Chapter 535: The Gun of a Protector
Roland returned to the castle at dusk. Nightingale was waiting for him in the office before he’d reached the third step of the stairs.
“You really think Maggie can win?”
“You trained Lightning yourself, and Lightning trained Maggie.” He dropped into his chair. “She held her ground against a demon in the Devil’s Town expedition. The only thing I’m not certain of is whether she’ll let herself shoot at someone she grew up with.”
The wound Iffy had left on Maggie wasn’t deep—surprise and pain, not permanent harm. But the contempt that had produced it was dangerous in a different way: slow-burning, the kind that poisoned an organization from the inside. Roland needed it changed, not merely punished. And the most durable lesson was one you discovered for yourself, through your body, with no interpretive room left.
The gun was precisely the argument he needed. A weapon that required no physical gifts—no awakening, no Demonic Torture survived, no years of combat conditioning. Just hands, and the wit to use what the Witch Union’s non-combat witches had helped build. Soraya had made the bullets for tomorrow’s duel: rubber-tipped, multi-layered, designed to transfer the full kinetic force of the shot across a broad surface rather than piercing. The impact would be decisive and the pain considerable. It would not kill.
“I want to see her.” Nightingale’s voice was quieter than usual.
Roland heard the snap of a hammer being drawn back near his left ear. He did not comment on it.
“Listen.” Lightning sat on the edge of Maggie’s bed and leaned forward. “You empty the cylinder. You don’t stop, you don’t slow down, you don’t give her an opening. Nana is standing by. Soraya made those bullets herself. There is nothing to worry about except winning. If you hold back, I will never take you exploring again. A coward cannot be an explorer.”
Maggie had pulled her hair down over her face. “I understand.”
“No.” Lightning pushed the curtain of white hair aside. “You don’t want to beat her. I can tell.”
“I’m not—I’m not a coward.”
“Then act like it.”
“She’s not a coward.” A different voice, from behind them.
Nightingale stepped out of the Mist and struck Lightning on the forehead before the girl could protest. “Who taught you to speak like that.”
Lightning pressed a hand to her head. “I’m worried she’ll hesitate.”
Nightingale sat down beside Maggie and took both her hands. “Listen. This isn’t only about the two of you. His Majesty arranged this because the Bloodfang Association’s attitude toward non-combat witches is a poison that spreads—to Evelyn, to Candle, to everyone who came here carrying those scars from Sleeping Island. If you win tomorrow, you’re doing something for them. The way you did something for all of us in Devil’s Town.” A pause. “You’re not just fighting for yourself. You’re fighting to protect us.”
Maggie lifted her head. Her eyes were soft and serious.
“Also,” Nightingale added, “His Majesty has promised you unlimited ice cream and pepper barbecue for one week if you win.”
Maggie’s eyes lit up like struck flint. “Coo!”
The next morning, the grass outside the city wall was crowded with witches. They clustered around Roland in a loose, bright constellation, their cheers already starting before the participants had taken their positions.
Softfeathers yawned. “I’m not cheering for you. You wouldn’t hear me anyway.”
“You don’t need to.” Iffy walked to the center of the field at an easy pace. She stopped opposite Maggie—this small girl standing in her own loose hair, perfectly still—and looked at her without expression. “If victory were decided by supporters, the Church would already rule the continent. It’s not too late to withdraw. I’d rather you not disappoint His Majesty.”
“I won’t give in, coo.”
Something shifted in Iffy’s expression. Since when had this bird answered her without flinching?
“Then get ready to fall out of the sky like a dog.”
“You can’t trap me in the air,” Maggie said, chin up. “The only one who’s ever caught me up there is Lightning.”
The whistle blew.
Iffy moved immediately—straight line, closing distance. Combat training and exceptional physical conditioning against a girl who’d never once trained in hand-to-hand. Even if the God’s Stone interfered with the cage, Iffy could end this with her hands. Ten exchanges with a trained knight, she’d calculated once, and the knight would be on the ground. This would take five.
Maggie spread her wings and became a bluebird and shot skyward.
“Is that your plan?” Iffy watched her go, arm extended, cage-sense reaching and finding nothing in range. “There’s nowhere to run. We’re still in a duel.”
The silvery chirp faded as the bird climbed.
Iffy kept her eyes up. The sun was rising in the east, the glare direct and flat—she’s going to use the angle of the sun to mask an approach—but even with her eyes closed the derivative ability she’d gained at adulthood extended her awareness: any object within ten steps moved through her field like a hand through water. She’d feel the dive coming before she saw it.
