Miss Witch Doesn’t Want to Become a Songstress

Chapter 4 - Extinguished Glow



Rain drummed against the steel panels and slanted stairs, its patter accompanied by the occasional splatter of raindrops on umbrellas carried by passersby.

Hestia held a folder over her head, gripping the coarse, rusted railing with one hand as she hurried down the stairs.

Her black shoes splashed through puddles, making rhythmic clacking sounds, while her over-the-knee black stockings, dampened by the rain, appeared a darker shade.

After some hurried steps, she finally entered the inner structure of the atrium, safe from the rain.

Lowering her folder and shaking off the water droplets, the gray-haired girl slowed her pace and took a moment to glance around.

Compared to the massive atrium, this area was merely a small internal structure along its walls. Numerous similar exits and entrances, resembling a spiderweb, branched out into the complex underground network.

Walking through a long steel corridor, Hestia joined a few scattered pedestrians waiting at a vertical elevator.

Clank, clank, clank—

The heavy grinding of gears echoed as the industrial elevator, its floor slightly trembling, slowly ascended from below. Through its steel mesh walls, one could see the rust and wear on its corners.

Despite the wear and tear, the elevator possessed a rugged industrial charm. Its sturdy, solid structure exuded a sense of reliability.

The elevator was vast—approximately 16 meters long, 12 meters wide, and 8 meters high. Its spacious interior dwarfed its occupants.

Originally, 300 years ago, such elevators were used primarily for freight transport. Now repurposed for civilian use, their dimensions were tailored to accommodate the “Viper-R2” medium tanks of the Federal military at the time.

Recalling historical tidbits she’d read, Hestia, along with a few others, stepped into the elevator. Her black shoes clacked softly against the black grating floor, leaving faint echoes. Droplets of water and dust slipped through the floor’s gaps, falling into the layer below.

This grating was cleverly designed with an underlayer to collect debris, mud, and trash. Cleaning was straightforward—simply spray the surface with a high-pressure water jet and empty the lower layer afterward.

While the Federation boasted advanced, high-end elevators—glass spheres gliding silently through transparent tubes—their maintenance costs were prohibitively high, making them unsuitable for industrial cities like Arpeggio.

After a brief two-minute wait, the elevator began to move. Hestia watched the heavy steel doors close as the gears clanked and the cabin began its descent. The initial slow pace quickened, the sound of turning gears merging into a continuous high-pitched whine.

The elevator descended 7 kilometers through the earth’s crust to reach Arpeggio City’s subterranean district. The reason for such a deep location was rooted in history.

Verdant Veil’s rapid development occurred during the Federation’s civil war. As a military production hub, the planet needed protection against enemy assaults.

To preserve key personnel during orbital bombardments, industrial cities were built underground, shielded by armor-plated domes to withstand ground-penetrating nukes. The “Viper-R2” tanks, suited for urban underground combat, could serve as makeshift fortresses to block passageways.

After ten minutes, the elevator pierced through the darkness into a dimly lit underground world, its speed gradually decreasing.

A city illuminated by soft orange-yellow lights came into view.

Steel buildings stood in orderly rows. A few hover cars navigated the skies, while pedestrians strolled under streetlights. Neon signs flickered amidst the gloom, their changing images vying for attention.

[Underground Level 42: Arrived]

The outdated screen inside the elevator displayed the message as its heavy doors slowly opened.

Stepping out, Hestia was greeted by familiar staircases and streets—paths she had walked for over a decade. Her steps lightened as she moved along.

Arpeggio City’s underground levels were divided as follows:

Levels 1-30: Crust layers with minimal structures.

Levels 30-40: Armored layers, uninhabitable.

Levels 40-45: Public zones housing supermarkets, shops, restaurants, public institutions, plazas, and more.

Levels 45-50: Office zones for companies and businesses.

Levels 50-70: Divided into residential and industrial zones.

Below Level 70: Uncharted territory.

What should I eat tonight?

Walking along the street, the girl eyed a brightly lit supermarket in the distance. Mentally calculating her budget, she tallied her funds. After reserving emergency and savings funds for the next two months, she had only 405 Federal Credits at her disposal—deducted from an initial 525 Credits due to the 120 spent on the hover car.

The thought of spending that much pained her. “120 Credits…” she muttered, fidgeting with her fingers.

It’s time to start earning some money.

Now that middle school was over, with months before high school began, she had to find a way to cover her living expenses.

Pondering her options, Hestia entered the familiar supermarket.

