Stop Hypnotizing Me, Villainous Princess!

Chapter 160: The Battle Between Two Women, the Dog Pays the Price

Unlike the descents of the Creation Demon or the King of Malice, Kushustain, the Witch of the End’s arrival was almost imperceptible. If Lynn still retained his consciousness, he would have noticed how her presence brought no sound, no fanfare—it was as if she had never arrived at all.

And yet, the sheer difference in essence and rank instantly triggered Yveste’s instincts, sending an alarm surging through her mind.

In that fleeting moment, she lifted her head, breaking apart the lips that had been entangled just moments earlier.

A silver thread glistened as it fell between them, and the once blank-faced black-haired youth slowly opened his eyes.

The blue of Lynn’s irises was gone.

In their place was a crimson hue identical to Yveste’s—only deeper, more vivid, and far more terrifying.

“Smack!”

Before Yveste could react, the person she had just been holding so closely—“Lynn”—seemed to transform entirely from the inside out.

Under Yveste’s stunned gaze, “he” raised a cold hand and gripped her throat tightly.

An overwhelming force crushed down on her instantly.

The moment Yveste grasped what had happened, her crimson eyes burned with a palpable killing intent.

Perhaps it was the unspoken understanding shared by those who were essentially the same person, but they both opened their mouths to speak at the exact same time.

“Get out of his body!!!”

“From now on, you’re forbidden from touching him again.”

“Damn it...”

“...you wretched woman!!!”

They spoke in unison.

One voice was frantic, seething with rage.

The other was cold, detached, and emotionless.

Although their tones were strikingly similar, the feelings they conveyed couldn’t have been more different.

Of course, the final insult was Yveste’s contribution—someone like the Witch of the End would never stoop to using such vulgar language.

The two pairs of crimson eyes, each charged with a swirl of emotions, locked in mid-air.

At this moment, it was Yveste who seemed more unhinged.

She had assumed that the Witch had some other means of descending upon this place.

But never in her wildest dreams did she imagine the Witch would possess her adorable little dog’s body to do it!

Damn it!

Regret churned in Yveste’s chest as she cursed her earlier decision.

After all, even she hadn’t done something so intimate with Lynn yet!

This was… the ultimate form of closeness—beyond mere physical intimacy. It was the melding of spirit and flesh!

The thought of that wretched woman perfectly occupying her little dog’s body made Yveste seethe with jealousy, so much so that she nearly lost her mind.

Despite the iron grip of the Witch’s immense power on her throat, Yveste knew this moment in time was not ten thousand years in the future.

The body the Witch had taken over was only a Second-Rank vessel.

Realizing this, Yveste instinctively raised her hand, crimson light gathering in her palm, prepared to clash with her future self.

However, the Witch of the End remained as cold and indifferent as ever, gazing at Yveste with a look of condescension and mockery.

That gaze struck Yveste straight in the heart, awakening the deep-seated inferiority she had buried within her.

In an instant, she froze, clarity overtaking her boiling emotions.

Her hand, raised high in the air, slowly fell.

For a long moment, Yveste clenched her fist tightly, suppressing her anger and killing intent.

Calm down.

Using the same crude, forceful tactics as before would never win back her little dog’s heart.

Only love could bridge the seemingly insurmountable gap between them.

As this thought settled in her mind, Yveste’s gaze steadied.

She allowed the Witch’s grip to remain on her throat, submitting like a lamb awaiting slaughter.

Seeing this, the Witch frowned imperceptibly.

In the next moment, an invisible force erupted from Lynn’s body, lifting Yveste and hurling her across the room with bone-crushing force.

She crashed into the far wall, the impact shattering it and burying her beneath the rubble.

At the same time, a silent force field expanded, enveloping the entire room.

To anyone else in the Bartleon Estate, it was just another quiet night.

But for Yveste and the Witch of the End, it was anything but.

The Witch’s gaze remained devoid of pity as she stared at the rubble where Yveste lay.

