No further instruction was needed, for what Charles was doing next was something he was naturally adept at—life itself.
Every inch of his muscles trembled wildly, fully immersed in this carnival of life. He pressed down on Hattie's delicate, flawless body from head to toe, heedless of her furious curses and sobs, focused solely on his own relentless thrusting, again and again.
But as the light of Purification completely enveloped the witch's body, her heartless insults gradually transformed into melodious moans. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her soft waist began to sway actively, matching Charles's movements, until they reached the peak of pleasure together during his first climax.
Maintaining the posture of their recent intimate union, the two embraced each other and fell into a deep slumber.
Yet, while Charles slept, the system's work was far from over. A milky light passed continuously between them, and some of the soul power that originally belonged to its owner slowly returned to his body, replenishing his rather weak soul...
In slumber, he felt himself trapped in an excruciatingly long dream.
In the dream, he was born into an ordinary family in Liberl Port's East Harbor District. His father, a retired soldier from the colonial navy of the Northern Empire of Sein, chose to remain there after retirement, becoming a City Guard. His mother, a local orphan whose parents had died in a monster attack, made a living as a laundress.
Both parents were devout believers of the Goddess of Life and, being moderately well-off, young Charles was able to attend school, where he performed well. Though the family was not wealthy and his parents often quarreled, life was at least tolerable.
But then, times changed. Due to various circumstances, Liberl Port downsized its guard force, restricting their duties to wealthy residential districts. His father lost his stable job and income, forced to become a freelancer—and in turn, grew increasingly volatile, quick-tempered, and unreasonable.
At that time, his mother was pregnant with his sister. The stress left her melancholic, and after giving birth, she fell gravely ill, passing away four years later. Her death shattered what little restraint his father had left. He succumbed to alcoholism and gambling, beating Charles at the slightest provocation and eventually refusing to pay his tuition.
Young Charles tried scavenging to scrape together enough for school, but the fees were beyond his reach. Eventually, he had to drop out. When he returned home, broken and defeated, he was met with even worse news: to settle his gambling debts, his father had sold his little sister to human traffickers...
Enraged, Charles fought with his father, even attempting to stab the veteran. Failing, he fled the East Harbor District—but with no skills, he couldn't go far. He ended up in the poorer, more chaotic South Harbor District, barely surviving as a scavenger, drifting without hope.
Then one day, starving, he heard that a nearby monastery had nuns offering porridge to the poor. He went to beg for a meal—only to realize too late that it was a trap set by witches scouting for "food." That very night, Hattie dragged him into the monastery, used illusions to stoke his desires, and then drained his soul...
How tragic.
After reliving Nigel Charles's short, miserable life in the dream, the slumbering Charles gradually awoke. He opened his eyes slowly and let out a quiet sigh.
Fate is really unfair to everyone, and all he can do is hold on to the chips in his hand and live well.
Thinking of this, he turned his head slightly and looked out the window. It was already evening, and the huge dark red sun was hanging on the edge of the western horizon, trying to bring the last bit of warmth and light to the earth.
By the fading light, he could see the disarray of his bed. Naked Hattie lay entwined with him, her proud, snow-white breasts pressed against his chest. The soft, elastic sensation sent another surge of heat through his body.
His mental and physical state seemed remarkably fine now?
Yes, his mind was clear, energized—he felt as if he'd never been in better shape...
His hands couldn't resist wandering over Hattie's body, kneading, savoring that exquisite sensation. As he caressed her, the slumbering witch furrowed her brows slightly, her dazed eyes fluttering open—clearly awakened by his touch.
But the moment she recognized him, her gaze flooded with boundless gentleness. Her delicate lips parted, her voice brimming with adoration and attachment: "Master..."
Then, to his shock, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing close with utter contentment.
Charles froze. He'd imagined how the witch might react upon waking—rage? Sobbing? Resignation?
He'd considered every possibility... except this. Hattie acted as though her affection for him had maxed out, even calling him Master?
This...
"...Hattie?" He gripped her wrist, uneasy, and whispered, "You... don't hate me?"
Hattie looked up at him, blinking her large, aqua-blue eyes, confusion lacing her tone. "I don't hate you, Master, why would you think so?"
Charles fumbled for words. Her furious expression from before was still vivid in his mind. "Because, well…I mean, didn't you…lose your power and freedom?"
Hattie smiled, then hugged him, resting her head against his chest. Her eyes slid shut as she murmured, "I haven't lost my power, Master. And as for freedom…"
"I feel very fulfilled now, with a sense of security, and no longer have the emptiness, emptiness and confusion I once had..."
"I've never experienced happiness like this before. Something so real. I could've never imagined it. Today should be remembered forever…the most important turning point of my fate."
Her whisper carried pure sincerity, and as Charles listened, he suddenly understood. A quiet sigh escaped him.
So that's it… This was the witches' flaw?
Witches weren't normal, complete creatures of the material world. In a way, they were more like fiends from a bottomless abyss—born from the chaos and disorder of energy beyond the world, merging with magic or natural phenomena to become what they were now.
They gained monstrous true forms, ever-shifting magical abilities…yet they craved the emotions they couldn't produce themselves: the ordinary joys and sorrows of humans. That was why they took such delight in toying with, tormenting humans, before finally draining their souls.
But now, after his purification, it seemed Hattie's flaw had been filled—even overfilled, turning her into his most devoted follower?
The thought sent a thrill through Charles. After all, Hattie's method of draining souls, cruel and evil as it was, counted as merciful among witches.
If his purification ability could truly redeem them…what a boon that would be for the world.
Thinking this way, he grew increasingly excited. Then, he lowered his head, gazing at Hattie's attachment, her rosy lips, her bare snow-white delicate body, and her full, upright bosom. Unable to resist the surging flames of desire within him, his large hand reached out to grasp her once more.
"Mmm..." A seductive moan escaped Hattie's throat, yet she offered no resist. Like a swan, she arched her snow-white neck, eagerly pressing her moist lips to Charles's mouth, craving his kiss.
Without hesitation, Charles leaned down and captured her soft, warm lips. He felt her delicate tongue boldly yet shyly probing, yearning to entwine with his...
"Hattie, are you still in there?"
A cold, clear woman's voice rang from outside, shattering the heated moment between the two.
And now, with his memories restored, Charles instantly recognized the speaker.
Blade Witch—Ruth.