"You've got more important things to deal with right now. No need to bother with this freak," Rodin said, nodding at Jeanne's soul. After confirming that the fallen angel craftsman had no ulterior motives, Bayonetta quickly placed Jeanne's silver pocket watch into her soul, restoring the witch's magic. It took a long moment before Jeanne slowly opened her eyes. Though still in soul form, her expression clearly revealed she wasn't doing well.
"You've never been a morning person, have you?"
"Cereza? You came here to… save me? Are you insane?"
"You're stealing my line," Bayonetta replied, reaching out to pull Jeanne to her feet. In this spiritual plane, soul and flesh were equally tangible. "Come on, I've still got things to do!"
"What's happening to me?" Jeanne clearly hadn't noticed the starlight slowly rising from her own form.
"You need to return to your body," Bayonetta said, pointing at the pocket watch on Jeanne's chest. Magical seals overlapped upon its surface, some of which began activating upon contact with Jeanne's soul. "Solomon's nearby too. Remember to thank him when we get back—he practically dog-paddled through the Kamar-Taj library to find that spell."
"If I even remember it," Jeanne snorted. But her tone quickly softened, concern flashing in her eyes. "Be careful, Cereza. Something… something truly terrifying is going to happen in our world."
"I know. Now go. Don't stop or look back on the way," Bayonetta instructed. "Unless you're sure you've returned to the real world, don't eat anything anyone gives you—including pomegranate seeds." ([A nod to the myth of Persephone])
"I'm not a child!" Jeanne snapped, waving her fists furiously.
Regardless of how she struggled, the magic bound to the pocket watch pulled her along, guiding her soul back toward her physical body. With her task complete, the Butterfly Lady vanished, giving Bayonetta a wave as if to say she'd had a great time—and that it would've been even better if she'd gotten to kill that bald fallen angel too.
Now that Jeanne's soul was recovered, Lady Styx would escort her back to the material plane per their contract. And given the message Solomon had sent, Styx was also curious to visit an old friend in the real world.
With the most critical task complete, the witch finally let out a breath of relief.
To ordinary humans, Rodin's bar served food and drink. To armed clients, he sold civilian-grade firearms. And to deep-world casters, he offered only one thing: magical weapons—expensive, exquisite, and immensely powerful. Few people knew the intricate process behind their creation.
Bayonetta watched Rodin direct his gadget to devour the soul and flesh of Lady Thorns. Once fully consumed, the violet gem set in the weapon's hilt—encased in crimson steel petals—began to glow. That demoness had now become the weapon's core power source and means of attack. It was likely that other weapons had been made the same way, like the massive chainsaw sword currently in the hands of maid Dana. Thanks to Rodin's masterful forging, the devoured soul's malice couldn't affect the wielder.
Rodin pointed toward the massive floating island wrapped in red-black thorns.
Ever since Solomon had gone there, the commotion had only grown louder—flames and lightning frequently lit the gloom, illuminating small islands littered with bones. It was obvious the battle was fierce. Even here, a hundred kilometers away on Thorn Island, the murderous aura was palpable. Rodin figured Solomon had already activated the Stigmata within safe limits. That artifact was blinding to all extradimensional beings—eye-bearing or not. If this dragged on, the entire plane's creatures would gather, and not even the strongest warrior could survive such a horde.
Rodin had no desire to invite that kind of trouble. These days, he was just a humble weaponsmith, focused on his craft. Passion came first.
"They need you over there," the fallen angel craftsman said, tossing the weapon to Bayonetta. His voice held a hint of depth. "Don't forget your new toy. You can pay later. I'm sure you'll earn enough currency in the next fight."
"Where did you get this new weapon, sir?"
The Sage refused to answer.
By now, his mask had been completely shattered by Solomon, revealing the same gray eyes as Bayonetta's, fixed intensely on the Arcanist's face. Solomon swung the boy behind his sacred shroud just in time to dodge a lightning-quick spear thrust. Apparently having grasped the Sage's attack pattern, Solomon handled it with more ease than before. This time, he used far more than just his holy sword—his elbows, knees, shoulders, all came into play to crowd the Sage's space. He kept his blade within three feet of his body, spinning and slashing to neutralize his opponent's range advantage.
He blocked every attempt to reach the boy, who was happily wielding a scroll Solomon had given him.
The scroll, like Solomon's cards, was simply a different magical vessel. The boy could cast the powerful spells within it without even looking. But these spells weren't aimed at the Sage—they were for the lower-plane creatures trying to join the fray.
"This place gives me a worse headache than your mutts ever did. But I took a super aspirin, so I'm good to go," Solomon quipped, casually lopping off the head of a lower-plane beast. His tone was flippant, his demeanor arrogant, as though this battle bored him. But the killing intent in his eyes was unmistakable. His blade tore through the fetid air with brutal precision, and the vicious curses laced in his spells clearly showed his true goal: to destroy the Sage.
This attitude was often seen in witches. After spending so much time together, the Arcanist had learned to use arrogance to mask his true intent.
It was like a replay of their battle atop Heaven's Bridge—the Sage was fighting at full strength once again.
Thunderous hoofbeats echoed across the realm as a massive horse with eight legs and a blood-red blade atop its head appeared between Solomon and the Sage. At the same time, a crimson thorn whip lashed violently against the Sage's weapon. Solomon was grateful he hadn't summoned Pegasus—Bayonetta's mount was one of the savage mares tamed by Heracles in Greek myth, and Pegasus hated them with a passion. It had attacked them unprovoked more than once. To keep the peace, Bayonetta rarely summoned it in the material plane. Only then would Pegasus tolerate her rides.
"Darling, you're too slow," Bayonetta chided. Solomon merely shrugged.
"Some things are better handled by you, aren't they?"
Just then—
The boy's expression changed drastically as Bayonetta approached. He shouted at the top of his lungs for her to stay back, but the witch didn't listen. Both she and the Arcanist wanted to kill the Sage here and now, to end the feud from the Island of the Sun.
And then the unexpected happened.
So sudden that no one, not even Solomon with his divination, could have foreseen it.
The mark on the boy's forehead exploded in a blinding light—
—and in the blink of an eye, the boy, the Sage, and the witch all vanished.
(End of Chapter)
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