A gift that cannot be delivered has no value.
Taking the opportunity to discard it, so I won't have to carry it with me anymore.
Orenna thought coldly, holding down her aching heart and coughing softly, continuing to walk through the desolate ruins, the broken cities; sometimes she was a doctor healing the sick, sometimes she was a soldier guarding the refuge, and sometimes she entered chaotic areas, becoming a nightmare for many.
The damaged Witch's Heart was hard to repair, no matter how she used magic, she couldn't fully heal herself—ever since Roy died, night after night, Orenna had endured heart-wrenching pain. No one knew about this, and she didn't want anyone to know.
One hundred years, two hundred years.
The continent gradually lost sight of the witch Orenna.
She disappeared like a gray shadow, silently and without a trace. Her name was no longer known.
