Rewrite That Witch
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Chapter 1424: Valkries’s Speculation

Was this… a dream?

Fishball blinked. Not only had the Senior Demon spared him—she wanted to communicate with the leaders of the Witches?

The paper on the ground and his split weapon were proof enough. Not a hallucination.

He stooped and picked up the paper. The demon had not folded it or sealed it with wax; the contents were visible. He knew he should not look. He looked anyway.

Bottomless Land?

Deity of Gods?

He had no idea what any of it meant.

That, at least, was a relief. Based on the words alone, no one would have guessed the letter came from a demon.

“The others!” He jolted back to himself. His missing men—there was no time to puzzle over a letter.

“Fauch! Cartier! Blanket—!”

He called their names while staggering toward the tree line. The adrenaline, strangely absent when facing the Senior Demon, arrived only now; his legs had gone soft beneath him, and he steadied himself with one hand against the trunks as he moved.

After a moment, a weak answer came from deep in the forest. “Captain—Captain, is that you?”

The search turned up four men. Two others could not be found, as though they had never existed.

The piece of paper found its way to a higher-ranking officer within the day.

Three days later, Fishball was summoned to the City of Glow by King Roland himself—and his transport was the Seagull.

He had a faint inkling this was not a matter of a mere letter.

“Well?” Roland asked after the questioning was done.

“He was telling the truth. Not a word of it fabricated.” Nightingale shrugged.

“I see.” Truthfully, Roland had found it difficult to imagine a frontline soldier inventing such a story. But given how bizarre the situation was, caution cost nothing. “I will head into the Dream World, then. I’ll have to trouble you.”

“I would do it even if you hadn’t asked.” Nightingale turned and loosened the curtains, dimming the study. “You want to meet the demon again?”

There were no secrets from Nightingale. She stood at his side; she was the only other person who knew where the letter had come from. She had not asked, but she had been present for every conversation he’d had with the ancient witch, and exposure had done the rest. Roland had no intention of hiding it from her—his reason for not spreading the information was mainly to prevent unnecessary worry. Especially Anna’s.

“The earlier letter failed, and Hackzord has returned.” He turned it over quietly, thinking aloud. “And now another powerful Senior Demon has appeared on the battlefield. You’ve seen the reports—if the two combine their abilities, they are capable of causing real trouble for the First Army. I need to understand their intent before that happens. Both the Taquila Witches and Edith have helped tremendously in getting here.”

Troubled times was putting it mildly. Neverwinter under siege. Danger everywhere. Two Senior Demons requiring immediate attention.

“Even so, the other party is still a demon.” Nightingale’s voice carried a quiet weight. “Don’t trust them too easily. Bring some God’s Punishment Witches—especially Ling.”

“You may not believe me, but I fight exceptionally well in the Dream World.” Roland glanced at the girl who had nearly blended into the shadow and lay down on the sofa. “But you don’t have to worry. I’ll bring people.”

“Be back soon.”

“See you in a bit.”

He closed his eyes and let sleep take him.

Half an hour later, Roland found Valkries walking toward Rose Café. He recounted everything Fishball had told him.

”… I see.” She sipped her coffee and was silent for a long time. “They’re looking for me.”

Roland wasn’t certain, but he had noticed—Valkries moved through the Dream World with increasing ease, increasingly like a person.

“They? You know who that was?”

Valkries looked up. “Serakkas—also known as Silent Disaster. She rarely goes without her heavy armor, so it isn’t strange that you’d see her simply as another senior ascendant.”

Roland was struck dumb.

He knew the name. Sylvie had noted this large, powerful Senior Lord when the Deity of Gods moved into the Impassable Mountain Range. Further reports had confirmed the identity—one of the few Charita of the demon race, a warrior of extraordinary gift, and the former guardian of a legacy shard. Through the shard itself, he had once encountered her: the armored figure seated on the blackstone throne. That was Silent Disaster.

He had never imagined what was beneath the armor.

“Are you certain they’re looking for you?” He kept his surprise from his voice. “The letter was addressed to the Three Chiefs Witches…”

The letter’s content was simple—nearly identical to the one Nightmare Lord had once passed along, differing only in that it was written in human language rather than demon script. What Roland could not parse was why the Three Chiefs Witches specifically. What was the significance of that?

“It is natural you don’t understand. You are not one of us.” Valkries set her fork down and lifted her coffee. “But think of it from a different angle and the intent becomes clear. First—I have been missing because I was investigating the reason for humanity’s upgrading. If I am still alive, it means I must be relying on a human’s Realm of Mind domain to sustain my consciousness. There is no other way I could have maintained coherence this long against the Realm’s assault, much less sent that first letter.”

“And the most probable person to interact with the Realm of Mind would be a Witch?” Roland offered.

“Of course, there’s also you.” Valkries was candid. “But given that I was able to send the letter, it is more likely I am relying on a Witch. Hackzord must have reasoned that I had convinced a few Witches and formed some understanding with them—so the first letter appearing meant that the Witch in question must carry some authority. If it were the one I had convinced, surrender on humanity’s behalf would be simpler. There would be no need for this roundabout approach.”

“What you are really saying is… control, right?”

“Don’t mind the fine details.” Valkries did not deny it. “In a sense, a relationship formed through persuasion is stronger than one formed through control, because control is unilateral while persuasion encompasses both parties.”

Roland recalled Agatha’s words—that in the first Battle of Divine Will, some humans had become willing followers of the demons. He shook the thought away and pulled himself back. “Even so, they have no way to verify which Witch you are relying on.”

“True. But it is not easy to deliver a letter from Graycastle to the Kingdom of Wolfheart in wartime. Whoever succeeded is not a nobody. Hackzord would have reasoned that the person wields considerable influence in the human kingdom, or exceptional information access. Choosing to deliver the letter to the Witches was the most sensible move. It ensures the letter receives attention, and sooner or later the sender will hear of it.”

She paused. “Beyond that—don’t you think the letter was too simple? No envelope, unsealed, content visible to anyone. That prevents the Three Chiefs from burying it, and once the right Witch hears about it, so do I.”

Roland saw it then. The words in the letter were not the point. The act of delivering it—a Senior Demon handing a piece of paper to a human soldier—was unprecedented. That could not be suppressed. Within days, every soldier in the army would know what Fishball had experienced.

“I admit it required some luck. But they chose the best available course of action.” Valkries pointed first at Roland, then at herself. “And as you can see—I already know about it.”

“Your reasoning makes sense.” Roland leaned forward, took a slow breath. He already knew this was the question that mattered. “Then tell me—why do you think they’re looking for you?”

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