The pale light of the winter morning filtered through the stained glass windows of Prince Roland's office, casting dancing beams over the heavy oak table.
The smell of burning wood and hot coffee filled the room, creating a cozy contrast with the blizzard that still battered the castle windows.
Sitting in his leather armchair, Roland observed the two women seated in front of him.
Lightning swung her short legs in the chair, her blue eyes scanning every detail of the room with insatiable curiosity, from the tapestries to the silver inkwells.
Diana Argus, on the other hand, maintained an erect and formal posture, her hands resting gracefully on her lap. Despite wearing simple woolen clothes provided by the maids the night before, Diana's noble upbringing shone through in every gesture.
Roland cleared his throat, drawing the attention of both, and slid two newly written parchments across the tabletop.
— "As we discussed last night, in Border Town we operate under the light of law and order," — Roland began, his voice calm and diplomatic. — "You are not prisoners, nor are you the property of my castle. You are free citizens, and as such, I am offering you an official employment contract."
Diana leaned forward slightly, her perceptive eyes running over the lines of elegant handwriting.
— "An employment contract?" — she repeated, surprise coloring her voice. — "For witches?"
— "Exactly," — Roland nodded, interlacing his fingers on the table. — "In exchange for safe housing, three hearty meals a day, absolute protection against the Church or any other threat, and a monthly salary of 10 silver coins, I only ask that you use your magical abilities for the development and defense of our town. Everything is detailed on the paper; if you agree, just sign."
Lightning blinked, confused.
— "Wait, Your Highness... You want to pay me to fly around? And that's it? No one is going to try to burn me or hide me in a dirty hole?"
Roland smiled, a genuine smile that warmed the young adventurer's heart.
— "No one will touch a hair on your head, Lightning. Your flight is an invaluable gift; you will be the eyes of this town in the skies."
Diana continued reading the contract, but her eyes stopped on a specific clause. The expression on her face, previously controlled, gave way to an ancestral fear.
— "Your Highness, there is something you need to understand," — Diana intervened, her voice trembling, lowering the parchment. — "The offer is of a generosity I never deemed possible in this world, but we are in the Months of Demons. Soon, the Day of Awakening for many of us will approach, and the Devil's Bite... The indescribable pain that tears our bodies apart... It will come. If we stay here, the magic inside us will collapse. Do you know what happens when a witch cannot bear the pain? She dies a terrible death."
The mention of the Devil's Bite made Lightning stop swinging her legs, lowering her head.
It was the silent terror that haunted all their lives. The Church taught that it was divine punishment for impure blood, and the Association taught that it was the price to pay for not being the chosen ones to find the Holy Mountain.
Roland, however, showed not the slightest trace of panic. Instead, he sighed and looked at them with an expression of scientific patience.
— "Diana, Lightning... The Church has lied to you your entire lives, and with all due respect to the founder of your association, Cara also has no idea how the biology of magic works," — Roland declared, with a firmness that allowed no disputes.
He picked up an empty water glass and a pitcher that was on the table.
— "Imagine that your body is this glass," — he said, slowly pouring water to the brim. — "Magic is the water. During the Months of Demons, the magical energy in the world reaches its peak, flowing into you in a much larger volume than normal, and what happens if I keep pouring water into a glass that is already full?"
— "It overflows," — Diana replied immediately, her forehead creased in concentration.
— "Exactly! But the human body is not an open glass; when the magic 'overflows' inside you, it has nowhere to go. It presses against flesh, nerves, and bones from the inside out. It is this extreme pressure that causes the piercing pain you call the Devil's Bite; this is basic physics. It is not a punishment from the gods, it is not the devil collecting rent on your souls, it is just an excess of confined energy."
Roland emptied the water from the glass back into the pitcher and looked at the two astounded witches.
— "The solution to the great evil that has been killing witches for centuries is frighteningly simple. You just need to empty the glass. As long as you use your magic regularly and exhaustively every day during the winter, consuming the stored energy in your bodies, you will not suffer any pain; the Demonic Bite will be reduced to mere passing fatigue."
The silence that followed was absolute.
Diana Argus's lips were slightly parted.
The former noble's mind worked furiously. All the Church's dogma, all the tragedy of thousands of burned and tortured women, all the suffering in the darkness of those caves... Reduced to a "storage capacity" problem. If that were true—and Roland's unshakable confidence indicated it was—then Border Town wasn't just a refuge. It was paradise on earth.
— "But still, it doesn't seem like a fair contract to me, Your Highness," — Lightning said with confident eyes. — "As an adventurer, I was never afraid of the Bite, so I can fly every day peacefully without getting tired. In exchange, I just want to see your inventions that Nightingale mentioned."
— "Hey, Lightning. Mind your manners!" — Diana said with a reprimanding look, demanding better etiquette in front of the Prince.
At this moment, the side door of the office opened with a slight creak.
Anna entered the room.
Her beautiful blue eyes radiated a deep serenity, and she wore a simple dress that did not hide the marks of small, old scars faded by time on her skin.
