Rewrite That Witch
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Chapter 1421: Return

“Living things… What do you mean?” Nightingale frowned. “Are you saying the God’s Stones in the mines can talk?”

“I haven’t made any discoveries on that yet, but while conducting tests in the Hermes God’s Stone mine, I accidentally found a few rats that had been corroded by the stones.” Isabella closed her eyes, as though drawing from some distant memory. “Perhaps they lost their way and scurried down after the collapse of Holy City. No one knows how they became caught in the God’s Stones, but after part of their bodies sank in—it was as if the two had fused.”

“Insect larvae wrapped in resin can also be viewed as one entity,” Roland replied. “The amber isn’t alive.”

“I know.” Fear crossed Isabella’s face and retreated. “If it were only that, I would never have made such an assertion. The problem is—the rat was still alive. When I came close, it squeaked at me, as though asking me to free it.”

Roland shuddered.

He understood then why she would feel fear. It was the fear of the unknown. She was standing before an unprecedented domain.

“Could it be that the rat was only recently trapped when you entered?” Nightingale asked, her tone casual—a feint to mask what lay beneath.

“I observed them for three months and nine days. Their squeaking never stopped.” Isabella sighed. “One day after that, I used a dagger to free one. Its stomach and most of its body was completely hollow—the body had withered from the extended time—yet part of its veins and arteries had merged into the God’s Stone.”

So for three months, the thing supplying the rat with energy to survive was… the God’s Stone.

I have been viewing this too simply. Roland chuckled bitterly to himself. His previous assumption—that only living things could gather magic power—was an error born of ignorance. Isabella’s discovery had pushed their understanding a large step forward.

“I once read a Church record of all known living things, in which a few rare plants were able to attach to animals and form unusual symbiotic relationships. Although we cannot confirm the God’s Stones are plants, they are at the very least living things. With this in mind, the demons’ unique appearances become more explicable—the constantly growing obelisk, for instance, and the giant monsters beneath the steles. Perhaps they are using this to structure their entire civilization.”

“The way I see it, demons really are fond of those stones,” Nightingale said thoughtfully.

“It is a pity that my research barely scrapes the surface. Most of it is superficial conjecture; I cannot offer you any substantial assistance.” Isabella bowed her head. “Not only is the reason for the fusion unsolved, my ability to transform magic stones is limited to low-level ones—light stones, shrieking stones—”

“You are gravely underestimating your own discovery.” Roland cut in. “Setting aside whether the hypothesis on ‘waves’ or ‘frequency’ is accurate, the fact that a Witch can create a magic stone through her own powers is alone enough to enter the history books.”

He would not pretend there were no regrets. If Isabella could truly produce powerful magic stones, it meant an unlimited supply of sigils, and Combat Witches would become a decisive force on any battlefield. But Roland also knew that the exploration of magic power was a long process. Isabella’s research had merely opened a crack in a door, giving them a glimpse of a vast new field beyond. With the Witches’ long lives, as long as she continued, results would come.

After Isabella departed, Roland picked up a pen and drafted a telegram to City Hall.

The message was a single sentence: Neverwinter cannot fall. Activate all emergency protocols with immediate effect. We are entering total war mobilization.

The contingency plans could only activate when the kingdom had sufficient food to supply soldiers at the frontlines. And beyond the army’s expansion, the arms industry suffered from the same food restriction.

Since the Battle of Divine Will began, he had ordered Barov to draft a corresponding plan, but implementation was never easy. From an administrative standpoint, only Neverwinter had the policies and manpower capable of sustaining it. Other cities would face paralysis after the hard-won restoration of order.

Even if the First Army expanded without restraint, the logistics department could not keep pace. Sailboats and domesticated animals could not supply hundreds of thousands of men on a cross-border campaign. Impossible.

If the main battlefield remained in the Western Region, those limitations disappeared—Neverwinter was both humanity’s last stand and the front line of the war.

Whatever the price, humanity could no longer take a step back. Even if the enemy came from the Sky-sea Realm.

Because they had nowhere left to go.

“Who’s there?”

Immersed in the Red Mist Pond, Silent Disaster suddenly opened his eyes and looked toward the darkness.

A moment ago he had heard the faintest of movements.

Under ordinary circumstances, he would not have asked. He would have attacked with his weapon and sorted it out afterward. Any Junior Demon or Primal Demon that dared intrude on his resting place deserved to be cleaved in two.

The reason for his inaction was that his weapon was no longer at his side. He only removed his armor and weapons during recuperation.

A figure walked slowly out of the darkness.

“Don’t do anything. It’s me.”

Silent Disaster stiffened. The voice belonged to someone they had long lost contact with—Sky Lord, Hackzord.

He stood up from the pool and seized a white cloth. “Where have you been! Was Mask right—did you shed your responsibilities and run?”

“Humph. Nothing that abnormal freak says surprises me. That is why I came to find you alone.” Hackzord walked into the pool. It was then that Silent Disaster noticed the large hole in the center of his chestplate, exposing the flesh wound beneath. The bleeding had ceased; the wound had not healed.

“You’re… injured?”

With Sky Lord’s ability, ending up in this state from mere desertion was not impossible.

“I never thought there would be a day when I would receive your concern.” Sky Lord laughed and climbed arduously into the Red Mist Pond. “Rest easy—you’ll know soon enough where I have been. But first, I need you to see something.”

“What?”

“Focus your attention and relax. Close your eyes.”

Silent Disaster’s instinct was to refuse. But looking into the other’s expression—one that left no room for doubt—he suddenly understood.

This was the preparation for entering the Realm of Mind.

He hesitated for a moment. Then he closed his eyes.

In that instant, a torrent of indescribable scenes surged into Silent Disaster’s mind—the strange island, countless confidential letters, a white-robed demon, a great beam of light, a bottomless pit. All of it flashed past in succession. The final image that appeared was a blade, and a swarm of Nests.

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