Hansel’s Enchanted Fairytale: Fill Me Up With Magic! - Chapter 6
Shivering from the cold, Hansel looked up at the hunter.
“W-Wolf…? I didn’t see anything like that…”
Her expression was one no one could believe was lying—partly because she truly was terrified.
The hunter remained silent for a moment, carefully observing Hansel’s disheveled state. His gaze lingered on her bare chest, exposed to the air.
“A lying little miss, huh? If we didn’t already know it was a werewolf, we might have believed you.”
Noticing his stare, Hansel flinched and quickly reached for her cloak lying on the ground. But thud—the hunter stepped on it first.
“Seems to me like you didn’t know what that wolf was, freed it, and got yourself thoroughly enjoyed in return. What do you all think?”
The hunters behind him snickered. Hansel’s trembling hand gripped the cloak tightly.
More than a dozen men, and every one of them had the same look in their eyes. The man stepping on her cloak crouched down with a mocking sneer.
“She’s used goods now, so why not let us have some fun too?”
“Her eyes are like beans, but she’s got a pretty chest.”
They mistook her shrunken eyes, distorted by her enchanted goggles, for her real eye size.
Hansel’s heart pounded loudly in her chest.
One wolf. Multiple men.
Was there even a point in comparing which was worse?
She had to escape.
The moment Hansel turned her body, one of the hunters grabbed her hair. At the same time, a rough, gloved hand clamped down on her soft chest.
“Let go of me…!”
As she struggled, wham! A dull, sickening noise echoed.
The hunter pressing against her back suddenly went limp, collapsing onto Hansel. The sheer weight of his body caused her to topple backward with a thud.
Something like hail rained down in clumps. Then came the scent of blood.
Pinned beneath the hunter’s body, Hansel realized with horror that the ‘hail’ was pieces of flesh. The hunter who had grabbed her hair had been blown apart into fragments.
Someone had popped the hunter’s head like a balloon.
The realization hit her simultaneously with the sweet aroma filling the air. A sugary scent, like freshly baked confections.
“Damn it! That smell—it’s the Witch of the Gingerbread House!”
“We’re not even mages—why is the witch coming after us?!”
Panic erupted among the hunters as they saw their comrade reduced to a corpse in the blink of an eye.
Hansel, pinned beneath the lifeless body, couldn’t move an inch. She clawed helplessly at the dirt and grass, trying to push the weight off her. Finally, she lifted her head and saw a distant figure.
Standing subtly among the foliage, the figure was hidden from the hunters’ view, but Hansel could see them clearly through her enchanted goggles.
“P-Please help me…”
She didn’t know if the figure would harm her or save her, but she reached out desperately, like grabbing for a lifeline.
“Save me. Please, I’m begging you…”
Wham.
As if responding to her plea, another deafening burst rang out. More flesh rained down as another hunter collapsed with a thud.
Wham. Thud. Wham. Thud.
The horrifying sounds came with an almost rhythmic unpredictability. Trembling beneath the corpse, Hansel could think only one thing.
I’m scared. I don’t want to die.
She didn’t know how much time had passed before another hunter fell with a loud crash in front of her. His head was half-shattered, one eye bulging grotesquely, and his lifeless face landed mere inches from hers.
That was it. She had reached her limit.
Her vision blurred and spun. Her ears were muffled, as though submerged underwater, and slow footsteps echoed faintly through the haze.
The sweet scent intensified, cloying and overpowering like sticking her face into a pot of boiling sugar.
Hansel stiffly raised her neck, her gaze crawling upward from the black shoes that crushed the dead grass, to the gray robe cloaking the figure entirely.
He scanned the blood-soaked clearing like a predator surveying its territory. His gaze then turned to Hansel, looking down at her.
Finally, the figure pulled back his hood, revealing crimson eyes glowing faintly in the shadows. His gaze was detached, as if observing a pebble kicked underfoot.
“You…”
A deep, rumbling voice emerged, resonating through Hansel’s chest. The oppressive weight of his presence made her instinctively hold her breath.
“Why are you still alive?”
Her jaw trembled uncontrollably, her teeth chattering. The overwhelming fear robbed her of even the ability to cry for help.
All Hansel could do was stare at him desperately.
“I killed everyone closest first, so you should have been the first to die.”
For the first time, emotion flickered in his eyes—hostility, or perhaps murderous intent. The kind of emotion that could only be described as malevolent.
She had to say something. Somewhere deep in her mind, a primal instinct screamed at her to protest.
As Hansel struggled to move her stiff jaw and force out words, he crouched down abruptly.
In a flash, his large, gloved hand covered her face.
What happened next, Hansel could not say. Her vision went black, and her consciousness slipped away entirely.