— "It is the absolute truth," — Anna said, with a gentle and comforting smile. — "I was the first to sign this contract. I burned and melted iron every day; my Day of Awakening passed without me even noticing it, the pain no longer exists."
Diana Argus let out a deep sigh, feeling as if a leaden burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She picked up the quill, dipped it in the inkwell, and signed the contract with flourished handwriting.
Lightning did the same, almost tearing the paper in her haste.
— "Your Highness," — Diana said, handing the paper back. — "As Lightning just said, Nightingale told me wonderful things about your mind. She mentioned a marvel made of steel that replaced the strength of dozens of men. Something called a 'Steam Engine', and as the daughter of a scholar, I have an immense interest in engineering and mechanisms; would you allow me to see such an invention?"
Roland smiled, satisfied. Diana's genuine interest in science was music to his ears.
— "It will be a pleasure. Anna," — Roland called, pointing to the brown-haired girl. — "Please, be the hostess for our new citizens. Show Diana and Lightning the backyard and how Version II of our Steam Engine works; I think they will enjoy the show."
Anna nodded gracefully, her eyes shining with pride, and gestured for the two to accompany her.
.
.
.
Hours later, when the winter sun was already beginning its melancholic descent toward the snowy horizon, the castle was enveloped in a tactical calm.
Far from the mines and the noisy workshops, in the tranquility of Arthur's personal library, a much more lethal and clandestine conversation was about to take shape.
William was leaning against one of the large oak bookcases, holding a steaming mug of tea.
The modern soldier exhibited a transformative appearance.
The dark, suffocating shadow of guilt, which had bowed his shoulders and sucked the life from his eyes the night before, had completely disappeared. The long, deep late-night conversation with Nightingale had worked a miracle on his spirit. He had understood that he couldn't torture himself for preventing Wendy from getting hurt, and that the witches' salvation was not a straight line dictated by his will.
Arthur entered the library, closing the heavy wooden door behind him with a dry click. He walked to the center of the room and analyzed his friend.
— "I see you have returned to the land of the living, Will," — Arthur commented, his arms crossed over his chest. — "I suppose you are now in good condition to talk."
William gave a loose smile, taking a sip of the hot tea.
— "Veronica has a clarity about the world that I lack sometimes. I was blinded by my own arrogance, trying to force the pieces on the board to move the way I wanted. I am much better now, Arthur."
— "I'm glad to hear that," — Arthur said, his expression hardening, assuming the posture of the usual ruthless strategist. — "Because I need you focused; the game isn't over. The Witch Cooperation Association is still on the mountain, and thinking more about the variety of every magic they might have, they can greatly accelerate the Town's development. Therefore, we are going to bring them here, and there is already a way to do it."
William frowned, stepping away from the bookcase.
— "A way? We just left there. Cara is crazy, the camp is paranoid, and there is no possible negotiation with that woman."
— "I do not intend to negotiate," — Arthur declared, walking to a table lined with strategic maps of the region. He pointed his finger directly at the mountain range drawn on the paper. — "I am going to the Association."
Before William could voice any protest, the air near the fireplace rippled.
The black and white lines of the Mist World unraveled, and Nightingale materialized in the physical world, her arms crossed and an expression of profound disbelief on her beautiful face.
— "And why would you want to go there only now?" — Nightingale questioned, her voice laden with skepticism and reprimand. — "It is a pure waste of time; we have already risked our lives. We showed them the truth and reached out a hand. They chose to stay with Cara. What had to be done has already been done; if you go there now knocking on that cave's door to try and convince them, the only thing you will get is an army of angry witches shooting arrows at your head. Cara will not let anyone listen to you."
Arthur looked at Nightingale, unphased by the interruption.
— "Nightingale, do you really think I would waste my time and energy climbing a frozen mountain to try to win a friendly debate with a fanatic? The woman whom I myself warned you was a waste of time?" — Arthur let out a short, humorless laugh. — "I couldn't care less about diplomatic speeches in enemy territory."
He leaned on the edge of the table, his eyes shining with a predatory intensity.
— "I had intentions of saving all the witches of the Association from the beginning, from the moment the System offered me something in return, but I had to omit my true intentions from him and from you. Why? Because I knew, from the very first second, that it was a waste of time to try to convince them with engineering blueprints, promises of a warm bed, and cordial smiles. Cara has created a cult of personality founded on paranoia, and cults are not dismantled with facts."
— "Then what is the point of going there?" — William intervened, trying to understand his friend's intentions.
— "The point, my dear Will, is the psychology of despair," — Arthur explained, raising a finger in the air. — "The best and only way to win the unshakable loyalty of those women is not by offering an inviting pamphlet. The only way to break the illusion that Cara is their omnipotent protector is by saving the lives of those witches from a brutal massacre. In the exact moment when their leader is powerless and about to be torn apart by demons, I will be the light at the end of the tunnel, absolutely."
Nightingale blinked, her brain quickly processing the strategist's words.
Her breath hitched. She turned her head and looked directly at William, her eyes wide, remembering something the soldier had mentioned a few days after they met, a prophetic threat about the imminent future.