Under the bright white lights, shelves were neatly stacked with various goods. Nearby, rows of fresh produce and vegetables were displayed—some locally grown in Arpeggio City, others transported from afar.

[Grade T6 White Rice: 6.23 Credits/500g, Grade T6 Snow Cabbage: 5.34 Credits/200g, Grade T6 Fresh Red Meat: 20.12 Credits/500g, Grade T5 White Strawberries: 37.52 Credits/200g, Grade T5 Purple Mulberries: 45.06 Credits/200g…]

“Strawberries are still so expensive…” Hestia murmured, her gaze lingering on the price tags.

Ever since her father left, she had been living alone and rarely had the chance to enjoy expensive fruits. The last time she bought some was for her birthday, and while she had been delighted while eating them, afterward she felt guilty for being so indulgent.

The so-called T6 grade refers to food or industrial goods without any extraordinary properties, making them easy to produce and inexpensive. In contrast, T5-grade items involve minor use of extraordinary technology during production. Although the end products have no special effects, their superior quality results in higher prices.

“I’ll just stick to the basics,” Hestia decided, weaving her way through the shelves to pick out a few of her favorite vegetables. She placed them into the basket beside her and soon arrived at the self-checkout counter.

[Welcome. Calculating your total…]

The AI display showed the itemized prices as mechanical arms on either side bagged her items. One by one, the amounts appeared on the screen, accumulating into the final bill.

[Your total is 40.67 Federal Credits. As a loyal customer, you’ve received a discount. The final amount is 37.24 credits.]

“Thank you.”

Hestia extended her pale wrist toward the payment scanner. With a soft beep, the transaction was completed. She collected the bag handed over by the robot and left the store.

All Federal residents had microchips implanted in their wrist bones, functioning as identification and payment devices, making everyday transactions extremely convenient.

Leaving the store, Hestia walked toward a corner elevator, descending to the C3 residential district on the 62nd floor.

A few minutes later, she exited the elevator, carrying her shopping bag. The heavy elevator doors closed behind her, sealing off the bright white light inside.

Before her stretched a dim, silent world. The elevator hallway branched into multiple corridors, faintly illuminated by scattered orange-yellow overhead lights. Many of these were broken or covered in layers of grime, their light weak and flickering.

The spacious hallways were littered with disordered trash bins. The walls on either side were a patchwork of graffiti, slogans protesting the government, industrial group mottos from past eras, neighborly squabbles scrawled out in insults, and even posted photos and papers exposing scandals. These chaotic displays obscured the original dark red rust-proof paint.

Most residents in this area were from Arpeggio City’s lower-income bracket. Crime rates were high, but Hestia had no choice but to live here.

She hadn’t grown up in such an environment. Six years ago, before she turned ten, her family had been well-off, living in a higher residential area. That neighborhood had excellent amenities, including public sky-view spaces with simulated skies, natural breezes, and grassy parks perfect for playing under artificial trees.

But with the successive deaths of her mother and sister, the family’s finances had been drained. Eventually, they had to move to the lower districts.

Her father had left a year ago, leaving only a letter urging her to live well.

“Who knows where that old man is now. Probably digging in some illegal mining zone,” Hestia sometimes thought bitterly about her irresponsible father’s sudden departure.

Walking through the long hallways, she occasionally encountered familiar faces. Hestia would nervously nod and smile, though she knew the polite thing to do would be to greet them by name and exchange a few words.

For her, however, that was too daunting. She feared calling someone by the wrong name and found it hard to think of what to say. It always felt awkward, so she stuck to smiling and nodding.

Thankfully, the long-time residents were used to her behavior and didn’t give her a hard time.

Turning a corner, Hestia stopped in front of a passage where four young children were gathered. One of them was standing and wiping tears from their eyes.

“Stop crying!” one of the kids, shaking the crying child, said in frustration.

“Such a scaredy-cat,” another remarked.

“What should we do now? If she keeps crying, the adults will see us and scold us again,” a third complained.

The children seemed troubled, discussing their predicament.

“You all…” Hestia hesitated, not wanting to speak up but realizing they were blocking her path.

“Ah, it’s the gray-haired big sister!”

“The one who’s really good at school!”

“The one who never talks!” The children’s candid remarks reflected the neighborhood’s general impression of Hestia.

Though introverted and timid, Hestia wasn’t as anxious around these familiar neighborhood kids.

“What are you all doing here?” Her voice was like a thin gray thread weaving quietly through the air, soft and unobtrusive.

“The light ahead is broken, or maybe the power’s out in there,” one of the children pointed to the pitch-black passageway ahead.

