Your Highness?
The strange name... It sounds like something you'd only hear in an old story.
She strained to turn her eyes and looked to her side, where she saw a gray-haired man enter her field of vision, with several women standing beside him.
"How are you feeling?" he asked softly.
"..." She didn't reply, but countered, "Where is this?" "The Kingdom of Graycastle, West Border Town." Fine, things were heading in the worst direction she'd ever imagined—unfamiliar places, uncertain times, and strangers. She wanted to get out of bed, but found herself completely drained.
"I am Roland Wimbledon, the Fourth Prince of the Kingdom of Graycastle and Lord of Border Town," he continued. "These are members of the Witch Alliance. Have you... forgotten everything?" Witch Alliance? She frowned. They were witches? Though she didn't know what this new organization was about, at least they were her kind. But why did they look like this man's subordinates?
Wait, Prince?
She recalled the brief moment, her eyes wide open in disbelief. This wasn't the name of the secular regime during the first God-World War over four hundred years ago. Could it be... she had returned to before the war even began? Had God given her a second chance to prepare in advance and save the Holy City and its people?
No, calm down, she told herself. Such absurdities only existed in fictional tavern tales. So what had she encountered in the end? In the basement of the lab building, a group of madmen stormed in. She unleashed all her Magic Power, forming an impenetrable ice barrier. The Echo Demon Stone kept emitting distress signals, awaiting the day they returned to the Fertile Plain to rediscover themselves.
"Was it you who saved me?" Indeed, now that she had escaped the ice barrier, it could only mean the Witch army had returned! "Has the Devil retreated? Did we win? What about the Holy City... the Holy City of Tachira?" As these questions spilled out, she noticed the faces of several others change, their eyes meeting with expressions of joy and excitement. A Witch with a more mature appearance and long reddish-brown hair couldn't help but ask, "We did find you in the basement of a stone tower. Are you really from 450 years ago?" The question reminded her of the Holy Warrior who had saved the day—his hair, too, burned like flames, illuminating hearts. Though she usually didn't mind social hierarchies, being questioned by a lower-ranking Witch felt like an affront, even though she preferred answering her own kind.
If the man were the one who calculated, he would most likely face severe punishment.
"I'm Agatha, a Witch from the Tachira Mystery Society," she paused. "What do you mean by four hundred and fifty years ago? Have you been battling the Devil for over four centuries? That's impossible." "You've slept too long—things might not be as you think," said the man who introduced himself as Roland. "If you're feeling well, we can go through it step by step." "Go on." Agatha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Though the Prince had been rude, she had no time to dwell on it now.
As he began recounting the history of Graycastle and the evolution of the continent's four great kingdoms, she felt a cold sweat creeping up her spine. In his account, Eggartha quickly identified several corresponding landmarks—such as the Forest of the Hidden and the Desolate Mountains... Yet when she pieced these clues together in her memory, the conclusions she drew left her utterly astonished.
If the place names match, the so-called Four Great Kingdoms were merely ancient wildernesses—narrow strips between mountains and seas, deemed barren and untouchable by them. Yet the untamed frontier he spoke of was actually the fertile plains he knew well. As for the Sacred City of Tachila, it had long vanished into obscurity, buried deep within those very plains over the ages.
How ridiculous is this?
But the more ridiculous part is still to come.
Along with Tachira lies the status of witches—whom he describes as the very ones everyone shuns and oppresses. In the Four Great Kingdoms, power remains firmly in the hands of ordinary people who call themselves the King and the Noble, clinging to the same outdated rhetoric as before the God War.
Yet these very old-timers have become the rulers who trample on witches.
How is that possible?
"Rampage!" she snapped, interrupting him. "A witch hunted by ordinary people? Who would dare do such a thing?" In her fury, Agatha braced herself to strike the man's nonsense, but to her dismay, Magic Power failed to transform into frost as it usually did.
Only then did she realize a metal ring was fastened to her ankle. When she lifted the blanket, the embedded stone was none other than the Stone of God's Punishment.
"Are you out of your minds?!" She stared at the witches in disbelief. "Helping an ordinary person fight a High-Level Awakened, and you're even violating the Federation's ban by using the God Stone without authorization!" Only the Federation's law enforcement teams were permitted to use the God Stone. Anyone who carried, sold, modified, or destroyed it would face the harshest penalties—potentially even the death penalty.
Prince sighed, "That's exactly what I was worried about." "Don't worry, I'll talk to her," the red-haired Witch said, sitting by the bed and pulling the blanket over her. "I'm Wendy. The truth isn't what you think, and everything he said is true... I don't know what the Holy City you lived in looked like four hundred and fifty years ago, but now Tachera no longer exists. The Federation you mentioned has never existed either. We've been living in hiding ever since, until we met Your Highness Roland." "He gave us a safe home and encouraged us to use our abilities while researching how to better harness them to transform the world. Here, we can live freely like ordinary people, without hiding or fearing pursuit or hunting by the Church or the public. You see, God's Stone is everywhere now. A Witch who loses her powers isn't much better off than an ordinary person." After hearing Wendy's account, Agatha fell completely silent.
The Federation, a colossal organization founded by the Witch kingdoms, boasts numerous high-ranking witches and supernaturals. To win the War of God's Will and consolidate their power, they assembled an immense army and took control of all holy cities, tasked with training witches, deploying them, resolving disputes, and maintaining urban stability. Only they hold the authority to arrest and judge witches... Yet this formidable organization now remains unknown to the world...
Where are the fugitives who sought to restore order?