Miss Witch Doesn’t Want to Become a Songstress

The howling wind rustled the curtains. The hot air from the wilderness carried the scent of dry grass and arid soil. Despite the heat, the swift-moving air left her body feeling refreshed.

Once again boarding the high-speed train to another district, Hestia gazed at the scenery outside the window. The desolate earth reflected a blinding white under the scorching sun. The gray desert and scattered rocks stretched endlessly toward the horizon, where faint mountains loomed, like colossal terrestrial steps stacking layer upon layer.

Every time she ventured far, the grandeur of this planet’s landscapes left her in awe. Shaking her head, the girl couldn’t help but marvel at how small Arpeggio City seemed in comparison.

Since this train was heading to the Northern 2nd District, there were few passengers onboard. Hestia had no one seated beside her or in the rows ahead or behind. Only the wind occasionally stirred the curtains and the fabric on the chair backs, producing soft rustling sounds.

She looked around. This train had likely been in service for decades, exuding a rugged, industrial style. Exposed steel rivet structures were visible, and the floor was made of textured steel panels.

The extensive use of steel streamlined construction, eliminating complex and decorative elements, thus significantly reducing manufacturing costs and time. As for passenger comfort, the soft sponge-covered seats were already a generous compromise.

The stainless-steel tabletop felt warm to the touch under the hot wind and sunlight. Hestia rummaged through her bag and pulled out a brochure introducing Thousand Towers City, which she had obtained from a travel agency in Arpeggio City. However, she had opted not to join a tour group to maintain her freedom.

The train sped through the vast wilderness, steadily advancing northward. The warm breeze from the window gradually cooled, and the intense summer heat began to dissipate.

The train ascended the tiered mountain ranges, as if drawing closer to the sky. The scenery ahead grew brighter while the land behind faded into a distant, diminutive expanse, resembling a view from a skyscraper overlooking the ground below.

In just moments, the train leveled off, ceasing its climb. Ahead stretched an expansive plain where towering buildings stood like mountains. Some rose only tens of meters, while others reached hundreds, their peaks shrouded in clouds and obscured.

An AI announcement echoed in the carriage as two semi-circular autonomous units moved through the aisles, checking on sleeping or unwell passengers.

As the train passed through these massive skyscrapers, the sky seemed to darken. The carriage’s sensor lights turned on, casting yellow V-shaped guide symbols on the floor.

Hestia raised her head, gazing at the towering structures outside the window. Most were abandoned, their outer walls crumbling and exposed. Moss and rust stains adorned some windows and rooftop spacecraft entry points.

What once were resplendent golden eaves were now dim and dusty, with some tiles broken off to reveal the underlying concrete and steel structure. The enormous windows, with their fractured turquoise glass, reflected the bright sky, radiating a profound sense of desolation.

The train glided through the shadows of the skyscrapers before a massive dry riverbed suddenly came into view. The river, several kilometers wide, had long since dried up. Its cracked and fractured floor was traversed by a long railway track that snaked through it, leading to the opposite bank where a city resembling a ship’s sail rose like a monument of antiquity.

As the train descended into the riverbed, Hestia glimpsed a colossal broken bridge through the opposite window. The bridge, nearly 300 meters tall and extraordinarily wide, jutted out from Thousand Towers City. It fractured mid-span, exposing jagged steel reinforcements like the sinews of a skeletal beast. The remaining half of the bridge had collapsed, its ruins of steel and concrete littering the riverbed, reminiscent of the severed head of a giant dragon, its body lying desolate on the arid riverbed.

Crossing the lengthy riverbed, the train ascended once more, entering the flat plains within Thousand Towers City.

Compared to the desolation outside, the city showed faint signs of habitation. Hestia noticed people living in some of the abandoned and damaged buildings. They had covered windows with plastic and nailed up wooden boards, leaving only small ventilation openings. Through the gaps in these makeshift covers, she glimpsed the cluttered interiors.

Gradually, even the ruins became lively. Vendors pushing carts appeared on the streets, selling simple, home-cooked foods. Most dishes were fried, as boiling was less effective due to the high-altitude, which lowered water’s boiling point to about 85°C.

