"I'll kill you!" Gale roared in fury, raising the colossal Spear of Storms above her head and hurling it downward with all her might.
But she didn't notice the faint purple chain already coiled around the spear's shaft. As the weapon descended with the power to shatter the heavens, the chain suddenly tightened—halting the spear in midair.
"When did that—?!" Gale's eyes widened in disbelief as she looked upward. The sky was now completely covered by a web of glowing purple chains.
"Gale of the Desire lineage," said the Hand of Judgment, his voice calm but cutting. "The Storm Witch who commands mankind's fear of wind and disaster."
He shook his head, looking at her with the pity one might give a child who didn't understand her own weakness. "For someone who claims to rule the power of emotion, it's almost pathetic how easily I provoked you with a few words. I can't tell whether it's because you've been coddled too long… or—"
His eyes turned cold. "—because you simply lack a brain."
As his words fell, countless chains erupted from the void, wrapping around Gale in an instant. From the raging storm below, a massive crucifix rose upward. The chains constricted, binding her body to the cross.
"My apologies," the Hand of Judgment continued, stepping forward. "My opponents are usually witches of your caliber—so my Mindscape World doesn't function like the ones you're used to. Here, worlds don't collide and strong doesn't just crush weak. My world… is about invasion. At this moment, your Mindscape already belongs to me."
A colossal judge's dais appeared beneath his feet. To his sides, twelve Judgment Knights materialized, each seated in a lower tribunal seat.
Then, from the highest seat above, a solemn voice echoed through the air: "Gale, Storm Witch of Calamity—You have spread the terror of storms and slaughtered countless humans. By the authority of the Holy Tribunal, I, the Sixth Seat of the Judgment Knights—the Hand of Judgment,—hereby sentence you to death."
The spear formed from her own magic began to rotate slowly—its point now aimed directly at her chest.
But before it could strike, cracks spread across the storm-woven world. A faint deathly miasma leaked through, seeping into the realm like ink on parchment. At first, only a few wisps. Then suddenly, a roaring tide of death energy flooded everything, carrying streaks of dark green plague mist.
Seeing this, the Hand of Judgment frowned but pressed on, urging the spear to fall faster. Just as the weapon was about to pierce Gale—
A streak of emerald light flashed across the air. A petite, green-haired girl appeared before her.
"Technically, the lives of you Seven Calamities aren't my concern," said Pestis, her tone flat as she raised a green barrier.
"But if you die here, it'll be annoying for me."
With a flick of her hand, the barrier expanded, wrapping around the Storm Spear. In an instant, a surge of plague energy devoured it whole. Moments later, what had once been Gale's all-out strike melted into a puddle of corrosive green liquid.
"Remember this," Pestis said coldly. "You owe me a life. Next time I meet someone I can't beat, you'll take the hit for me."
Without another word, she floated toward the judge's dais.
By now, the flood of death energy had consumed the Judgment World entirely. Everything turned a sickly green. Plague energy spread wildly, transforming the landscape into a ruined city—crumbled walls, shattered towers, and clusters of pulsing green spore sacs clinging to the ruins. Each time they throbbed, clouds of plague spores burst into the air.
"This… is the royal capital of Invidia?" The Hand of Judgment frowned deeply. He hadn't expected the Witch of Disease, one of the Seven Calamities stationed in Luxuria, to create a Mindscape modeled after a fallen neighboring kingdom's capital.
"Legend says the Witches of Disease and Poison were twin sisters born in Invidia," he murmured.
"So that information was true after all. Then the one who killed her own sister—you, Pestis—Was it you who destroyed Invidia's royal court?"
"Believe whatever you like," Pestis said indifferently.
"But the woman you're trying to kill isn't dying today." Her voice remained calm and expressionless.
"Unless, of course, you—'Sixth Seat of the Judgment Knights'—want to fight me instead?"
"You…" The Hand of Judgment's face darkened. His greatest pride was being the Sixth Seat, and his greatest shame—being only the Sixth Seat. He hated that mocking nickname: "Number Six."
He took a slow, deep breath, forcing himself to stay composed. "So, the Witch of Disease seeks to anger me now? Tell me—can you also invade another's Mindscape? Because this world doesn't feel like yours. It feels like… regret. As if it's mourning the sins of the past…"
"So," Pestis interrupted flatly, "are we fighting or not?"
A small dark-green orb appeared in her palm, pulsing faintly. The plague energy within was so concentrated that, if released, it could turn thousands of miles into lifeless wasteland in seconds.
The Hand of Judgment narrowed his eyes. "If you want us to retreat, then the Death Witch must die. That is our bottom line."
"Impossible," Pestis replied with a shake of her head. Then, after a short pause, she added quietly:
"But… I can disrupt her ascension to the Saint Rank. After all, even we don't want to see the Death Witch reach Saint rank too soon."