinalva been so mentally shaken her ability dropped to that level?

“Hee hee. I suppose I should be thanking you, young ladies.”

Wickedness swirled through the air.

This was unlike before. The old woman was enveloped by an unseen destructive desire powerful enough to cause her body to break down.

The situation was worse than they could have imagined. The world’s darkness was truly bottomless.

“This despair! This resignation!! This failure!!! I have finally been freed. I am Formula Broom – Reykjaholt, aka ''Demon Lord Snorri''!! You poor old woman, I have one final gift for you since you did become my sacrifice. I will kill all of these people to make your greatest wish come true!!!”