The Witch transported to the Beastman Realm

Chapter One: The Alchemical Anomaly

The air inside the cramped, dimly lit hut was thick with the scent of dried sage, crushed
lavender, and the sharp, metallic tang of desperation.
Jillian Russo sat on the uneven wooden floorboards, pulling her knees to her chest. She was
twenty-four, a witch of considerable talent, yet her current circumstances were overwhelmingly
grim. Her vibrant pink and blue hair fell in loose waves and small braids past her shoulders.
Beneath the brim of a pointed, woven hat decorated with ivy leaves, her large, dark brown eyes
brimmed with unshed tears. Usually, her face was brightened by deep, incredibly endearing
dimples, but today, there was no reason to smile. She wore a green, lace-up velvet dress with
flared sleeves that had seen better days, and multiple leather belts wrapped around her waist,
weighed down by small pouches and various crystals.
Her cupboards were entirely bare. Her coin purse was lighter than air. In a world vastly
overpopulated by powerful, brilliant female witches, standing out was nearly impossible-and
finding love was entirely out of the question. With a ratio that left men as an extreme rarity,
Jillian had long ago resigned herself to a life of solitude, pouring the fierce, aching love in her
heart into the meticulous brewing of her spells. Beside her rested a twisted wooden staff topped
with a large, raw amber crystal, a testament to her dedication to her craft.
But passion alone could not fill an empty stomach.
A sharp pang of hunger twisted her abdomen, causing her to double over. She fell to her knees
in absolute despair, her vision blurring. As she collapsed against her workbench, her elbow
clipped the edge of a precarious wooden shelf.
Time seemed to slow.
Glass vials of volatile, highly concentrated ingredients-crushed moonstone, ground basilisk
fang, and essence of nightshade-tipped over the edge. Jillian gasped, throwing her hands out
to catch them, but it was too late. The vials plummeted directly into her grand cauldron, where a
highly sensitive, long-term transmutation potion had been simmering for weeks.
Hiss. Crackle.
A blinding flash of violet and gold illuminated the tiny hut. Before Jillian could even scream or
reach for her staff, a colossal plume of iridescent smoke erupted from the iron belly of the
cauldron, swallowing the room whole. The air turned violently cold, then blisteringly hot, and the
ground entirely vanished beneath her feet.
The Obsidian Forest
When Jillian finally opened her eyes, the familiar scent of sage and damp wood was gone.
Instead, her lungs filled with the crisp, untamed aroma of ancient pine, rich soil, and ozone.
She pushed herself up, rubbing her throbbing temples. The world around her was vastly
different. She was sitting in the middle of an expansive, strange-looking forest. The trees were
mammoth, their bark a deep, glittering obsidian, and their leaves a luminous shade of violet.
"Where... where am I?" she whispered to herself, clutching her velvet skirts.
Through a break in the massive tree trunks, she spotted a settlement in the distance. It was a
sprawling, rustic village built of heavy timber and stone. Squinting, she tried to make out the
figures moving about the marketplace. Her breath hitched.
They were men. Only men.
But they were not strictly human. Even from a distance, she could see sweeping wings, massive
horns, tufted tails, and hulking, animalistic statures. They were beastmen. She scanned the distant crowd frantically, looking for the familiar silhouette of a woman, a fellow witch, anyone
like her. Perhaps she spotted one, maybe two females, entirely surrounded by protective
contingents of men, but the disparity was staggering.
Before she could process the sociological impossibility of the village, a shadow eclipsed the
sun.
A tremendous gust of wind flattened the violet grass around her. Jillian stumbled backward, her
heart hammering against her ribs. Landing with an earth-shattering thud mere yards away was a
dragon. It was a creature of terrifying majesty and colossal size. Its scales were not a single
hue, but a dazzling, pearlescent mosaic of every color imaginable-shifting from crimson to
sapphire, emerald to gold, with every slight movement.
Jillian's survival instincts flared. She frantically scrambled backward, her hands grazing the dirt.
"Hey! Stay back! Stay back!" she stammered, her voice trembling. "Where am I? There are no
dragons where I exist... this isn't possible!"
The great beast paused. Its massive, slitted eyes blinked slowly, displaying a profound, almost
scholarly confusion.
Then, the creature began to shrink. The blinding pearlescent scales folded inward, the massive
claws retracted, and a brilliant light enveloped its form. When the light faded, standing in the
dragon's place was a man of breathtaking, ethereal beauty. He possessed the refined, sharp
features of aristocracy, but retained magnificent, branching dragon antlers crowned upon his
head, a pair of glittering, scaled wings folded against his broad back, and a long, sweeping tail.
He took a slow, measured step toward her. His voice, when he spoke, was a deep, resonant
baritone that vibrated in her chest.
"You are not from around here, are you, little one?" he asked, his head tilting curiously. "To be
bewildered by my presence is quite strange. Dragons are a remarkably common species of
beastmen in this realm. Though," he added with a hint of quiet pride, "I am an anomaly even
among my own kind. I am the Rainbow Dragon. My scales bear the pearlescence of all
elemental lineages."
Jillian continued to back away, shaking her head vigorously. "I must have passed out. I'm
hallucinating. The potion fumes... I'm in a crazy, hyper-realistic dream."