She had told Lynn before—her feelings toward her past self were nothing but hatred.

Hatred for her weakness.

Hatred for her hysteria.

Hatred for her inability to accomplish anything.

And now, her past self had the audacity to challenge her for ownership of her follower.

It was intolerable.

Even if this descent left her weakened for a long time, the Witch had no regrets.

Her past self needed to learn a lesson.

This was her resolve.

“Why didn’t you fight back?”

The Witch’s voice, cold as ice, pierced the silence as she gazed down at Yveste.

Buried under the rubble, Yveste’s dress was torn, her face pale, and a faint trace of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. She looked fragile, almost pitiful.

But her crimson eyes shone brightly.

Lifting her head to look at the youth’s body before her, Yveste’s lips curled into a radiant smile, her gaze filled with obsession and tenderness.

“You’re using his body,” she whispered, coughing lightly as she tried to lift a hand to touch his face. “Even if you kill me, I would never harm him in the slightest.”

But the moment her hand rose, the Witch’s power pinned it back to the ground.

Yveste, a Sixth-Rank Demigod capable of overpowering the elites in the Council Hall within moments, now seemed utterly helpless against her future self.

Even with the Witch’s current limitations—only possessing a Second-Rank body and weakened by the ten-thousand-year temporal gap—she remained the ultimate villain who could hunt gods themselves: The Witch of the End.

Of course, how much of this imbalance was due to Yveste deliberately holding back remained uncertain.

The Witch of the End’s expression remained as cold as ice.

She had intended to use her memories of the future to see what tricks this woman was plotting. After all, Yveste possessed the strength of a Sixth-Rank Demigod and, thanks to Lynn’s interference with fate, was far stronger than the Witch herself had been at this point in the timeline.

Even if Yveste couldn’t match her future self, she shouldn’t have been defeated so effortlessly.

Knowing herself all too well, the Witch surmised that her past self was most likely brewing some foolish scheme.

However, the current situation involved Lynn.

Because of Lynn’s unique nature, the Witch of the End could not glimpse any future events tied to him.

Thus, she could not discern her past self’s true intentions.

Seemingly aware of this hesitation, a trace of realization flickered in Yveste’s eyes.

As expected, she had guessed correctly.

By binding herself and Lynn together in this manner, not even this wretched woman could use future memories to peer into her thoughts.

In an instant, the balance of power shifted in Yveste’s favor.

But it still wasn’t enough.

With her mind already set on a plan, Yveste’s expression dimmed slightly.

“You… are so strong.”

For some reason, she said these words, her voice soft and melancholy.

The Witch of the End remained silent, her gaze cold and detached as it rested on Yveste.

“You’re more beautiful than me, far stronger than me, and your heart is far more resolute than mine,” Yveste said with a bitter smile that carried a trace of sorrow. “In every way, I’m no match for you.”

“Even my beloved little dog was mercilessly taken away by you.”

Yveste curled into herself, her figure exuding sadness.

Under the moonlight, her crimson eyes shimmered with a faint mist, stirring an unexplainable pang in the heart.

“Despite having so much already, why do you stoop to such despicable means as memory manipulation to steal the thing I treasure most?”

“Is it just to prove that you’re better than me? Fine, I surrender, okay?”

“I beg you… please…”

“Please… give me back my little dog. Please…”

For the first time, the usually proud and majestic Princess Yveste displayed an extraordinary level of vulnerability in front of the Witch of the End.

It was as if she had forgotten her relentless determination to never lose to this woman.

Her voice even carried a faint, choking sob, resembling a child whose favorite toy had been snatched away.

But to the Witch of the End, this scene seemed excessively contrived.

She frowned.

“You truly are irredeemably pathetic.”

“While I can’t say for certain what underhanded trick you’re plotting, there’s something you seem to have forgotten.”

“In the face of absolute power, no scheme or strategy can succeed.”