A bird diving from altitude, even Maggie’s evolved form, still arrived with its mass and its claws. She’d simply cage it on the approach.
The light dimmed. Iffy looked up and saw the shadow.
Now.
She reached out with both hands—
Nothing.
Her magic power touched empty air. No target. No mass. The shadow was there, the shape was right, but Maggie had stopped—twenty steps out, suspended in the air, already shifting back to her human form, already falling but slowly, the spread of her white hair flaring open like a wing to slow the descent—
And the silver stick in her hands was already spitting fire.
Iffy didn’t understand it at first. Something crossed the boundary of her awareness—not Maggie, not a bolt, not a thrown stone. She raised her cage instinctively—
The first shot hit her in the belly with the weight of a hammer swung full-arm. The second caught her thigh. The third and fourth went lower and the ground dissolved under her and she was going down and the sounds kept coming, the mud kept rising, and nothing worked—her hands would not answer, her cage would not form, the pain had become a single enormous fact that left no room for anything else.
She hit the ground.
From far away—or perhaps from directly above—she heard something land softly in front of her.
She could still feel. She tried to raise her hands. The magic would not come.
“You lost, coo.”
Darkness.
Chapter 535: The Gun of a Protector
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
…
It was twilight when Roland returned to the castle with the duel affairs settled.
“Do you really think Maggie will win?” Nightingale appeared behind Roland the moment he stepped into the office.
“What’re you worried about? You know that she’s been learning marksmanship all this time from Lightning, your own apprentice!” consoled Roland. “She’s brave enough, and she dared to fight with the demon in her beast personification at the critical juncture of Devil’s Town exploration last time. The only thing to be concerned is whether she’ll shoot at her peer.”
Maggie would suffer more startle than pain, and Iffy was not doomed to death. Nevertheless, this disdainful attitude towards non-combat witches was no different from a bomb in the platoon. Until she learned this impressive lesson and repented thoroughly for her misdeeds, Roland did not dare to bring her out to catch the demons.
The most profound lesson would be Maggie defeating Iffy.
Undoubtedly, the gun was a weapon that could enhance the ability of assistant witches so that they could acquire more power for fighting. To avoid accidental death, Roland had deliberately had Soraya produce a batch of rubber bullets. The metal head had been replaced with a multi-layer wrapped coating. This softened the bullet from interior to exterior and prevented it from entering a human body without weakening its full power. Its huge kinetic energy would be totally imposed on a human body as the bullet was gradually deformed, causing a pain severe enough to make the target lose any
ability to defend. That was why it was also known as the Ability-losing Bullet.
“I want to see her.” With discontent, Nightingale disappeared into the Mist.
Roland sighed gently as he clearly heard the crack of an arming gun from his side. He would have called for Nana if Iffy did not loosen Maggie as was expected.
It was rather obvious that Maggie dreaded the witches of the Bloodfang Association, which proved that they were used to doing such things on Sleeping Island. When considering Cara of the Witch Cooperation Association and then the inferior feelings Evelyn and Candle had when they had initially arrived, or even the Witch Union more than 400 years ago, there was no doubt that the idea of combat witches being nobler than others came naturally. In other words, the capable combat witches would certainly grasp more power when oppressed by foreign enemies. However, the force of gunpowder and firearms was strong enough to shorten the gap, Roland mused. Tilly might believe in him further if he could convert their thoughts.
“You should remember there is nothing to be worried about and you shall shoot directly at her until you empty the cartridge. You need to make her burst into tears and kneel down begging for mercy. Do you understand?” Lightning shouted in a high pitch, “Even if you were using normal bullets, Nana is here, ready for any accidents. Plus, there is the coating head made by Soraya. Only by shooting more bullets towards her, can you release yourself!”
“Hmm…” Maggie was leaning on the bed with her hair shielding her cheeks. “I understand.”
“Not yet!” Lightning pushed her long, white hair aside and said, “You don’t want to beat her, do you? If you show her any mercy, I’ll never take you exploring. A coward can never be an explorer!”
Maggie looked to be struggling. “I’m not…”
“She’s definitely not a coward.” Another voice came from behind them. “A coward does not dare to fight with a demon. Not to mention, she saved my life.”
Appearing from the Mist, Nightingale walked to the bedside and strongly struck Lightning in the forehead. “Who has taught you to speak this way!”
Lightning held her forehead and then curled her lip. “I’m just worried that she’ll have cold feet.”