The dragon-man closed the distance with predatory grace, yet his expression remained
surprisingly gentle. "It is profoundly rare," he murmured, his gaze sweeping over her colorful hair
and intricate clothing, "to see a female wandering the wilds unescorted. To be without a male
guardian-or at the very least, an escort of five-is dangerously reckless."
Jillian blinked, her panic momentarily overridden by sheer bewilderment. "What on earth are you
talking about? Escorts? Where I come from, females are everywhere. We run society."
A rich, melodic laugh erupted from the man's chest. "You truly are a traveler from a distant star.
Here, females are our most sacred and rare treasures. The balance of our world is delicate.
Females here possess a very slow biological rhythm; they can only conceive and give birth once
a year."
Jillian couldn't help it; she let out a sharp, incredulous laugh of her own. "Once a year? That is
completely absurd! I mean, human biology doesn't work like that. My menstrual cycle occurs
once a month."
The dragon-man froze. The elegant wings at his back flared wide in sudden, absolute shock. He
gasped, his composure shattering. "Once a month? Are you... are you speaking the truth?" "Yes?" Jillian nodded, thoroughly perplexed by his dramatic reaction. "I mean, theoretically, I
could get pregnant and give birth in nine months, give or take. Though I suppose I have no idea
how long the gestational period is in whatever dimension this is."
She paused, processing his earlier words about escorts. "Wait. Are you saying it's normal for
women here to have... multiple partners?"
The dragon-man nodded slowly, his eyes now locked onto her with a burning, intense
reverence. "It is not merely normal; it is our biological imperative. The gestational period varies
depending on the species of the beastman sire. But for most, it is a mere four months. If you
truly possess a monthly cycle, and could theoretically bear a litter every four months... you
would be revered as a goddess. You would be the most sought-after female in the entire realm."
He took another step closer, his voice dropping to a velvety timbre. "The only way any male can
secure a mate in our society is to enter into a polyandrous union. We do not mind sharing; in
fact, it is illegal for a female to take only one mate. Such selfishness would lead to the extinction
of our species. There is always a Prime Male-the head of the household whom the female
favors most. The others serve as protectors, providers, and secondary mates. But absolute
harmony is required; the entire clan must be in agreement before a new male is introduced to
her circle."
"Fascinating..." Jillian murmured, the sociological data overriding her fear for a brief moment. "A
legally mandated matriarchal reverse-harem system to ensure species survival. And your name
is?"
The man suddenly realized his lapse in etiquette. He placed a hand over his heart and executed
a deep, flawless bow. "Forgive my egregious lack of manners. I was blinded by your unique
presence. I am Yuki. King of the Dragons."
Jillian's eyes widened, scanning him from the tips of his pearlescent antlers to his clawed boots.
"King of the Dragons... huh. I guess the whole 'rare rainbow scales' thing makes sense now. I
am Jillian Pearl Russo." She glanced around the empty forest clearing. "I'm guessing you have
a female hidden away somewhere in a castle?"
Yuki shook his head, a wistful smile touching his lips. "No. I have waited centuries for the right
female to grace my life. Perhaps..." His eyes darkened with sudden intensity. "...the heavens
have finally answered, dropping you directly into my territory. You bear the garb and aura of a
witch. Yet, that is an absolute impossibility. Witches were hunted to extinction in this realm
centuries ago."
Jillian rubbed the back of her neck, the gravity of her situation crashing down on her like a
physical weight. "Extinct? Oh, perfect. Where I'm from, there's a witch on every corner. This is
so strange." She buried her face in her hands, groaning. "Oh my gods, the potions. Moon-dew,
basilisk fang, and fairy-dust. The resulting explosion must have breached the dimensional veil!
Great job, Jillian. You're stranded in a male-dominated beast realm where you're basically a
mythological creature."
She looked up, her dark brown eyes pleading. "Yuki, please. I have absolutely no idea how to
navigate this world, let alone survive it. I don't know how to get back home. Can you help me?
Please. I will owe you a massive debt."
Yuki's expression softened, and he reached out a hand to gently cup her cheek. "You owe me
nothing, Jillian Pearl Russo. It would be my utmost honor to protect-"
The Cliffhanger Before Yuki could finish his sentence, the ground beneath their feet violently shuddered.
A deafening, blood-curdling howl ripped through the canopy of the obsidian trees, followed by
another, and then dozens more. The sound was so primal, so saturated with aggressive lust and
hunger, that Jillian's blood ran cold.
Yuki's hand whipped away from her face. His ethereal beauty vanished in an instant, replaced
by feral, unyielding wrath. His eyes shifted from their calm hue to a glowing, dangerous crimson.
His pearlescent wings flared to their maximum wingspan, shielding Jillian from the dense
treeline.
"The wind," Yuki snarled, his voice vibrating with a terrifying, draconic echo. "It has shifted."
"What?" Jillian panicked, grabbing the edge of his wing. "What does that mean?"
"Your scent, Jillian," he growled, summoning a massive orb of crackling, iridescent magic into
his palm as the shadows of the forest began to crawl with hundreds of glowing, predatory eyes.
"The scent of an unbonded, ultra-fertile female has just swept across the valley. The Wolf-Kings
of the Northern Wastes are here... and they do not share."