As the train slowed, weaving through the forest-like skyscrapers, the lights inside the carriages shifted with the changing brightness outside. Eventually, the train came to a halt.

The yellow display panels in the carriage alternated between two bold lines of text. Steam hissed, and the doors opened slowly, allowing the sparse passengers to disembark.

Stepping onto the slightly cool ground, Hestia felt a chill in the air that was absent in the sweltering Arpeggio City.

Soon, groups from travel agencies gathered in front of the station. Hestia joined them briefly to get a general sense of their itinerary and direction.

“During the Mid-July Flowing Fire Festival, which lasts for seven days, Thousand Towers City will host grand parades. The events include offering incense, summoning gods, city tours, spectacular dances, vocal tributes, sending off the deceased, and military salutes,” explained the travel agency guide. Hestia listened to part of the plan.

Afterward, she left the groups and wandered into the sprawling forest of steel on her own.

Many skyscrapers lining the roads were abandoned, but their lower levels—up to the third floor—were still in use. Numerous shops were open, their neon signs gleaming brightly amidst the gray concrete and steel, exuding a vibrant energy.

A light drizzle fell from the sky. Though it was faint, it slightly dampened Hestia’s hair. She quickened her pace across the broad streets and entered a small shop on the other side.

The modest shop was filled with handcrafted ornaments—jade, bloodstone, agate, and even specially treated coal stones. The lone shopkeeper was busy carving in the corner. Upon hearing footsteps, he said without looking up, “Browse first. Pay after you decide.”

Hestia surveyed the 20-square-meter space, its red-string-suspended pendants swaying gently and colliding with a crisp tinkling sound.

The pendants featured carvings of animals, letters, planetary symbols, film characters, and short inscriptions. Their variety was impressive, seemingly catering to every taste.

As she admired the pieces, something brushed lightly against her ankle—her large spider companion remained hidden but made its presence felt. Fortunately, it stayed concealed, unnoticed by others.

“How much is this?” she asked.

While she didn’t necessarily plan to wear it, Hestia wanted to take something as a keepsake. Carefully, she picked a pendant made of green turquoise with floral carvings and approached the counter.

The shopkeeper finally put down his tools and magnifying glasses, glancing up at her.

“Forty-five Federal Credits,” he said—a surprisingly modest price, barely enough for a decent meal.

The girl was slightly surprised and asked how to make the payment.

“Payment? Looks like you’re not a local,” the shopkeeper said, shaking his head. He rummaged in the corner and pulled out an old, outdated cash register box, setting the amount.

“If you use this, it’s 100 Federal Credits,” he explained, handing over the box.

“Why is it so much more expensive?” Hestia asked, confused. The man simply shook his head, unwilling to elaborate.

Faced with this unhelpful response, Hestia reluctantly paid the amount. Although 100 Federal Credits wasn’t a huge sum, it still left her feeling a bit disgruntled.

As she was leaving, the shopkeeper called out behind her, “If you’re a tourist, you might want to exchange for a local card. It’ll save you a lot of trouble and money.”

After saying this, he waved her off, signaling her to stop bothering him, and returned to his carving work.

Walking down the street, Hestia continued to explore the local shops and attractions. Besides stores selling daily necessities, there were also numerous specialty shops offering items like jade accessories, traditional garments, incense burners, and painted fans. Occasionally, she even spotted shops selling cold weapons.

In an era dominated by automated weapons in interstellar space, cold weapons had mostly lost their practical use. However, many enthusiasts still cherished them, and some energy-based swords and unique weaponry in the Federation still drew inspiration from these traditional designs, serving as training tools.

As she wandered through the shops, Hestia marveled at the variety of handcrafted items. These ranged from small wooden combs and folding fans to larger furniture and sculptures. Intricately woven bamboo crafts particularly caught the attention of visiting tourists.

Looking at these unfamiliar yet nostalgic items, Hestia was reminded of her mother, who had once tried her hand at crafting such things. However, her mother, having grown up in a pampered environment, wasn’t very skilled at handiwork and had even been teased by her father for it. Eventually, she gave up on the hobby altogether.