At this moment, the overwhelming aura unique to the supreme deity surged forth, pressing Yveste further into despair.

The Witch slowly approached her, her gaze devoid of pity.

“Did you think that just because you’re my past self, you’re entitled to do as you please?”

“Did you really think… I wouldn’t dare to kill you?”

“You’re right. I won’t kill you,” the Witch said, looking down at her condescendingly. “After all, if you die, I cease to exist.”

“However…” Her tone turned sharp. “Some unconventional methods may still work.”

“As fate originally dictated, you were meant to absorb the Wishing Jar and its new traits, only to fall into slumber once more. But thanks to him, that hopeless future was altered.”

“Now, it seems that such changes might not be to my liking after all.”

The Witch’s intent became apparent.

Yveste’s earlier vulnerability vanished in an instant, replaced by a fierce, unprecedented killing intent.

The Witch of the End’s icy demeanor remained unchanged as she issued her final ultimatum.

“If you dare lay a hand on my follower again, I will rewrite your fate to what it should have been.”

“For instance… I’ll find another Level-0 Sealed Artifact and let it completely devour you, forcing you into a deep slumber for two or three years.”

“And after that, I’ll take him away forever.”

As she contemplated this possibility, a flicker of emotion passed through the Witch’s usually cold eyes.

“Even if I can no longer alter the past to change the future… even if the ultimate outcome is death… spending a brief, beautiful moment with him before the end would be worth it.”

“How much time remains until the Sword of Damocles falls? A thousand years? Two thousand? Or longer?”

Who said the Witch of the End couldn’t hurl insults?

The venom in her words far surpassed any crude curse.

“Try it, then. If you’re capable, go ahead and give it a shot,” Yveste replied, her voice eerily calm but laced with bone-chilling frost.

In that moment, she no longer hid her strength.

Behind her, a crimson door silently opened, and countless corpses floated along a river of blood that slowly seeped through.

“Your descent, spanning ten thousand years, must have weakened you far more than you realize,” Yveste said as she rose to her feet. The pallor in her face vanished, replaced by a healthy flush as her aura surged dramatically.

“I’m genuinely curious—what gives you the gall to act so high and mighty in front of me?”

“The future can’t kill the past, but perhaps the past can kill the future.”

The Witch of the End didn’t reply. Her expression remained calm and composed.

In the next instant, the two disappeared simultaneously, vanishing into the crimson door born from Yveste’s body.

When Lynn finally awoke from his unconscious state, his entire body ached.

Not only that, but the vibrant energy of his spiritual world had been drained completely, leaving it empty and desolate.

It felt as though he had just endured an enormous battle—one that would require several days of rest to recover from fully.

A Sudden Descent

The Witch of the End had descended so suddenly that Lynn hadn’t been prepared in the slightest.

Sitting in his room, he rubbed his temples, silently grumbling about what had just transpired.

Looking around, he found his room in pristine condition. For someone who had lost consciousness, he knew nothing about what had happened after that point.

He had assumed that waking up would mean facing a scene of utter destruction at the Bartleon Estate, or perhaps even news of chaos across Glostein.

Yet, to his shock, the room was clean, orderly, and bright, as if the clash between the two women had never occurred.

Yveste was nowhere to be found.

She had left, leaving him alone in the room.

This doesn’t make sense.

Lynn was overcome with confusion, so strong it was nearly unbearable.

He couldn’t imagine a scenario where the two women had sat down and peacefully discussed matters like old friends. The life-or-death confrontation he had expected was the only “logical” development.

With that thought in mind, he instinctively stood up and began pacing around the room, as if searching for any trace of repaired ruins.

But no matter where he looked, he found nothing.

Instead, something unusual caught his eye in a corner of the room—a pristine, unblemished Recording Stone.

Why is this here?

The object’s sudden and inexplicable appearance only deepened his confusion.

For a moment, Lynn even wondered if this was something Yveste had deliberately planted—perhaps to record moments of affection between them.

