Chapter 630: The Captive Pure Witch
Never in her life had Nightingale felt remorse like this.
She had believed that staying at Roland’s side meant no one could hurt him. That her presence was sufficient. That her speed and her eyes—which could see the world drained of its color, magic blazing white against the dark—were enough to guarantee his safety.
Roland lay unconscious on the bed in the Deepvalley Town castle. Nightingale stood beside him without a mark on her body.
There was no magic reaction inside him. His organs were intact. The healers and Agatha had worked through every test they knew—no Seed of Peaceful Death, no ability that destroyed tissue. Whatever Zero had done left no trace that any of them could read. Even Agatha’s knowledge, accumulated across a century in the Union’s service, stopped short of a diagnosis. Without understanding the mechanism, there was no method of reversal.
He breathed. Otherwise he did not respond to anything.
Nightingale finally understood what Agatha had warned her about. There was no defense that covered every possibility. No position, however well-held, that a witch’s ability could not find a path through.
She had understood too late.
Footsteps, rapid, coming down the corridor. Lightning hit the door with both hands and pushed it open.
“The pure witch is awake!”
The room came alive. The witches straightened, looked at each other, looked at Nightingale.
“Everyone settle down.” Wendy’s voice carried the room without effort. “We can’t all go—too many people, and we still don’t know what her ability is. Agatha and Nightingale will go. The rest of us stay here.”
The other witches quieted. Wendy had that effect: not authority exactly, but something that made people trust the steadiness beneath her words.
Nightingale took a breath and met Wendy’s eyes with a nod. “I’ll handle it.”
She knew her own state. Guilt and grief were real, but they were also useless in this room, and worse than useless in the next one. She had made an error and she could not undo it—but she could refuse to compound it by falling apart when the chance to fix things had finally arrived.
She had to bring Roland back.
“Let’s go,” Agatha said.
At the door, Nightingale looked back. Anna sat on the edge of the bed with her eyes fixed on Roland’s face, as still as if she had forgotten the room existed.
Nightingale felt her guilt sharpen.
The servant’s room on the castle’s first floor had been converted with care. Dozens of God’s Stones of Retaliation had been set into the walls at regular intervals, creating a field of suppression that left only a narrow volume at the room’s center where a witch could cast at all. It was as thorough a containment as they could build without permanent architecture.
Nightingale had briefed herself on what they knew about the prisoner.
The First Army had found three pure witches alive in the square pit left by the Magic Ark, within what had been the third trench. One was lucid. One was unconscious. One was in shock, shaking. The lucid one had given her name: Vanilla. She explained that five pure witches had been operating underground—Zero, Isabella, Blackveil, Margie, and herself. Her role, and Margie’s, had been limited to identifying Roland’s location and providing covert transportation. They knew little of the higher-level plan. Zero, Isabella, and Blackveil had all been directly affiliated with the Pope, their abilities kept secret even from most of the church hierarchy.
Blackveil was dead. Zero had vanished. That left Isabella.
The examination had found that Isabella’s coma resulted from total magic depletion. She should have recovered in a day or two. She had not woken for five days. Nightingale had wanted to use a knife. Wendy had talked her out of it.
A God’s Stone of unusual form had been found on Isabella’s person—the magic crystal completely destroyed, the design unrecognizable to Agatha.
“She woke on her own,” Lightning told them as they approached. “It was Ashes’s watch when she sat up and said the prison wouldn’t hold her.”
“Is she challenging us?” Nightingale’s voice came out flat.
“We’ll find out,” Agatha said.
Past the layered guard of First Army soldiers, through the narrow door. No windows. A single rosined torch high on the wall, burning dim and steady. A wooden bed-frame, a small table, nothing else.
Isabella sat on the bed with her back straight, her curled hair falling naturally to her shoulders, turned copper-gold in the firelight. She was still dressed in the priest’s robe she had been taken in—bloodstained, dusty, the dust dried to yellow spots on the fabric.
Before Nightingale could speak, Isabella said: “It seems Zero has failed completely.” Her voice was measured, unhurried. “In the end, God didn’t favor her.”
“Favor her?” Nightingale kept her tone cold.
