Miss Witch Doesn’t Want to Become a Songstress

The speeding train roared across the gray-white desert, the vast winds sweeping through the endless barren landscape under the blazing sun. The open windows let in gusts of wind that whipped through the cabin, rustling the white curtains. The rushing air seemed to stir the passengers’ hearts, filling them with a boundless sense of grandeur.

This was a special train heading to Northern 1st District. Onboard were recent graduates, all on their way to take entrance exams for the prestigious schools in the region, exams that would determine their futures.

Today, Hestia was among them. The rushing wind tugged at her hair, sunlight filtering through in delicate, shimmering patterns, resembling ripples of light on water. Her pale pink nails glistened translucently under the sun as she gently traced the identity badge in her hand. She gazed out at the distant, expansive wilderness, captivated by the vast and desolate beauty of the world.

The northern reaches of the Verdant Veil were home to many such barren deserts, stretching endlessly with only sparse desert flora breaking the monotony.

It was said that centuries ago, this area had been covered with grasslands and forests. However, those lush landscapes were destroyed by toxic rain. Without vegetation to anchor the soil, the land turned to sand over the years, eventually becoming the arid desert it is today—scorching and empty.

The train sped forward, departing at dawn and traversing various zones: the desolate Northern 6th District, the rugged and mountainous Northern 5th District, the flat and sparsely vegetated Northern 4th District, the half-land, half-lake Northern 3rd District, and the rusty, industrial wasteland of Northern 2nd District. Finally, it reached the grand canyon of Northern 1st District, a place where towering mountains and deep valleys coexisted, packed with cities and teeming with people—the hub of northern civilization.

Here, thousand-meter peaks pierced the clouds, their gray-white surfaces jagged with rocky ridges and fissures, a classic glacial terrain. Midway down the mountains, lush evergreen forests blanketed the slopes, their hues shifting between yellow and green. Lower still, tender, vibrant meadows began to appear.

The colossal mountains surrounding the canyon shielded it from harsh winds and corrosive toxic rain, preserving a unique and thriving world within. Nestled against the mountain walls were numerous cities, overlooking this breathtaking landscape shrouded in mist and clouds.

About a third of the northern hemisphere’s population resided in Northern 1st District, one of the few regions with a pleasant climate.

As Hestia stepped off the train, she stood in the wide mountain base plaza, tilting her head back to take in the towering peaks before her. The steep mountain tops seemed to loom perilously, as though they might collapse at any moment, instilling a primal urge to flee their shadow.

Sunlight streamed through the gaps between two massive peaks. Hovering vehicles weaved through the mountains, while tracks circled the mid-slopes, carrying rumbling freight trains.

In the sky above, massive white ships occasionally ascended or descended, casting fleeting shadows over the blue expanse. Some vanished behind distant peaks, while others flew out over the desert plains, heading toward the setting sun and dwindling into tiny black dots.

Walking among these majestic mountains, Hestia felt her heart expand, as if she never wanted to return to the oppressive, stifling underground city.

No wonder her classmates dreamed of studying and living in Northern 1st District, she thought.

And this was just Northern 1st District. It was said that Southern 1st District was even more prosperous and beautiful—a vision beyond imagination.

Following the directions on her personal terminal, Hestia crossed the enormous crossroads plaza and ascended a set of steps. The steps resembled the grand entrances of ancient theaters, spanning hundreds of meters and adorned with lamp posts. After several turns, she arrived at a large observation platform halfway up the mountain.

From this vantage point, she could look down on the vast plaza below, where the people appeared no larger than ants. Hovercars occasionally glided through the air between the platforms.

[Head straight 620 meters at 2 o’clock to find the 8192 Line station. Take the train for 49 stops and disembark at Wolfbane Peak Station…]

Following the instructions, Hestia climbed further and soon spotted the red station nestled on the mountainside. Its smooth red-glazed exterior, dark gold transparent metal corridors, and windows gleamed in the sunlight. Entering the station, she stepped onto floating square platforms, which moved automatically once she held onto a handle, taking her to her destination.

At the boarding point, Hestia stepped off the platform and waited patiently alongside a group of others, many of whom were students like her, likely here for entrance exams as well.

“I wonder if I’ll pass. I’ve been training hard for six months,” a short-haired boy said, flexing his fists. He wore a loose white martial arts uniform with wrist wraps—likely more for show than utility.

“My goal is the only magic academy in the Verdant Veil. O, Month of March, Star of Stars, Alansiluca, Minetranva, sages among the stars, witness my journey as I follow the path of past witches to achieve greatness among the starry tracks,” declared a girl in a black witch’s hat, eyes closed in prayer. She clutched a golden chain pendant in her right hand, her left tracing pale blue patterns in the air that formed intricate sigils.

“If we weren’t childhood friends, I’d pretend I didn’t know you two,” said the third member of their group, a black-haired girl with glasses, who stepped back as if to distance herself from the pair.

“Come on, Taohui, don’t be like that. The three of us promised as kids to become legends together,” the witch-hatted girl said, pulling her reluctant friend closer and hooking her arm around her waist.

“Off we go! Victory is our goal this time!”

“Hoorah!”

Such youthful vitality and enthusiasm, thought Hestia, as she boarded the train with light, buoyant steps.

Compared to these energetic students, she felt like she didn’t belong to the same age group. Her mindset seemed worlds apart—perhaps a result of the harsh survival environment in Arpeggio City, which demanded people abandon dreams and focus solely on competition and pragmatism.

Her middle school peers either worried about future schools and jobs or obsessed over money and scheming, leaving little room for imagination.

Yet, not everyone lived like that. Watching those three students, she couldn’t help but admire their pursuit of life’s romance and possibilities.

The train accelerated along the mountainside, reaching speeds of 500 km/h as it twisted and turned like an ancient roller coaster.

Half an hour later, Hestia stumbled off, slightly dizzy. She stood on a platform carved into the mountainside, its surface impeccably flat as if the mountain had been sliced in half. The platform spanned hundreds of square kilometers, dotted with elegant white buildings and lush greenery.

So this was the Swallow Garden Academy?

She gazed at the massive white archway ahead, its intricate lettering flowing gracefully across its surface. The columns were entwined with delicate crystal blue irises. Students in uniforms of white with fine blue trim passed through the gates, their sapphire bow ties gleaming in the sunlight.

Placing a hand over her chest for encouragement, Hestia stepped forward.

It was time to begin.

You can do this, Hestia.

Don’t let your sister outshine you.