Chapter 275: The Swamp Witch History And Life

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When the Circle of the Swamp was vanquished completely, and she survived as its sole remaining member, she hid within the depths of the Rotting Orchard and made of that place her personal domain over the long eons that followed.

As the Swamp Witch grew up from just a little girl abandoned by all, the Spirit of the Land protected her and guided her. Ultimately it took the form of Swampy, her loyal Swamp Slime, which she raised since he was but a baby slime the size of an apple. She fed him, spoke to him, and found in him the only companion who never judged her. In the endless silence of the orchard she poured out every thought and fear to the soft, glistening creature that pulsed gently in response, never once turning away.

The other druids and spirits feared her deeply, and whoever stepped into her domain was quickly taken down by corrupted plant spirits, the Dryad, or plant monsters like the Carnivorous Flowers. Over time the orchard became a place of whispered legends, a forbidden zone where even the bravest nature spirits refused to tread. Thick mists clung to the twisted trees year-round. The air always carried the heavy scent of decay mixed with the sharp tang of acid. Roots moved of their own accord beneath the black water, and the very ground seemed to watch intruders with malice.

This is how she lived, growing older over the years as she slowly became more and more like the swamps themselves, until her bones became rotten wood, her blood turned to mud, her hair became seaweed, and her flesh became soil and stones. Isolation hardened her, and the years of solitude hollowed out much of what had once been human. She no longer remembered the sound of her own childhood laughter. The warmth of sunlight on skin became a distant, half-forgotten dream, and only the cool and wet embrace of the swamp and Swampy remained real.

And then the Apocalypse arrived upon their world without warning.

Gates opened across the once peaceful lands. Otherworldly beasts the druids had never fought before emerged and swarmed everything, stirring endless chaos and bloodshed. Creatures of metal and shadow, of pure hunger and alien logic, tore through sacred groves and holy wetlands alike. Trees that had stood for centuries were reduced to splinters in moments. Rivers of pure spring water turned black and stagnant under the invaders’ touch. The sky itself seemed to bleed strange colors as more and more rifts split open.

Unlike other worlds, the druids and their spirits were unable to adapt to this endless slaughter. They perished one after another, unable to grow stronger or adapt to classes, skills, or the concept of leveling. Their ancient ways, so deeply tied to natural cycles, offered little defense against the System’s cold rules. Sacred rituals failed. Nature spirits screamed as their essences were torn apart. The great circles of druids fell in silence, their final songs drowned beneath the roar of alien beasts.

The only one who survived everything and saw the entire world burn away was her, the Swamp Witch.

She didn’t know what to say in those final days. She wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t exactly sad either. The isolation she had lived with for so long had already emptied much of her heart. She simply watched as the last of her former enemies fell, feeling neither triumph nor sorrow. From the edges of her protected domain she observed the distant fires and the collapsing horizons with the same detached calm she had once used to watch the seasons change.

As the skies split apart one day, the true menace arrived. An endless black void began to consume everything in its path. Stars vanished. The ground crumbled into nothingness. The very air turned thin and cold as reality itself was erased layer by layer.

Riven once more saw him.

The Cosmic Monarch...

"The Abyssal Gaze...! He also erased this world? Bastard...!"

He clenched his teeth tightly as he continued to digest the memories and emotions within this dungeon core, which carried the deep sorrow of a destroyed world.

But also the profound loneliness of the witch, who watched the world being destroyed while the small fragment of land she had conquered as her domain remained as the only last sanctuary.

The Spirit of the Land, using its last amount of divine power, protected her against the final calamity before everything became pitch black. A green light enveloped her home and the waters around it, holding back the void for just long enough. Swampy pulsed weakly beside her, sharing whatever strength he still possessed.

The Swamp Witch lost consciousness, but then woke up however many years later with Swampy still by her side, under her house deep within the swamp’s dark waters.

"Swampy... I don’t care about anything else as long as you’re with me..."

She cried and hugged Swampy tightly as time went on and her monsters fought for her while she eternally slumbered, until prey came close enough for Swampy to quickly dispatch them and protect his master. The bond between them remained the one constant light in her endless isolation. In the deep darkness beneath the water she sometimes dreamed of the orchard as it had been before the end, of rains and the gentle voice of the land that had once spoken to her. Yet every time she woke, only the cold mud and the faithful presence of her slime remained.

The memories faded just as they showed Riven taking Swampy down. He felt her sorrow in that final moment, and regret washed over him in a heavy wave.

"I’m sorry..."

He sighed quietly, his hand pulling away from the core as he shook his head slowly.

"I’m really sorry..."

He shed a small tear, feeling genuine guilt for what he had been forced to do. The weight of her loneliness and the tragedy of her survival pressed against his chest. For a moment the swamp around him felt heavier, as if the land itself still carried the echo of her long isolation.

"..."

However, he knew deep down that he couldn’t have done it any other way.

She would not have reasoned with him no matter what. She was too far gone into her madness.

The same was true with every monster or boss he had fought so far.

Ignias had been capable of healing back and not dying completely, but she was a very unique exception to that rule.

Now he has two choices in front of him.

"I could let her soul go and help her find peace, or I could keep her as a boss... and maybe she and Swampy may respawn eventually..." he murmured to himself thoughtfully, staring at the glowing core.

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