Greenland. That explained the endless snow, the biting cold, and the way the wind cut through me like a blade despite my warming charms.
The year was 1525 — Early Modern Era. The world was still young, still raw. Superheroes, demigods, and city-saving vigilantes were centuries away. Now, this era belonged to ancient demons, dimension lords, gods, and other things best left unspoken.
I rubbed my chin thoughtfully.
I could go to Kamar-Taj and try to compete with the Ancient One to become Sorceress Supreme, but… no. That would be beneath me.
After all:
Sorcerers can only channel magic from other dimensions.
Me? I generate magic internally — unlimited energy, infinite versatility.
Sorcerers focus on one type of magic, mastering their discipline.
Me? I could master all types of magic from every conceivable universe. Fire, water, chaos, divine, elemental, curse, soul, shadow, blood, summoning — everything.
Competing with sorcerers would be a waste of time. I could surpass them effortlessly. But I didn't want their path. I wanted something my own. Something independent, untethered.
I wanted to become a witch.
A witch with her own base of power, her own domain, a tower to call her own.And for that… I needed a tower of legend.
I pulled the first book from my dimensional library: "Magical Towers: Construction, Enchantments, and Rituals Across Realities".A hundred pages later, I knew exactly what to do:
Choose the perfect location — isolated, yet magically connected.
Build using enchanted obsidian and reinforced with dimensional wards.
Install rituals that could amplify magic, protect against intrusions, and even manipulate reality locally.
Fill it with layers, hidden chambers, summoning circles, artifact vaults, and dimensional libraries of my own.
I smiled. A black tower rising from the snow, glowing faintly with magical energy. My Obsidian Tower.
Titles were tricky. The Scarlet Witch of the Red Tower? Too tied to someone else. The Witch of the Great Tower? Too vague.
No. This needed weight. Mystery. Presence.
"The Witch of the Obsidian Tower," I murmured aloud. It sounded right. Dangerous. Respected. Feared, even.
But I had to earn it. Simply building the tower wouldn't be enough. Rituals, spells, and magical presence would naturally announce me to the magical world over time. Eventually, my tower would be legendary, and the title would follow.
I ran through my plans:
First, locate the ideal site — somewhere connected to ley lines, with access to natural magical energies.
Second, gather materials — enchanted obsidian, dimensional timber, enchanted metals, and rare magical crystals.
Third, create protective wards, enchantments, and the core summoning circles.
Fourth, start the construction with rituals that would grow the tower magically even as time passed.
And then… I'd establish myself.The witch who walks between worlds, commands magic from all realities, and builds her domain far above mortal understanding.
Yes. This was going to be perfect.
"The Witch of the Obsidian Tower," I whispered again, grinning.Not just a title. A statement. A legend in the making.
Now… all that was left was the first step: finding the perfect spot in the frozen expanse of Greenland.
The snow didn't bother me anymore. Not when the world itself would soon bend to my magic.