After heaving a sigh, Nightingale took Maggie’s hands in her own. “Listen, this isn’t just about you and her. His Majesty has made these arrangements with the purpose of making witches in the Bloodfang Association change their attitudes towards other witches and regret their mistakes. Remember Evelyn and Candle? There’re many witches who had experiences similar to theirs on Sleeping Island. If you can teach Iffy a lesson, you’re actually doing them a favor to some extent.”
After a pause, Nightingale continued, “So, you’re not just fighting for yourself. You’re also fighting to protect us, just like what you did when fighting against the demon last time.”
“En…” Maggie nodded gently, blinking her eyes.
“One more thing. His Majesty Roland also promises that if you win, the ice cream and pepper barbecue shall be supplied without limitation for one week, just for you.”
“Coo!” Her eyes suddenly lit up.
The next day, in addition to the guards responsible for site-clearing, there were more than ten witches standing on the grassland outside the city wall. They were centered around Roland, congruously making bright cheers for Maggie.
“I won’t cheer for you.” Yawned Softfeathers. “You can’t hear it anyway.”
“You don’t need to do that.” Iffy scoffed as she slowly walked to the divided central field and looked at Maggie without emotion. Maggie stood opposite her, capped by her long hair. If victory was judged by the number of supporters, the church would have already unified the whole continent. “It’s not too late to give in. I trust you don’t want to let His Majesty down.”
“I’ll never give in, coo!”
She was slightly stunned. Since when did this bird dare to speak so affirmatively in the face of her? “Really? Then get ready to fall from the sky into a cage like a dog!”
“You can’t trap me,” Maggie raised her head and said. “The only one who can catch me in the sky is Lightning!”
The moment the start whistle rang, Iffy went straight towards Maggie. She was sure that Maggie could not beat a person with combat training like herself, even though Maggie was helped by the power of God’s Stone of Retaliation. His Majesty Roland had wrongly judged the fighting ability of combat witches. They relied not only on their power for fighting, they could also convert their body into a deadly weapon. By virtue of extraordinary physical fitness and restorability, witches could always withhold harsher training. She was confident that she could make her opponent throw in the towel in ten movements, even if it were a knight armed to the teeth.
With her wings rapidly spreading, Maggie changed into a bluebird and aimed skyward.
“Is this the stunt that you mentioned?” Iffy stretched out her arms in the direction Maggie had escaped. Her magic power did not reach anything. “This is a duel. Do you think you have anywhere to flee?”
“Chirp, chirp.” Flying higher and higher, the bird soon faded away. Only a series of silvery tweets remained.
Frowning, Iffy looked to the sky and suddenly a faintly discernible shadow in the direction of the rising sun appeared within her sight.
“Is she going to give me an unexpected attack hiding under the sunlight?” Iffy could not help but sneer. This might have been a good idea, but even with her eyes covered she was still able to sense any object within ten steps by using her magic power—a derivative skill that had awakened at her adulthood.
Moreover, what harm could a fist-sized bluebird do to her? To win, her opponent would inevitably have to change into that ferocious monster again!
While waiting for Maggie to return, the earth suddenly darkened as a cloud shielded the light of sunshine. Iffy then saw a bird falling from the sky.
What a wretch! It looked like Maggie was not lucky at all!
She extended her hands without hesitation. The victory would soon be hers!
But there was nothing… In front of her was only magic power. She felt no sign of Maggie whom she had expected to rush forward.
Maggie had abruptly stopped moving when 20 steps away from Iffy!
To Iffy’s surprise, Maggie recovered her human avatar in midair and pulled a short silvery stick from her pocket.
Was she mad?
Despite not having wings, Maggie did not drop directly to the ground. Her white hair had lifted and opened in a wing shape allowing her to descend slowly. Meanwhile, the stick spurted a ball of flame with a loud bang!
Iffy was clear that something had intruded the boundary of her magic power, but it could not have been Maggie, a crossbow, bolt or stone. It was not until she fetched out her cage that her belly was severely assaulted by something like a hammer, followed by her thighs and then calves. The loud sound rang continuously with the mud on the ground continually splashing. She could not make any sound due to intense pain and her seemingly broken feet were unable to support her body.
Iffy fell to the ground and clutched her stomach with her whole body huddled up. Her consciousness was becoming blurry.
Dimly, she saw a white figure falling in front of her. With one last effort, she poised her hands, but the magic no longer responded to her summon.
“You lost, coo.”
These were the last words she heard before she fainted.