“We wanted to walk back together, but we hadn’t gone far before Lulu got scared and started crying. Then she ran back.”

“We tried to make her walk again, but she absolutely refused. So timid.”

“Actually, I’m a little scared too,” added a child who had been silent until now, speaking from the corner.

Is it a power outage? Hestia looked toward the distant tunnel. It was about 200 meters long—not too far—but without any lights, it was engulfed in darkness.

After observing for a moment and seeing nothing unusual, she stepped forward, activating the lighting function on her personal terminal. A beam of light emerged, though it seemed small compared to the seven or eight-meter-wide tunnel.

“Follow me,” she said, turning to see the expectant eyes of the children behind her.

She still felt somewhat nervous around children. Unlike mature and predictable adults, kids could act in unexpected ways, a situation Hestia wasn’t good at handling. If it weren’t for this chance encounter, she would normally have kept her distance.

“Wow, a big sister with a personal terminal!”

“Now we have light.”

“It should be fine if we follow her, right?”

Even the previously crying girl had quieted down, holding a companion’s hand as they followed Hestia. The scene resembled a mother duck leading her ducklings across a river.

For once, these kids were endearing, and a faint sense of calm washed over Hestia as she led them into the dark tunnel.

Her shoes echoed against the steel floor, accompanied by the occasional sound of dripping water and the flow of liquid through pipes. Step by step, Hestia advanced with the children trailing behind.

At first, she thought this was just a minor detour on her way home, until a sudden sense of dread emerged.

About 50 meters from the exit, a dark shadow suddenly shot through the beam of light, lunging at the glowing personal terminal in her hand. The impact was so powerful it almost knocked her over, and pain seared through her wrist.

The rectangular terminal flew from her grasp, tumbling across the ground before stopping some distance away. A crunching noise followed—the sound of glass and metal being shattered—and the light was extinguished instantly. The children’s terrified cries filled the tunnel, throwing everything into chaos.

The sudden turn of events left Hestia panicked, but the children’s screams behind her snapped her back to reality.

Calm down. Think. You need to act. This is not the time to freeze.

She repeated these words in her mind as her trembling legs leaned against the cold wall. Her right wrist throbbed with pain, and she felt warm, sticky blood trickling down her skin.

Pressing her left hand against her forehead, her stiff, trembling fingers began to relax as she forced herself to regain composure.

“Hah—hah—” Her breathing was harsh and rapid, more intense than she had ever experienced.

With her chest rising and falling, Hestia pushed herself off the wall and stood.

“You all… come behind me,” she said, her voice quivering.

But the children were too busy crying to hear or respond.

“Shut up!” she shouted, stomping her foot. The sharpness of her voice surprised even herself.

The kids stopped crying, startled by the unexpected outburst.

“Get behind me!” Her voice was firm but still laced with heavy breaths.

The children stumbled in the dark, fumbling their way to her side. Only then did Hestia turn her attention to the unseen threat ahead.

Although she couldn’t see it, the sound of glass shards and metal being chewed resonated through the tunnel, terrifyingly vivid in the oppressive darkness.

A mutant beast? A malfunctioning machine? Or a crazed person? Hestia tried to identify the threat, but her broken personal terminal meant she couldn’t call the nearby autonomous riot control units.

With no other options, she silently activated her extraordinary core. A faint, ethereal blue light emerged from her pupils, forming a simple symbol.

Decay Sequence 2: Shadowed Visitation, activated—

Like invisible shadows unfurling from her, the pitch-black tunnel transformed in her vision.

It became a monochrome world, with countless thread-like lines outlining everything in sight. Not far ahead, a chaotic spiritual presence came into focus—a writhing, indistinct form. As a Sequence 2 practitioner, the ability granted her little combat prowess but excelled in detecting anomalies. She could see what others couldn’t: spirits, spectral creatures, and spiritual presences.

Machines lack a soul or consciousness, so that possibility was ruled out. Mutant beasts also wouldn’t have such a rich awareness or spiritual presence. Therefore, it had to be a deranged human, Hestia concluded, calming herself slightly.

Just as humans can use Aijeka particles to influence reality through their minds, practicing transcendent sequences could lead to mental corruption if the constructed extraordinary core was flawed. Over time, this could drive a person insane or turn them into a fool.

This was why many people remained in the same sequence tier their entire lives, unwilling to advance. Forcing progression often resulted in catastrophic failure—either immediate self-destruction or descending into madness.