But as he channeled his Extraordinary power into the Recording Stone, a vivid image unfolded before him.

Lynn’s expression immediately stiffened.

The image depicted none other than himself, possessed by the Witch of the End, towering over Yveste, who had been knocked to the ground.

In the recording, Yveste, who should have been formidable and defiant, instead displayed a rare, vulnerable expression.

The conversation that followed echoed in his ears.

“You’re using… his body,” Yveste’s trembling voice said. “Even if it costs me my life, I would never hurt him.”

…

“You… are so strong.”

“You’re more beautiful than me, your power and resolve are far beyond mine. In every way, I fall short compared to you.”

“Even my beloved little dog… was ruthlessly taken from me by you.”

…

“Despite having so much already, why did you need to use something as despicable as memory manipulation to steal the thing I cherish most?”

“Was it just to prove you’re better than me? Fine, I surrender, okay?”

…

“I beg you… please…”

“Please… give me back my little dog.”

The woman’s tearful voice echoed in Lynn’s ears, her words filled with pleading.

Seeing Yveste’s uncharacteristic vulnerability, his heart skipped a beat.

But in stark contrast, the Witch of the End’s expression remained icy and indifferent.

It was as if… she had silently acknowledged everything Yveste had just said.

Memory manipulation?

That’s impossible!

The notion struck Lynn as absurd, and yet…

A Calculating Smile

Standing outside the door, Yveste leaned against the wall.

She had sensed the surge of power from the activated Recording Stone and couldn’t help but smirk triumphantly, her lips curling into a satisfied grin.

Ever since her Dragonfield Enlightenment during the events of the Chronicles of Xino, Yveste’s personality and mindset had undergone a complete transformation.

Though her pathological possessiveness lingered, she was no longer the same woman prone to mindless rage.

Stronger than me? Higher rank?

Even if all of that is true… so what?

Yveste thought to herself.

I’m not here to compete for some meaningless title of “number one.”

I only care about securing a heavier weight in my dog’s heart.

That wretched woman chose the wrong path from the very beginning.

At this moment, Yveste’s lips were stained with blood, her face pale, and her aura faint—proof of the narrow loss she had suffered in her confrontation with the Witch of the End.

But despite her physical state, she felt no anger.

In fact, she was overjoyed.

The clash had also confirmed something she had long suspected—the nature of the cursed sigil on her face.

That was why she had insisted on meeting the Witch tonight.

Recalling Saint Roland VI’s earlier promise, Yveste pursed her lips.

Perhaps it won’t be long before my appearance is completely restored.

When that happens, he’ll definitely be happy, won’t he?

With that, she felt as though the gap between her and her future self had narrowed just a little.

And as for the bond between her and Lynn? It was already so deep that no one could ever come between them—bound together by hypnosis, and by fate itself.

Meanwhile, at the Silent Church

Deep into the night, at the Holy Maiden’s Prayer Hall within the Silent Church, Tiya sat by a silver candlestick, dressed in a silk nightgown.

She carefully studied an ancient, esoteric tome, preparing herself for tomorrow night’s banquet.

A Hidden Plan

Tiya meticulously considered every possible outcome.

Even the possibility that Lynn might choose to hide something from her had crossed her mind.

If he truly dared to do so, she was prepared to use less gentle methods to force him into compliance.

For instance… hypnosis, or even direct mental control.

“Knock, knock, knock!”

Just then, a soft knock came at the door, followed by the voice of a nun calling from the hallway.

Startled, Tiya instinctively closed the forbidden tome in her hands, hurriedly tucking it into a drawer before walking toward the door.

But in the spot just out of her sight, a yellowed piece of paper slipped from between the pages of the book and floated silently to the floor.

The paper bore an ancient, esoteric, and mysterious sigil, faintly glowing with a greenish hue.

It resembled… the Eye of the Mind, capable of bending the will of others to its own.

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