Magical Journey: The Other Shore Blooms on the Other Shore

"Irena, are you sure this is the right direction?" A group of witches sped across the vast snowfield on broomsticks. They had been traveling for ten days straight, basically alternating between the witches who carried people during the day and the witches who carried people at night, while the witches who carried people at night rested during the day.

Although this would sacrifice some speed, the uninterrupted flight reduced the originally expected month-long journey to half a month.

“The direction is right,” Elena replied. In this desolate snowfield, compasses were completely useless, and the vast white expanse offered no reference. Her ability to orient herself relied entirely on a magical eagle brought by Sila and kept within the association.

For the Magic Integration Association, this is ultimately a pioneering mission, so it's not surprising that they would apply for a magical pet to help them find their way.

For Elena, the direction wasn't the problem; time was. More than half a month had passed since Qin's accident and her being taken to Beatrice. Could something have already happened to her?

Even after arriving in Beatrice, they were still clueless about how to rescue Qin. They could only make a few rough plans, but none of the people present had ever seen Beatrice before. Only by seeing this kingdom could those rough plans be refined as much as possible.

Regardless, the only goal now is to get to Beatrice as quickly as possible.

“Irena, you’ve been flying for three days straight, you should take a rest,” Fran said.

"it does not matter."

We're almost there—just hang in there a little longer.

Fortunately, there were no blizzards along the way, and everyone was traveling in a straight line. We're almost at our destination—but let's not think about it anymore, lest we jinx it.

After two more days of travel and flying.

The group finally arrived at the coordinates.

"Irena, are you sure we're going the right way?" Fran asked, a little unsure.

Could the coordinates have been miscalculated? After all, it's incredible that you managed to unlock the other party's box in just a few days. Miscalculating the coordinates is somewhat understandable.

There is no kingdom here.

There was only ruins.

What? Did the people of Beatrice blow themselves up because they couldn't stand their own evil deeds?

“This is it,” Elena said with certainty. “Otherwise, how could there be ruins in this vast snowfield? But… what exactly happened here? No—where’s Qin?”

"Is this the witch's capital? How come it's all in ruins now?" someone in the witch's party whispered.

After all, they hoped to gain something from this trip; otherwise, it would be disappointing to travel so far only to end up with nothing.

Some of them even suspected that Elena was making fun of them, saying, "We've come all this way through so much trouble, and all you're showing us is ruins?"

"As expected, you still came."

who is it?

Elena was surprised to find people still living in these ruins. Were they Angela and the others?

Upon hearing this sound, all the witches present drew their witch weapons and prepared for battle. Emnessia stayed behind her sister—she was indeed a warrior, but what warrior would venture into the range of a witch's attack?

"Do you remember me... that rebellious little gray-haired girl who refused to become a goddess?" Mo sat lazily on a collapsed building.

"You are—the Grim Reaper?" Although they hadn't spent much time together, the other person's identity was so extraordinary that it was hard to forget. "Were you waiting for me?"

“I guess so. Actually, my initial purpose in staying here was just to pack up souls. Although it has exceeded the agreed amount, why not take it?” Mo replied. “But since you’re here, let’s complete the final request from back then.”

"What do you mean?"

“Angela asked me to keep something for you, and I’ll give it to you when you come,” Mo said. “Take it, take it. I’m leaving now, there’s nothing else for me here.”

Mo handed over a scroll of notes, then shouldered his sickle and prepared to leave.

"Wait, where's the piano?" Elena blurted out.

“Who knows,” Mo replied. “But if you’re asking where Angela is, she’s dead. None of Beatrice’s men survived yesterday.”

All dead?

Mo didn't say anything more, and by the time Elena asked her next question, she had already disappeared.

Elena silently opened the journal. What was this guy going to give her? Was he trying to mock her?

In the age of magic, who still uses notes to communicate?

Irene had assumed the journal was small and delicate, and that it couldn't contain many words. But when she opened it, she discovered that it had over a thousand pages and was crafted with very special magic; it was an incredible magical artifact in itself.

"This is the narrative of Beatrice, the Witch of XX, XXXXXXXXX."

All the writing about Beatrice was blurred and illegible, making Elena think that Beatrice was just playing a prank.

"The Witch of Fate is dead. This is where the Witch of Flowers, Angela, takes over the narrative. We have already surveyed the exact location of the rift. Although it hasn't revealed itself yet, and is only an energy gap, the crisis the teacher mentioned should originate from this. I should nip it in the bud."

"It's impossible, absolutely impossible. It's clearly a very simple gap, but no matter how we try to fill it, new gaps will always appear. The specific reason is unknown and needs further investigation."

"Beatlecithie started a revolution this year, and research on the fissures will be temporarily suspended."

"This year, Beatrice was buried more than halfway by a sudden heavy snowfall, so we need to pay more attention to targeted defense arrangements."

"..."

"This is the narrative of Annie, the Witch of the Clear Sky; Angela, the Witch of Flowers. Our queen passed away yesterday. She was a great witch. This narrative is dedicated to her memory: XXXXXXX"

The thousands of words describe what Angela had done.

The following pages contained narratives about the kingdom from various rulers throughout history. Irene was completely baffled and couldn't understand why Angela had left her these things. Irene turned directly to the last page.

"I guess some people don't like reading such long content and just turn to this page, because I'm the same way. I am Angela, the Silk Witch, and I share the same name as the great previous witch, the Flower Witch, but this is not a coincidence. You can assume that I am her."

“I will end the tragic era of the Beatrice kingdom, and I am confident that I can do it.”

Elena quickly skimmed through Angela's narrative.

Suddenly she noticed her own name.

"If you are Miss Elena reading this chronicle now, please turn to page 657, where I have left you a message."

What the hell.

Just as Elena turned to page 657, words suddenly appeared on the previously blank page: "All that has passed is but a prologue. As the last disciple of the Witch of Fate, try to truly end it all. You are my last reins. Whether you can stop Jean from destroying the world depends on you."

"Boom—" Just as Elena finished reading these words, a huge roar came from afar.

That surge of magical energy forcefully knocked everyone present to the ground.

That familiar magic—could it be…?