— "The demons..." — Nightingale whispered, her voice trembling. — "The 'demons with minds' that William mentioned; beings even worse than the hybrid demonic beasts."
— "Exactly," — Arthur confirmed, the lethal smile fixed on his face. — "During the worst blizzard of the Months of Demons, the camp will not just be attacked by irrational boars; it will be a coordinated invasion by demons, aberrant and intelligent creatures, mounted on hybrid beasts. They will break through Cara's defenses as if they were made of wet paper. The witches will panic; after the combatants fall one by one, the despair will be absolute. And it is exactly in that millisecond when death seems inevitable that Border Town will knock on the door and annihilate hell for them. When the smoke clears, Cara will no longer be a goddess in their eyes. But rather, I will."
William felt his blood boil with anticipation.
The tactical side of the idea was cold and calculating, yes, but the ultimate goal was to preserve the lives of those people. It was the only way to save them without forcing them into anything.
— "It's a brilliant plan, Arthur. Bloody, risky, but brilliant," — William said, gripping his tea mug so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His protective instinct burned in his chest. — "How are we going to do this? How many rifles and barrels of gunpowder do I need to store in my inventory? I am willing to do anything to save Wendy and the rest of them. Just tell me what the plan is."
Arthur didn't blink. He straightened up, adjusting the lapel of his tunic.
— "What you are going to do is absolutely nothing regarding the trip," — Arthur sentenced, his voice cutting through the air like an ice razor. — "I am going there alone, or maybe I will take Lightning with me."
The silence that fell over the library was short, broken only by the sound of a twig snapping in the fireplace.
William frowned, not because he doubted his friend's capability. He had already witnessed Arthur defeat a hybrid beast with frightening ease in the past. Facing two demons with a hybrid beast would be undeniably risky in the middle of winter, but it was far from being a deadly absurdity for someone with the level of strength he possessed.
Nightingale, similarly, uncrossed her arms with a thoughtful expression; she knew Arthur's lethality and would not question his combat skills.
The doubt hanging in the room was about reinforcements.
— "Going alone I can understand, given the damage you can do," — William pointed out, tilting his head curiously. — "But why Lightning specifically?"
— "She is necessary to carry supplies and give us a terrain advantage," — Arthur explained pragmatically, leaning on the edge of the table. — "Besides, as soon as we save the camp and the dust settles, I will need someone that the witches of the Association already know, and who can travel at high speeds flying, without any terrain effort. Although my magical power does not run out, my physical capabilities suffer a heavy overload and wear and tear with excessive use of magic, so I intend to save as much energy as possible on the way there to unleash it all at the time of combat."
William crossed his arms, the urge to help still tingling in his hands.
— "If the issue is carrying things and mobility, wouldn't my help be better?" — the soldier questioned. — "I possess a more practical arsenal of power for that. I can put everything in the inventory without carrying an ounce of weight, and my teleportation, although short, I can use it multiple times without problems, thanks to my endurance."
Arthur shook his head in denial, fixing his gaze on his friend.
— "Your power is perfect for that, William; but you have already spent the entire last week away, missing in the blizzard. You are the commander of our army, the militia needs their leader training the formations on the walls and keeping morale high, and a commander needs to make his presence known, especially during the Months of Demons. Therefore, stay, organize the troops, and ensure the castle is safe."
William exhaled heavily, surrendering to his friend's unassailable tactical logic. He nodded, swallowing his frustration and accepting his responsibility toward the town.
— "Alright. We will stay and protect Your Highness and the Town from any variable," — William promised, with Nightingale silently nodding in agreement by his side.
— "Great," — Arthur smiled, his strategic focus returning to total efficiency. He turned to the blonde assassin. — "Nightingale, I have a crucial task for you. I need you to make a complete list with the names of all the witches living in that camp, and more importantly, I need a dossier with the exact type of magic each one possesses and the range of their powers."
Nightingale sighed lightly, scratching the back of her neck.
— "I would love to help with the details, but I spent months away from the mountain. I gathered supplies and searched for sisters in the nearby cities. I barely know half of those new girls or the exact rules of their powers."
— "That's not a problem," — Arthur countered promptly. — "Diana Argus has this information. She was raised as a noble, has a sharp mind, and spent much more time locked in the cave observing everyone. Go to her room, ask her, and if possible, hand me the list by tomorrow morning."
Nightingale gave a brief, relaxed salute and took a step back, the edges of her body already beginning to dissipate into the characteristic darkness of her magic.
— "Leave it to me." — Nightingale's voice echoed, already coming from within the invisible veil.
With Nightingale gone and William heading to his command post, Arthur was left alone in the library. He looked again at the maps spread out on the table, tapping the tip of his index finger over the drawing of the Impassable Mountain Range.
The journey would be tedious, and the wear on his body would be high, but saving the Witch Cooperation Association at the peak of despair would guarantee the birth of an army founded on the most unshakable loyalty. And he would guarantee this, with his own invisible hands.