“Don’t worry.” If she registered the contempt, she gave no sign. “I’ll tell you everything I know. After that, I’m at your disposal.”
Nightingale read her. She was telling the truth—the certainty settled in the way it always did, a particular quality of stillness that liars couldn’t hold. It caught her off guard. This was not the posture of a prisoner calculating leverage.
“You told Lightning this prison can’t hold you,” she said. “But you’re choosing to stay.”
“My ability affects the God’s Stone of Retaliation,” Isabella said, slowly, as if explaining something she expected would not be believed. “Given a surface to work from, I can make the stones lose their effect—as many stones as you’ve embedded in these walls. But I can’t walk through walls or pass through earth. This room is still a cell.” A pause. “Building it was a waste of effort, but I understand why you did it.”
Agatha stepped forward. “You can influence the God’s Stone?”
“They look like bottomless black holes—they are, in a sense. But I can collapse that effect.”
Nightingale’s hands closed into fists at her sides. “Then it was you. You made His Majesty’s God’s Stone stop working.”
“I had no choice.” Isabella’s expression did not change. “Zero had become… consumed. She believed that only one of them could be chosen by God—herself or Roland. There was no reasoning with that.”
Agatha laid her hand over Nightingale’s fist, gently, and asked: “Is it Zero’s ability that has kept His Majesty unconscious? What does she do?”
Isabella frowned. “Unconscious? In a Soul Battlefield, there should be a winner and loser within moments of entry. If Roland didn’t become Zero immediately—” she paused— “then Zero failed. Is he unconscious because he can’t process the memories?”
Nightingale and Agatha looked at each other.
“Soul Battlefield,” Nightingale said.
“Yes.” Isabella’s voice dropped. “A battle of spirit and will. The winner takes everything—memories, knowledge, years of life. The loser loses everything. Since Zero first awakened as a witch, she had never been defeated. She had consumed hundreds of commoners and witches over the years, absorbed their entire selves, and lived on through what she took. That is how she reached two hundred years of age.” She closed her eyes. “I never thought she could be beaten by an ordinary prince.”
Chapter 630: The Captive Pure Witch
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
Never before in her life had Nightingale felt so remorseful and regretful.
She thought that as long as she stayed with Roland, no one could hurt him.
However, without any bruises on her body, Nightingale stood in the bedroom of the castle in Deepvalley Town while Roland lay unconscious on the bed.
There was not any magic reaction inside Roland’s body and his internal organs were all intact. Therefore, Roland was neither cursed by a Seed of Peaceful Death or something like that nor hurt by a powerful ability capable of destroying organs. Even though Agatha was knowledgeable, she could not distinguish this ability, let alone its breaking method.
The witches had used all of the regular wake-up means they could think of, but they were all useless. Roland did not respond to any outside stimulus. If he was not breathing, Roland would have been considered dead.
Now, Nightingale finally understood the warning from Agatha.
There was no absolutely safe defense, even in front of the witches’ abilities.
But her understanding was too late.
At this moment, hurried footsteps came from behind the door. Then Lightning opened the door and shouted. “The pure witch has woken up!”
The witches in the room all instantly got excited.
“Everyone stay calm. It’s useless for us all to go and investigate her,” Wendy said, “besides, we’re not clear about her ability. For the sake of safety, Miss
Agatha and Nightingale can go and figure this out for us.”
Respected deeply by the other witches, they all quietened at Wendy’s calm tone.
Nightingale took a deep breath and nodded to Wendy. “I’ll handle it.”
Based on her experience from being a runaway for several years, Nightingale was fully aware that her negative mood would not help to change the existing situation. She could not shirk her responsibilities because of a mistake she had made, no matter how big and especially at such a critical juncture.
She must bring His Majesty, Roland back.
“Let’s go,” Agatha sighed and said.
When leaving the room, Nightingale could not help but look back to see that Anna was sat motionless on the bed with her eyes staring at Roland, as if no other things could draw her attention.
Nightingale felt even guiltier in her heart.
…
A servant room on the first floor of the castle that had been altered into a special detention room. Dozens of God’s Stone of Retaliation were embedded behind the four walls forming a black hole, and thus, an antiability prison had been readied. Only by standing in the center of the room could a witch cast her ability.
