Chapter 182: The Ghost Witch’s Help

After checking the other ruins in Green Swamp Town and confirming the devil worship was likely the Elf Mage’s personal choice, Ron and the others immediately hurried to the swamp where the Ghost Witch lived, hoping Polly would have some information about the ancient ruins.

"Don’t know, haven’t seen it, can’t help you."

In the Ghost Witch’s hut, Polly served them tea and snacks, but this time it was all rotten food. Ron and the others easily saw through the clumsy trick. Only Delaford recklessly drank the tea in one gulp before spitting every last drop back out.

"What do you take me for?" Polly maintained her appearance as an old woman, even though both sides were well aware of her true form. "I’m just a ’youngster’ who was only born a hundred-odd years ago. How could I possibly know so many things?"

"I heard you killed your mother and an ’auntie’," Yelena said, looking at the Ghost Witch. "Don’t tell me you killed them before you learned all their skills?"

"Don’t try to provoke me, little beauty," Polly let out a hoarse laugh. "You’re a Shadow Spirit, hmm? You should be serving the Lady of Death, not messing around with this... ugly Human Lord."

"Is that really how you’d describe me?" Ron asked, feigning disappointment as he pulled a round, iron disc from his pocket. "How disappointing. I even brought you a gift."

"But now it seems..."

"A Soul Coin!" Polly’s eyes widened. "Give it to me, now!"

"No, no... Merciful and generous Lord, could you possibly grant a weak old crone’s humble request and bestow this precious coin upon her? If you would be so kind, I am willing to do anything for you!"

"She’s quick to change her tune," Silvia muttered with a frown.

"Ha, it’s called being flexible, you bitch!" Her previous words clearly weren’t sincere, and she quickly reverted to her usual self. "Do you have any idea how much a Soul Coin is worth?"

"Ghost Witches who live long enough can change their race as they please," Yelena said, completely unsurprised by the Ghost Witch’s reaction. "Demon Ghost Witches, Night Ghost Witches, Green Hags, Sea Hags... If I’m not mistaken, the ritual to become a Night Ghost Witch requires a Soul Coin, does it not?"

"Seems you’ve had plenty of dealings with our kind," Polly gave the Shadow Spirit a sinister look. "Yes, you’re right. But Soul Coins have many other uses besides that."

"In the Nine Prisons, in the Abyss, even on the Material Plane, there are plenty of beings willing to use them as currency. I’m no exception."

"So, Lord Ron, let me ask again: are you willing to pay the price of one Soul Coin in exchange for a Ghost Witch’s ’free’ service?"

By ’free,’ Polly of course meant there would be no contract and no other price to pay, as all costs would be borne by the soul inside the coin.

"I’d like to hear what you can do first," Ron said, relaxing now that he saw the Ghost Witch’s keen interest. "A single consultation can’t possibly cost this much, can it?"

The Ghost Witch waved her hand, replacing Ron’s cup with a normal, non-poisonous cup of black tea. "Of course not! How else would I do any other business?"

"Put it this way: I’ve gleaned some of my mother’s memories. Deeper into the Delusional Land, at the foot of those mountains, there is a ruin. An ancient race once gathered there and thrived on mining. My mother and her former coven went there several times, usually to acquire materials for making Magic Items."

"Let me take another look at where you’re headed... Yes. The description is a little off, but I’m certain that’s the place—or somewhere in the vicinity."

"I can act as your guide, and I can join the fight when necessary. If you get injured or even die along the way, I can bring you back—but I’d advise you to avoid that. After all, I have quite the healing touch."

"Creatures I heal tend to become more... beautiful."

"Combat and healing?" Victoria looked up at the Ghost Witch. "Are you saying this journey might be quite dangerous?"

"This entire Delusional Land is dangerous, little Priestess," the Ghost Witch rolled her eyes. "Are there no beasts near your trading post and village?"

"As for that place... according to my mother’s and ’auntie’s’ memories, large numbers of Undead Creatures roam there, along with some even stranger beings—strange to you, at least."

Ron hadn’t shown Polly the Mage’s journal, but she knew there were a great many Undead Creatures there. This confirmed for him that the place she spoke of was indeed their destination.

"Take it. It’s yours," Ron tossed her the Soul Coin. "I’m hiring you as our guide for this trip."

"I hope you keep your promise. Otherwise... well, we aren’t devils. We’re more inclined to solve problems physically. Right?"

"Not devils, so demons, eh?" the Ghost Witch muttered. "Then wait for me a moment. I need to make some preparations. I’m not sure what we’ll be facing, either."

The Ghost Witch turned and went into the back room, and Ron’s group ended up waiting for nearly two hours. When she finally emerged, her illusion of a small, thin old woman was accompanied by the JINGLING and CLANKING of countless bottles and jars, though there was no outward sign of what she was carrying.

It made her disguise practically useless.

"Looks like this trip is going to be a rough one," Ron joked. "Did you bring everything but the kitchen sink?"

"My mother’s memories could be long out of date. Heaven knows what else is out there," the Ghost Witch snorted. "Besides, there are plenty of unfriendly creatures along the way. Across this swamp, there’s an Owl Bear’s cave. You probably haven’t been there yet, have you?"

"There’s also a pack of ravenous Warg Mounts roaming our path—pray we don’t run into them. Many of my little darlings have become their prey in the past."

As Polly walked out of the hut, she beckoned to two frogs on the porch railing. The "amphibians" immediately leaped down and transformed in the shadows into two short, humanoid old men holding huge scythes.

"Oh, look at their little red hats!" Constance couldn’t help but reach out to touch the pointed hats on the creatures’ heads, each of which had two little bells tied to it.

As the Half-Elf tried to touch them, she was almost bitten. The bells on their hats let out a series of piercing jingles as they shook their heads.

"Get lost!" one of the "little men" snarled, its face a mask of bloodlust as it glared fiercely at Constance. "Or we’ll eat you!"