Following the path taken by other tourists to Thousand Towers City, Hestia strolled along the damp and cool main street, unknowingly walking until it was around 2 p.m. Her stomach growled, reminding her to find something to eat.

“Time to grab a meal,” she murmured, nudging the large spider hidden at her side with her ankle. She headed toward a clearly marked restaurant.

The establishment had a large signboard extending over the street, displaying colorful neon letters that seemed a bit garish. Similar signs were scattered all over the street, adding a lively flair to the area.

Small AI units floated across the sky above the street, carrying various small items. These outdated models were painted in orange and black, with visible exposed components and the occasional spark of electricity, a stark contrast to modern designs.

“Only in ground-level cities like this would you see so many of these small floating units,” Hestia thought, comparing it to Arpeggio City. Being an underground metropolis, space there was limited, leaving no room for such chaotic floating devices, which would obstruct the paths of hover cars. Hence, deliveries in Arpeggio City relied on ground-based vehicles or wheeled AI units.

As she approached the restaurant, Hestia was distracted by a small food stall along the street.

Inside, a noodle chef skillfully used a mechanical arm to spin dough rapidly, while his other hand added various seasonings to the mixture. The dough was then tossed into the air and landed on a cutting board with a slap. His mechanical arm transformed into a knife, slicing the dough into evenly-sized portions.

Once the perfect square pieces of dough were formed, cheers erupted from the crowd of onlookers, most of whom were tourists marveling at this ancient technique and anticipating the chef’s next move.

The chef’s mechanical arm morphed again, flattening the dough into thin pancakes before attaching them to the surface of a large, glowing metal frog. The red-hot surface baked the pancakes quickly, causing them to puff up and turn golden brown at the edges. The aroma of roasted flour and sesame wafted through the air.

Using his heat-resistant mechanical arm, the chef skillfully removed the pancakes one by one, stacking them neatly on the table and placing a small price sign next to them.

Although the price wasn’t cheap, many tourists were willing to pay for the novelty. Hestia joined the queue and bought herself one.

Taking a small bite, she was immediately enveloped by the savory aroma, though the filling was so hot she had to stick out her tongue to cool it.

Feeling tired from walking, Hestia decided to skip the restaurant for now. She found a relatively clean stone post on the street and sat down to eat her pancake, occasionally tearing off small pieces to feed the hungry spider hidden in the shadows. It accepted the offering without complaint, unfazed by the vegetarian fare.

Above the dim sky, a low rumbling sound signaled the descent of a large spacecraft through the clouds, shrouded in smoke and mist. It was likely carrying travelers from other star regions.

The city was gradually coming alive, with distant, resonant bells echoing across the area.

In the heart of Thousand Towers City, out of Hestia’s sight, rows of red banners with black calligraphy inscribed with blessings hung densely above streets and alleys. Swaying in the damp breeze, they resembled a sea of crimson waves.

Beneath the cascading red banners stood a solemn crowd of locals, nearly 500,000 strong, all wearing tall hats adorned with fluttering red ribbons. They gazed inward in concentric circles toward a central high altar.

On the altar stood three large cauldrons, each filled with incense sticks as thick as an arm. Dressed in red, green, yellow, black, and white ceremonial robes, the priests knelt and chanted loudly while holding long scrolls inscribed with prayers. As the scrolls floated upward and burned, their ashes scattered into the distance.

“Now begins the incense ceremony!”

“Hah!”

Around the altar, warriors painted in vivid blue and red patterns rose from their crouches. Clad in ornate armor and carrying weapons like spears, sabers, and maces, their movements caused their metal scales and ornaments to clink melodiously.

Floating AI units guided the path ahead as these vibrantly armored “divine generals” escorted a palanquin draped in layers of red silk down the main street.

At every doorway, incense burners emitted curling smoke, enveloping the street in a fragrant haze. Residents, whether at their doorsteps or windows, offered prayers as the procession passed, the painted divine generals marching with the deliberate rhythm of celestial soldiers on parade.