Nightingale was very clear about the target she was about to investigate.
After the battle, the First Army found three pure witches that were still alive in a square-shaped pit within the third trench. One was detached, one was in a coma and the last one was conscious but trembling. According to the last one, there were five pure witches hidden underground, Zero, Isabella, Blackveil, Margie and herself, Vanilla.
According to Vanilla’s intelligence, she and Margie were only responsible for identifying the location of His Majesty, Roland and sneakily escorting the other three to the battle. Thus they knew little about other arrangements. As for Zero, Isabella and Blackveil, they all were directly affiliated with the pope and had the same status as an archbishop. Besides, their abilities were hidden by the Holy Church so that few knew the details. Blackveil was already dead and Zero had disappeared, so they could only get the breaking method from Isabelle.
After an examination, they had found out that the reason that Isabella was in a coma was that she had used all of her magic power. Therefore, Isabella would fully recover in one or two days. In addition, Agatha got a strange sigil on her hand, but she could not identify it because the magic stone was completely ruined.
Unexpectedly, Isabella had been in a coma for five days and so Nightingale had been quite anxious, even wanting to forcibly wake her up with a knife. Lest for Wendy, she would have done so.
“Was she woken up?” Agatha asked Lightning.
Lighting shook her head and said, “She woke up by herself. When it was Ashes’ turn to examine her, Isabella sat on the head of the bed and told us that the prison was useless for her.”
Nightingale’s face became dark, asking, “Is she challenging us now?”
“We’ll find out,” Agatha said calmly.
Having passed through the layers of the strict guards of the First Army, Nightingale and Agatha walked into a narrow room where there were no windows. A rosined torch was hung high above their heads which gave off a dim light. There was nothing in this room other than a vertical wooden bed and a short table.
Isabella sat motionlessly on the head of the bed. Her curled hair dropped naturally on her shoulders and became golden-red under the firelight. She
was still dressed in that bloody robe of priests with dust on her face that had solidified into yellow spots.
“It seems that Zero has completely failed,” before Nightingale asked her, Isabella took the initiative to say, “Finally, she isn’t blessed by God.”
“Blessed by God?” Nightingale smiled coldly.
“Don’t worry and I’ll tell you everything I know,” as if she did not hear the sarcasm, Isabella sighed and said, “then, I’ll be at your disposal.”
Nightingale was stunned by Isabella’s attitude because she knew that Isabella was telling the truth.
But it was a little too late to be a lamb. “You’ve claimed that this prison can’t hold you, haven’t you? But now you choose to submit to fate?”
“I’m capable of making the God’s Stone of Retaliation lose effect. As long as I have a platform, God’s Stone would be useless, even if there are as many stones as you have here,” Isabella said slowly, “Except for that, I can neither walk through a wall nor escape away underground, so it’s a waste to arrange such a room for me.”
“You’re capable of influencing the God’s Stone?” Agatha was very surprised and asked.
Isabella said frankly, “They indeed look like bottomless black holes… but I can make them lose effect.”
“You mean that it was you who made the God’s Stone worn by His Majesty, Roland lose effect?” Nightingale clenched her hands into fists.
“I had no other choice at that moment. Zero had become blinded by God. She believed that only one of the two can be blessed by God.”
Agatha covered Nightingale’s hand and calmly asked, “Is it Zero who made His Majesty unconscious? What’s her ability?”
Isabella frowned and said, “Unconscious? There should be a winner and loser instantly when a Soul Battlefield begins. If Roland didn’t become Zero instantly, it means that Zero failed. Is he unconscious because he can’t accept the huge volume of memories?”
Nightingale and Agatha looked at each other. “Soul Battlefield?”
“Yes,” Isabella said with her voice down, “that’s a battle about spirit and will. The winner gets everything, while the loser loses everything. Since Zero was awakened to be a witch, she’s never failed in the Battle of Souls. She’s engulfed numberless commoners and witches and absorbed their memories, knowledge and longevity. So for the time being, Zero has lived for over 200 years.” Speaking of which, Isabella closed her eyes sadly, saying, “I never thought that she would be defeated by a common prince.”