CH391 · Rewrite
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Chapter 391: The Sigil’s Secret

After winter came, the snow fell more gently.

Roland was humming as he read through three manuscripts spread across his table.

The first laid out a trial production plan for a new class of ammunition. The second was a blueprint for a next-generation light weapon. The third was a construction plan for a Spellcaster Tower. The first two had been gestating in his mind for months—but it was the third that made him lean forward in his chair.

With Agatha’s ability to freeze and regulate temperature now at his disposal, the town’s nitric acid output had multiplied. The stability problem that had plagued mass production of nitroglycerin was solved. All the conditions for manufacturing double-base propellant were finally in place.

He knew the theory: dissolve nitrocotton in nitroglycerin, work it into a viscous jelly, slice or granulate the result. What he still needed was an alchemist to determine exact mixture ratios through experiment. Kyle Sichi, fortunately, had grown adept at both quantitative and qualitative work. Hand the task to him and results would come back in a week, two at most.

New propellant meant new weapons. Compared with blackfire powder—which demanded a large-caliber revolving rifle just to achieve acceptable lethality—double-base propellant could do equivalent damage from a smaller barrel. The math was straightforward: switch from heavy-caliber repeaters to light-caliber automatic arms. Better firepower, lower material cost per shot. The specific parameters would depend on what Anna could produce, but the direction was clear.

Roland drank a mouthful of hot tea and set the third manuscript before him. This was what excited him most.

The plan called for a tower beside the Witch House—multi-story, dedicated to the research and manufacture of sigils. He let his imagination run: a lofty spire rising among the chimneys and foundries, incongruous and magnificent.

He laughed out loud before he could stop himself.

Nightingale, gnawing dried fish at the edge of the room, gave him a contemptuous look. “Are sigils really so interesting? The witches’ kingdom had plenty of sigils, and still lost to the demons.”

“There are some very interesting things inside.” He pulled a thick book from his desk drawer—the sigil collection translated from the Quest Society’s experimental notes, cataloguing every formula the Society had discovered across more than two hundred years. “Knowledge that’s new always seems especially attractive, even if it’s only basics.”

He had spent most of his nights on this book since Agatha completed the translation. Reading through the composite lists of magic stones felt like assembling runewords—the same branching possibilities, the same jolt of recognition when one combination unlocked another. He imagined Kyle Sichi receiving his copy of Elementary Chemistry for the first time, racing through the formulas with that same specific hunger.

“For example?” Nightingale leaned over his shoulder.

“Like this.” He pointed to a passage. “The ancient witches called it the Sigil of Listening. Long-distance communication—and like the Sigil of Tracking, it remains effective even when separated into parts.” His finger moved down the page. “The materials are simple. One Echo Stone, one Marking Stone.”

According to the book, the effective range ran to dozens of miles. No match for a mobile phone backed by satellites and relay towers—but serviceable as a walkie-talkie, and in a world where couriers still rode horses through snow, that was remarkable.

“Is it?” Nightingale glanced at the page, then caught his pointing finger and dragged it to the facing page. “But it says here—Echo Stones come from Fearsome Demons, and Marking Stones are commonly seen in Devil’s Town. How exactly do you plan to obtain either?”

“We already have the materials.” He said it with the satisfaction of someone who has been waiting to say it. “The red crystal Lightning found in the ruins—that’s an Echo Stone. The Marking Stone is a component material in the Sigil of Tracking. Tilly brought several back; they just need to be disassembled.”

“Even if Agatha assembles it, you’ll end up with only one Sigil of Listening.”

“Let her try. When we fight demons, we’ll acquire more magic stones.” He hadn’t had the technical foundation to research new applications of magic power before Agatha arrived. He wasn’t going to waste the opportunity now.

“Alright.” Nightingale shrugged. “And the Sigil of God’s Will—what stones does that one require?”

“Last page, I think.” Roland flipped to the back of the book. “By the way—how did your combat capacity test go?”

Nightingale went still. Then, with precise economy: “Secret.”

She had not forgiven Anna for something.

“Here.” He tapped the page. “The four required stones are all listed as unknown. The Quest Society likely omitted them for security reasons. According to Agatha, those stones come primarily from Senior Demons—so even if they were written down, no one could obtain them.”

“And yet you display this precious thing openly in the hall.” Nightingale groaned. “If the Transcendents find out, they’ll be so angry they’ll claw their way back from the dead.”

“Because it probably isn’t that precious.” He paused. “About as precious as a few dozen kilograms of TNT.”

He didn’t explain what he meant. Nightingale didn’t ask.


He waited until Agatha had finished her daily acid production before calling her into the office.

“Have a look at the Spellcaster Tower I’ve designed for you.” He held up his sketch. “Basement is a warehouse. Three floors above ground—apprentice lab, tower master’s lab, and an office.”

Agatha studied the drawing. Her frown deepened. “Why is it called a Spellcaster Tower? All I want is a chemistry lab like Kyle’s—a little more spacious and bright. A tower is unnecessarily complicated. In Taquila, towers existed because the city had no horizontal space. You have plenty of open ground here.”

That’s not fashionable, Roland thought with some force.

“The construction challenges aren’t insurmountable. Aside from the listed facilities, do you have other requirements?”

“No.” Agatha raised both hands. “If you insist.”

“Good.” He set the sketch down. “Can you assemble the sigils alone?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Sigils are created by linking magic stones, but the materials needed to conduct magical power between them are complicated. And most importantly—it requires the blood of demons.”

Roland stopped. “What?”

“You heard correctly. Fresh blood.” Her voice was flat. “When the Quest Society was investigating the nature of magical power, it conducted thousands of experiments and eventually proved that the flesh and blood of witches, demons, and demonic beasts are fundamentally different in nature, and different in function.”

Something cold settled at the base of his skull. “The flesh and blood of… witches?”

“To create the God’s Punishment Army,” Agatha said.

The words landed without ceremony, without inflection, without pity.

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