Since the beginning, he had been taught that witches were harbingers of calamity—creatures cloaked in darkness, born to twist fate and summon ruin. And so, he became a hunter. One of the best.

Relentless and unyielding, he had pursued them across mountains and marshes, through whispers of cursed winds and trails gone cold. Most ran. Some fought. But in the end, all fell.

Now, the last one sat behind iron bars—silent, watching. Her presence unsettled even the guards, yet he felt no fear. Only the weight of duty.

He stood before her, arms crossed, voice like a cold blade.

“You have a few days left. Prepare yourself, witch.”