"Then she picked up the Inquisition Army's longsword, stabbed Farian to death, and split another Inquisition Army member in two, severing the blade into fragments. But the whistle alarm alerted the entire monastery, drawing crowds of people with oil lamps rushing toward them. She stripped off Farian's clothes to wear herself, picked up the other's weapon, and walked alone toward the surging guards." "I sat in the blood-soaked room staring blankly for a while before regaining consciousness. Among the dead was someone who held the keys to all monastery entrances. I rummaged through scattered clothes and retrieved the keys, along with the God's Stone from their bodies—though I didn't know the stone's purpose at the time, I thought its crystal-clear appearance might fetch a price. The monastery's God officials, guards, and Inquisition Army were all lured away. I walked almost unimpeded to a hidden backdoor in the backyard, tested the keys, and finally escaped." "Later, only one stone was bought; the rest were stolen. With those ten silver wolves, I wandered until I reached Haifeng County. Two years later in winter, I awakened as a Witch." Wendington paused. "That's my whole story." The Nightingale held the other's hand, remaining silent for a long time before speaking: "What about the woman from the liturgy class?" "Perhaps she died, perhaps she escaped." I later learned that the Church claimed the monastery had caught fire and was subsequently closed. No one knew or cared where the girls inside had gone. They were all abandoned souls. The Nightingale let out a long sigh and pulled Wendy into her arms. "Now you have us. Sleep, Wendy." After a long pause, she murmured, "Hmm..."
The next day, as Roland yawned and stepped into the office, he found Nightingale sitting at his desk with a serious expression, waiting for him.
"Um, what happened?" "Have you heard of the Supernatural?" she asked in a grave tone.
Prince shook his head. Nightingale recounted the story Wendy had told the previous night: "Without awakening, I can hardly imagine an underage woman could easily slay the fully armed Inquisition Army." "A Witch not bound by the Stone of God's Punishment..." Roland paused after hearing this, recalling his categorization of Witch abilities. "Could she be a Self-Enhancing Witch?" "Self... what type?" Roland pulled a sheet from the drawer and handed it to her. "I've created a basic classification based on how you wield Magic Power. Self-Enhancing Witches constantly consume Magic Power to transform themselves—a process unaffected by the Stone of God's Punishment. While ordinary Witches' physical strength improves with Magic Power, Self-Enhancing Witches show more remarkable progress. If I'm not mistaken, the Scroll should also be considered an Extraordinary in the Church's eyes." "Scroll?" Nightingale froze. "But she..." "But she's not skilled in combat, right?" Roland smiled. "This classification isn't based on strength or absolute accuracy—it's just my personal opinion. A Power-Enhancing Witch can indeed cause significant trouble for the Church." Without the constraints of God's Stone of Punishment, she could either selectively ambush the Inquisition Army squad or single-handedly destroy the town's church. Yet human power is inherently limited, and the number of witches awakened as self-enhancing types would inevitably be fewer than the other two types—otherwise, the witches would turn against the Church. Though he spoke lightly, the mere thought of those two pills, one red and one black, stirred a vague unease in his heart.
Even if there are few superhuman beings, over the past century, there must have been at least a dozen. If just two or three of them were power-enhanced, they could unsettle the Church and unsettle God. For instance, during the annual Demon Month when the Church focuses all its efforts on the Hermes Defense Line, they could launch a large-scale purge of the Church's facilities in other cities, eliminating churches, priests, and God officials. Over the years, the Church's followers would likely dwindle significantly.
Apart from the extraordinary individual Wendy happened to encounter, Roland had never heard of any Witch counterattack against the Church. Even the monastery where Wendy had lived as a child was destroyed by a fire, and the whereabouts of the liturgical choir girls remained unknown.
The Church was determined not to sit idly by. He thought they might already have the means to combat the Supernatural, and those two pills could be one of them.
In any case, test the pill first.
At this point, Roland summoned his personal guard outside the door, instructed him to fetch a prisoner from the jail, and brought Carter along.
The testing site was arranged outside the city wall.
As a precaution, Roland mobilized four platoons of the First Army, forming a perimeter around the test site with their guns on standby.
On the city wall, alongside him and the Nightingale, stood Anna and Nana Wa. As long as the God's Stone of Punishment was absent, Anna's emerald fire barrier would ensure her safety, while Nana Wa could provide the most rapid healing.
"Are you alright?" Roland bent down to ask Carter Lannis, who was stretching below him. "Don't underestimate your opponent." "Don't worry, Your Highness," Carter said, putting on his helmet. "Your Chief Knight is no joke. Besides, he's using a wooden sword—there's no way he could hurt me." The subject was a death row inmate convicted of robbery and murder. Roland didn't like the idea of serving a sentence to avoid execution, so he told the prisoner bluntly that if he were willing to die for the test, his family would receive five Golden Dragons as a reward. After a moment's hesitation, the prisoner agreed to the terms.
Carter had initially hoped the opponent would don armor and draw a sword for a fair duel, but Roland flatly refused. Using lethal weapons would multiply the danger exponentially—if Knight's head were severed, Nana Wa would be beyond saving. The bare-handed approach was specifically designed to test the Black Pill's pain tolerance.
After swallowing the two pills, the prisoner's expression changed abruptly. His forehead and arms were marked by bulging veins, his skin flushed crimson, and his breathing grew labored. He seized the wooden sword and charged at Knight, who stood waiting motionless. His speed was as swift as a charging wolf, leaving small footprints in the dirt beneath him.
Carter appeared slightly taken aback, yet he calmly sidestepped and thrust his sword horizontally. This move forced the opponent to change direction, or else the blade would have pierced his ribs.
The opponent was nothing more than a ruthless killer, devoid of any combat training beyond brute strength. Unsurprisingly, his attack missed, leaving a deep gash on his side that bled profusely. The wound would cripple him for half his life, yet he stood there, unfazed, and lunged at Knight again. Carter repeated the move, but this time with subtle variations. As they brushed past, the criminal twisted his body and swung his wooden sword at Knight's position with a single-handed motion. The awkward strike should have been harmless, but Knight saw nothing but a blur. His instinctive parry sent him reeling back two steps, and the sword snapped with a metallic clang.
"Got some strength," Carter snapped, shaking his hand. "Hand him the sword and come back." The prisoner didn't take the wooden sword from the soldier's hand. Instead, he abruptly turned and charged toward the hidden forest. In the blink of an eye, his speed reached a level beyond ordinary human reach—like a wild horse in full gallop. With his hands flung wide in front of him, he collided head-on with a soldier who was about to raise his gun. The soldier let out a piercing scream and was sent flying into the air. By then, the other soldiers had already pulled the triggers. Blood splattered from the prisoner's back, but his momentum remained undiminished. He swiftly broke through the encirclement, sprinting over ten meters in mere moments.
"Stop him!" Carter yelled, "Horse me!" Before Knight could mount, the prisoner suddenly jerked violently, staring in disbelief at his abdomen. A diagonal incision cut through his abdominal cavity, and a gush of warm, raw intestines erupted from the wound.
Slowly turning his head, he saw a woman in white standing behind him, holding a gleaming silver dagger.