Rewrite That Witch
CH545 · Rewrite
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Chapter 545: Battle Rehearsal

North of the city wall, beyond the last buildings, the old test field lay open to the morning sky.

Iffy arrived to find the witches already gathered: small clusters and quiet conversations, some she recognized, some she didn’t. Among them, a golden-haired girl was dragging Maggie toward the far edge of the field by the hand, stopping once to turn and shake her fist at Iffy with an expression of pure adolescent fury.

Lightning. The name surfaced from somewhere.

Three days ago, Iffy would have called her back and explained, at length and without apology, why a combat witch was owed a certain degree of respect. Today she watched them go and felt the corner of her mouth lift.

The girl’s ferocity — the way she had stepped forward, putting herself between Maggie and whatever she thought Iffy might do — was familiar in a way Iffy hadn’t expected.

When I was that age, Annie was exactly like that. She was always moving first, always placing herself in front.

They had found their way to the same mountain refuge by chance. What the Union seemed to mean by sisters was something else — something built deliberately, over time, out of choice.

Iffy didn’t yet know if she deserved a word like that.

“Since everyone is here,” Roland said, moving into the center of the field, “I’ll explain the mission.” He had a way of occupying space without commanding attention — or perhaps commanding it precisely by not demanding it. “It is codenamed ‘Melting Point.’ Commander will be Agatha. Many of you already know the details. For those who don’t, I’ll cover everything.”

Those who don’t — that’s me.

Iffy drew herself straight and listened.

What followed was not what she had expected.

The witches built a civilization that spanned the entire continent. It was destroyed — by demons. The blue-haired commander is more than four hundred years old, a survivor of that destruction. The Battle of Divine Will will determine whether mankind survives or is consumed. And those demons are somewhere close to the Western Region. Close enough to hunt.

She held her face still and looked at the other witches.

Not one of them looked surprised.

They had all known. She was the last to arrive at something they had been living with for months.

Roland stepped back and Agatha stepped forward.

“Our intelligence confirms an Eye Demon in the demons’ camp.” The blue-haired witch’s voice was precise and completely without warmth — not hostility, Iffy decided, but the unadorned efficiency of someone accustomed to briefing before battles where mistakes meant deaths. “Eye Demons do not require line of sight. If they sense they have been noticed, they respond. From a distance, the first response will be Flying Devilbeasts. In our previous visit, there were two. I do not expect the number to have changed.”

“We are disadvantaged in aerial combat, so we draw them down. Once they are on the ground, I can handle both.” She glanced at Iffy. “The Mad Demons they carry will be Iffy’s responsibility. Capture them if possible. That will constitute mission success.”

She looks barely older than me, Iffy thought, studying the sharp lines of Agatha’s face. And she has been alive for four centuries.

“I — I understand,” Iffy said, a beat late.

“You have never encountered demons.” Agatha seemed to read the hesitation accurately. “Doubt is normal. Wendy keeps records of the Association’s encounters with them. After the rehearsal, review them. Better to know what you are facing before you face it.”

Does she think I’ll freeze? Iffy’s jaw tightened. Whatever comes out of hell itself, it will be weeping in my cage before this is done.

“How do we draw them to the ground?” Lightning asked from across the field.

Agatha crouched and arranged stones into a diagram. “Abandon the balloon and enter the Misty Forest. When Sylvie confirms they are in pursuit, Lightning and Maggie escort the balloon crew to the trees. The Farsight can be operated by Wendy alone, so she and Sylvie will exit simultaneously. Once the Devilbeasts approach the balloon, Lightning, you will lure them into the forest. Their vision will be obstructed and they will descend to hunt on foot. Avoid their spears — I trust you can.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Lightning said. The grin on her face was unambiguous.

“The forest is Leaf’s domain. Once demons enter the ambush zone, they are contained.” She looked around the field. “You know what to do next.”

A witch with jade-green hair raised her hand. “What if there are more than two Devilbeasts?”

“Several Devilbeasts may split up to hunt separately. Keep surveillance in the balloon. Anna handles aerial threats. Remember: the Sigil of God’s Will has a fixed lethal radius. Wait for them to cluster before activating it. And while Anna is using the Sigil, she cannot use her own power. Leaf — during that time, you protect Anna.”

“What about me?” Nightingale asked.

“You accompany Iffy. Her ability is effective within ten steps, which means she is exposed at range. You shorten the distance.” Agatha glanced at Nightingale, then at Iffy. “You use your Mist.”

Nightingale looked at Iffy with an attention that felt like something being measured. Iffy felt it — a pressure in the air, cold and sharp as a blade held flat.

“Don’t be a burden,” Nightingale said.

Iffy recognized it for what it was. Not cruelty. A combat witch. One who has been in real battles and knows exactly how much a weak link costs.

“Begin the rehearsal.” Agatha clapped once. “We start with luring.”

An hour in, Iffy had her answer.

These were not the assistant witches Heidi had always dismissed. The combat witches of the Bloodfang Association were skilled and brutal in controlled conditions — but what she was seeing here was different in kind.

Leaf, for instance: she hid inside a living tree and controlled the surrounding forest as though it were an extension of herself. The ability simply exceeded the categories Iffy had been given to think with.

Wendy managed the balloon with apparent ease, but in the rehearsal intervals she raised a small hurricane that turned loose stones and dirt into stinging projectiles. It wasn’t precise, but it didn’t need to be.

Agatha’s frost created geometry — shields that curved, blades that cut, barriers that shifted. She was equally dangerous at any range. The question was not whether she could fight, but whether anything in a normal battle could reach her.

And Nightingale — once she entered the Mist, she was simply gone. She passed through physical obstructions as though they didn’t exist. She could emerge anywhere within the radius she’d moved, soundlessly, without warning. In a real battle, there was no defense against that. There was nowhere to watch. Enemies would simply find themselves dying with no understanding of why.

She would make any battle hopeless for the other side, Iffy thought. Utterly hopeless.

But none of these was the ace.

The mission plan named Anna. A girl who looked barely past her adolescence, with a calm that had nothing of combat in it. According to the plan, this was the person who would finish everything at once.

What kind of power can do that?

Iffy did not have to wait long.

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