CH535 · Rewrite
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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.

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