CH547 · Rewrite
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Chapter 547: Operation “Melting Point”

Agatha paced in front of the mahogany table, three steps one direction, three steps back, each turn precise and impatient.

“So your argument is: the Sigil of God’s Will penetrates God’s Stone defenses because its magic power is stronger? And the Chaos Beasts modified God’s Stones by reducing their magic power — turning them from natural interference fields into specific Magic Stones?” She stopped. “That’s what you’re saying.”

“That’s the theory.”

“Then—” She halted mid-pace. “If the dark hollow results from immense magic power, why doesn’t it affect the witch? Anna’s power is strong enough to activate the Sigil twice. That makes her more powerful than the God’s Stone by your own logic. But her Blackfire is still suppressed by the God’s Stone — she generates no interference zone of her own. That contradicts everything you’ve just said.”

Roland was silent. He had no answer that fit.

Agatha resumed pacing, slower now, thinking aloud rather than interrogating. “Another problem: if magic power is what activates magic stones, why can’t common people do it? Even reduced magic power is still present in the stone. And why isn’t it transferable? The Quest Society confirmed it — you can’t extract magic power from a stone and use it as a resource. The stones are just gems before activation, just gems before a witch shapes them into sigils.” She stopped again. “My supervisor believed only living beings can retain functional magic power. Dead matter cannot hold it in any usable form. That was the accepted conclusion. I am not defending it against all revision — but your theory has to account for it.”

He couldn’t. Not yet.

There’s a connection between God’s Stones and the Sigil — Nightingale’s observation is too precise to dismiss. But I’m missing something structural. Something about how the power is organized, not just how much there is.

He set the problem aside. It would resurface when they began manufacturing sigils, and perhaps then there would be something concrete to examine. For now, the operation was three days out.

“I’ll return to it,” he said.

Agatha’s pacing stopped for good. “You’d better.” But there was no heat in it — only a researcher’s preference for problems that stayed solved.


Three days later, Roland walked to the dock.

Two paddle steamers rode the Redwater, their hulls low and steady. Experienced veterans from the First Army stood at the railings — men who had fought demonic beasts on the city wall beside Roland, who knew what it meant to face something that bled black and did not slow down. When he’d screened them, he had been direct: the enemy would likely be more dangerous than anything they had encountered. He had given every man the option to step back. No one had.

He did not romanticize this. Fear was not something that could be trained away in three rehearsals. These were men who would probably remember this battle in the particular way a person remembers events that leave a mark they don’t discuss — the kind of memory that comes back at strange hours.

He had structured the mission accordingly. The soldiers would hold the river line two to three kilometers from the actual battle. They would not engage the demons unless the witches were forced to fall back. Their purpose was a last resort and a retreat route, not a fighting force.

The witches were another matter.

Anna, Nightingale, Wendy, Leaf, Agatha, Sylvie, Iffy, Lightning, Maggie. According to Agatha, this combination could handle a Lord of Hell. Roland had no way to verify that claim and no desire to test it.

“Stay safe.” He looked at each of them. “Your personal safety is the priority. You are not required to complete the mission. I’ll be waiting at the castle.”

Anna stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. She said nothing.

“Me too, Your Majesty.”

Lightning threw herself at him next, Maggie becoming a pigeon on his shoulder and tucking into the side of his neck with a small sound of self-satisfaction.

Then everyone else, in turn.

Agatha stood apart, arms folded, watching the display with an expression caught between exasperation and something she wouldn’t name. “It’s a hunting operation, not a final farewell. If we had bid goodbye like this before every departure in Taquila, the demons would have been past our gates long before the Union fell.”

Iffy stood apart too, though for different reasons.

You don’t have to complete the mission. Just come home.

She had grown up in an organization where those who failed were punished, and those who died were considered liabilities. She had watched combat witches take the field knowing that failure meant humiliation, and surviving failure sometimes meant wishing you hadn’t. She had carried that understanding so long it had stopped feeling like an assumption and started feeling like the shape of the world.

Roland Wimbledon did not treat witches as weapons, or as burdens, or as problems to be managed.

He treated them as people.

She was still not sure what to do with that.


The whistles sounded. Steam rose in white columns. The paddle wheels churned the Redwater into pale froth and the two ships began to move.

Roland stood at the dock and watched them until the water settled.

Then, between one moment and the next, cold hands cupped his face from behind — soft, precise, slightly chill. He had learned what that felt like.

“Take care of yourself while I’m away.” Nightingale’s voice was close to his ear. “Don’t leave the castle without reason.” A small pause. “I’ll come back soon.”

Something light touched his lips. Warmer than her hands. Brief and then gone.

He reached into the air and closed his hand on nothing.


Paddle steamers moved slowly. The journey upriver took nearly two days.

When the snowcap came into sight above the treeline, the witches went quiet. The melt had accelerated since spring’s opening, and months of accumulation had gathered along the precipice in streams that looked, from a distance, like pale threads draped over the cliff face. Up close, those threads were as wide as rivers, the water roaring into the lake at the mountain’s base with a sound that carried deep into the chest.

The Redwater River was only one of the lake’s exits. The others were simply less visible.

After a night’s rest on the bank, the hydrogen balloon rose with the morning and the Farsight began to inflate. The fleet pulled three kilometers back to the river’s edge and began building a defensive line.

Operation Melting Point had begun.

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