CH626 · Rewrite
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Chapter 626: Battle of Fate (I)

Was everything… a dream?

Roland walked to the rooftop fence and looked down at the school spread below him in the last light of evening. The playground was empty. The goalposts cast long shadows across the field. Beyond them, the library and dormitory caught the sunset in their windows, gold and perfectly still.

Seven years he had studied here. He knew every angle of it.

He knew he was standing on the roof of the teaching building. He knew this was where he came when he had time to spare.

Except—this campus was never empty at six in the evening. The field below should have been crossed by a dozen figures, the windows should have carried the sounds of dormitory life. The silence was wrong in a way that was precise and deliberate, like a painting that had captured everything visible and nothing alive.

He raised his hands. They were a prince’s hands—pale and narrow, not the ones he had spent his university years with. He touched the gray hair where it fell across his shoulder. The shape and height were wrong for who he was.

What happened?

The last image he had was Nightingale’s face—panic stripped bare, her expression so open it was almost unbearable—and then a flash of white, and then nothing.

“Who are you?”

The voice came from nowhere, unhurried and clear.

He spun. A woman was walking toward him from the direction of the stairwell door. White hair, long enough to move with her steps. Eyes the color of dark rubies. Her robe—red and white, threaded with gold at the hem—was nothing this era had ever produced, and the golden crown at her temples answered the question before he could ask it.

“You’re a pure witch. Church of Hermes.”

“Yes.” She paused a few steps away. “And the Fifteenth Pope of the Holy City. My name is Zero.” A tilt of the head. “You are not Roland Wimbledon.”

Roland frowned. “Did you create this place?”

Everything assembled itself: the flash must have been Zero’s ability. The school rooftop must be an illusion—some constructed interior space, a soul battlefield, whatever the church called it. The moment he had opened his eyes and seen the familiar campus, he had believed for one instant that he was home. That the past years had been the dream.

He noticed something else: the church had turned witches into God’s Punishment Warriors, and the woman responsible was herself a witch. The hypocrisy sat in him like a splinter.

“No.” Zero walked forward steadily. “You created it. It lives in your memory—a place you return to constantly, in thought if not in body. I’m curious where it is. Prince Roland of Graycastle never lived anywhere like this.”

“Why would I tell you?” Roland moved along the fence, keeping the distance.

What breaks an illusion? He had been in nightmares before. Jumping from a height was supposed to work—the shock of falling, the body’s reflex, the sudden waking. He looked over the fence at the ground below.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Zero’s tone was pleasant. “I’ll spend a little time and work it out—who you are, where you came from, why you’re wearing this prince’s face.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

Zero stopped. Her expression shifted slightly—not quite surprise, but its near neighbor. “You know, I explain the rules to everyone I trap in this place. The effects, the limits, what it will cost them.” She paused. “Everyone except you.”

“What?”

He felt her presence at his side before he saw her move.

The pain arrived with no preamble. He looked down and found a blade in his chest—the handle flush against his sternum, the point somewhere behind his heart. He opened his mouth and air did not come. The thoracic cavity opened and closed uselessly. The agony was not sharp; it was total, occupying every nerve simultaneously like a current run through standing water.

He would have traded anything for it to stop.

“Because I don’t like confusion.”

Zero stood at the other end of the knife, her robe splashed dark. His vision contracted. Hypoxia and the brain’s last merciful reflex descended together.

Then Roland was standing beside the fence again, his chest intact, his heart slamming against his ribs.

He looked down at his hands. There was a phantom of blood on the ground—the shape of it, the impression of what had been.

That was real. The wound still ached, a residual ghost of sensation. He pressed his palm to his chest, feeling it rise and fall.

Across the rooftop, Zero stood exactly where she had stood before.

She was holding a knife. There had been nothing in her hand a moment ago.

She can make things. He registered it as a tactical fact and turned to run.

One step.

The knife opened him at the abdomen. This death took longer than the first—he was on the ground, breathing the smell of his own blood, listening to himself make sounds he had never imagined he was capable of making.

His second resurrection brought clarity.

This is not a nightmare that fear breaks. This is a cyclical arena. He looked at Zero calmly while his hands were still shaking. What are the exit conditions? Can I win?

He reached for something. A blue shimmer answered—a transparent riot shield materialized in his hands. When Zero moved again, he raised it. The impact flung him six meters across the roof, and the shield bore a deep scar but held.

She could be stopped. Slowed.

He dropped the shield, concentrated harder, and pulled an assault rifle into existence. He raised it.

Zero was gone.

“I’m right here.”

Her voice arrived an instant before the white light.

His arms lay on the ground beside him, and so did the rifle.

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