After observing for a few seconds, fragments of knowledge surfaced in Hestia’s mind.

Runaway Entity: Human

Physical appearance: 32–40 years old, partial bodily deformation.

Extraordinary sequence: Dragon Sequence 3 · Unknown (Rating: Fragmented Bronze-tier).

Attack methods: Fanged Bite (Lv.2), Sharp Claws (Lv.1).

Abilities: Physical Enhancement (Lv.2), Beast Perception (Lv.1).

The above information was Hestia’s deduction based on her training. While not entirely accurate or comprehensive, it was sufficient for now.

The entity wasn’t exceptionally strong, but Hestia lacked proper weapons or offensive means at the moment, leaving her feeling bitter.

Time wasn’t on her side. The nearly feral human had nearly finished chewing up her personal terminal. Once it was done, it would undoubtedly attack her.

Think of something! A bead of sweat rolled down Hestia’s forehead. Her back alternated between chills and burning heat, while pain continued to radiate from her twitching right hand.

Under the intense pressure, adrenaline surged through her body. Taking deep, trembling breaths, she lowered her posture, ready to react at any moment.

Without a suitable weapon, her only means of attack was the rudimentary spirit purification formula of the Decay Sequence. It harnessed the sequence’s devastating effects on spiritual entities, scattering or obliterating an opponent’s soul. However, this process required 5–7 seconds and necessitated physically touching the opponent’s head. Her body was nowhere near as strong as an adversary who had practiced the Dragon Sequence, and she also had to contend with its fangs and claws…

Before Hestia could finalize a plan, the entity finished its meal and lunged at her again.

In the pitch-black environment, its claws scraped against the metal floor, producing sharp, grating sounds. Heavy, ragged breaths grew louder as it closed in. Even though Hestia couldn’t see it, the sheer madness emanating from the beast was palpable.

Kicking off the ground, Hestia moved to the side, trying to draw its attention away from the children behind her while simultaneously searching for an opportunity to strike.

Her plan quickly failed.

As soon as she made noise, the entity seemed to lock onto her as its target, accelerating dramatically. Before she could react, it collided with her.

The impact fractured her right arm with an audible snap. The excruciating pain nearly caused her to faint as she was hurled backward, slamming into the cold, damp tunnel wall. The reverberating shock felt like it would eject her heart from her chest.

Stars danced in her vision as she slid down the wall. The creature’s hot breath was now inches away. Its claw pressed down heavily on her left shoulder, gouging bloody grooves into her skin, while its fangs aimed directly for her right shoulder.

The sound of bones being crushed resembled fireworks, followed by the nauseating noise of flesh being torn apart and chewed.

The searing pain drained nearly all of Hestia’s consciousness, leaving her body trembling uncontrollably.

She was going to die.

That despair washed over her like a tidal wave, so close and overwhelming that she began to hallucinate—fragments of a happy childhood, the sister she admired, parents who played with her…

Was it all going to end here?

No, it shouldn’t. There were still so many things left undone.

In flashes of memories—rain-soaked gravestones, black flowers laid upon them, the desolate figure of a man walking away, ridicule and curses endured, hidden aspirations, and dreams of the future—Hestia clenched onto the will to survive.

A raspy, choking sound escaped her throat as if her vocal cords were being torn apart. Blood poured freely from her wounds as she desperately flailed her left arm, managing to create a small gap beneath the claw pinning her down. Bloodied fingers clawed toward the entity’s neck.

It wasn’t enough. Not close enough. Knowledge from her lessons burned in her mind like a brand:

“The purification formula of Decay Sequence 2 is a universal tool for clearing lingering souls and fragmented consciousness. To affect a living being, one must be within 2.7 cm of their brain; otherwise, the formula’s purifying magic rapidly decays, rendering it ineffective.”

Human skulls have thickness, and this distance was still too great!

Kicking against the ground, Hestia scraped and writhed, lifting her torso to stretch her arm higher.

Just a little more. She could almost feel the coarse texture of its hair, fragments of scales on its head.

But the entity had finished with her right shoulder. It raised its head again, this time lunging for her throat.

Its fangs pierced her windpipe and trachea. Darkness consumed her vision as blood flooded her airway. Her left hand fell limp against the creature’s nape.

As her life ebbed away, the enemy’s movement brought its head close enough for her fingers to touch its skull.

Amid the feral tearing, a faint blue glow illuminated the darkness—a small, fragile light.

Slowly, the glow faded.

The tunnel fell silent once more, the beastly growls disappearing into the void. Darkness and deathly quiet reigned.


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