Through the colorful magic stone ring, No. 76 observed the dialogue each witch held with God as she performed magic.
The dialogue appeared as a pale orange light connecting the witch to the vast sky above.
According to the documented records from the maze, demons and certain hybrid demonic beasts produced the same type of orange light.
God shows no particular care for the world.
The thought unsettled her every time it surfaced.
Against the countless demons, witches were not a powerful nation. Their abilities couldn’t be inherited or cultivated—the only path to awakening was luck. And even then, their magic tended to be weaker than that of their enemies.
Fortunately, a Key was not a fixed thing. High Awakening could change it, allowing a witch to receive greater force through the deities. It offered the only real leverage they had.
Since leaving the Kingdom of Dawn, No. 76 had observed the orange lights of Amy, Annie, and Hero. Hero’s was the strongest; Annie’s the weakest. But in general the differences were small—all three burned at roughly the same width, perhaps a finger’s breadth, and all three fell far short of what would be needed to activate the Instrument of Divine Retribution.
She had good reason to believe the Chosen One would be a Senior Witch.
The cabin door opened and Yorko, the Ambassador of Graycastle, stepped in. He raised his eyebrows at the smell and came to the bedside. “The stench from that herb is worse than a latrine. Who decided this qualified as medicine?”
“Perhaps the sailors thought a sufficiently pungent smell would repel the demonic plague.” No. 76 allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. “In any case, I feel better. The wound is mostly scarred now.”
This had nothing to do with the herbs. It had everything to do with the capabilities of a God’s Punishment Warrior’s body.
“If that medicine is useless, I will absolutely have those sailors put their heads in the latrine—they can familiarize themselves with the smell personally.” Yorko found himself a bench and sat. “Amy told me you asked whether they had special prescriptions.”
“She mentioned that.”
“Ahem. Lying to a noble is a serious offense—they have only themselves to blame.” He settled more comfortably. “My standard advice, when a cure is uncertain: tell them to take it with hot water and honey. Even if it does nothing, they’ll leave smiling. Oh—I don’t mean that applies to you.”
No. 76 let herself laugh. During the voyage, Yorko had visited at least once a day. The visits were brief, but she had come to enjoy them. He was an ordinary person in most respects, but in the company of a woman he became funnier than most nobles she’d known. Even in Taquila he would have been noticed. After so many centuries in a body that felt nothing, conversation had become one of the few remaining pleasures—one of the only ways time passed with any texture.
After a while, the ambassador fell uncharacteristically quiet.
No. 76 watched him and then propped herself up on one arm. “Sir—do you need me to serve you? Though my body is still rather stiff…”
“I have told you this before.” He pressed a hand to his forehead. “You are not my maid. Stop using the word ‘serve’ every time you speak with someone. You are a free person in Graycastle—do you understand?” He paused. “And you are still wounded. I am not one of those depraved upper nobles.”
“So you only came to talk with me?”
Yorko’s expression shifted slightly. He cleared his throat. “Er—I actually have a question. When you arrive at Neverwinter, what do you plan to do?”
“A tavern, perhaps. Work as a waitress. Or a gambling house—that would also suit.” No. 76 tilted her head. “Assuming a witch there can repair what happened to my body.”
She would do whatever allowed her to stay in Neverwinter. She had already won the trust of the Kingdom of Dawn witches. With that foundation, she would work her way into familiarity with the Witch Union, and through the Witch Union find the Chosen One.
“You should try something else,” Yorko said. “You’re free now. Try something new.”
“The Black Money taught me how to serve men. I wanted to be a guard, but with a repaired leg, I won’t move the way I once did.”
“The people of Neverwinter will teach you. I’ve heard from His Majesty that his kingdom arranges proper work for everyone.” He paused longer than the sentence warranted. “If you encounter difficulties there—after I’ve arrived—you can come to me. As long as I haven’t left yet.”
He hesitated that long, only to say that.
No. 76 felt something she recognized distantly as emotion. In the Kingdom of Dawn she had watched how easily troubled a person he was. A promise like this—however simple—was not easy for him.
“I’ll try.” She lowered her head. “Thank you.”
Four days later, the sailors brought good news: they had reached Neverwinter, the new city in the Western Region of Graycastle.
The witches crowded into No. 76’s room, anxious and restless, waiting for direction. Annie was the worst—she opened the window every few minutes to check the dock, and her expression made clear she was ready to have everyone jump into the cold river at the first sign of trouble.
No. 76, who couldn’t move to the window herself, could only listen. The dock was loud—a bugle sounding repeatedly, the river slapping against the hull, the noise of what sounded like hundreds of boats in close proximity.
“It’s the Months of Demons now. How is the dock this busy?”
“Sister Annie—where are the sails on those boats?” Amy asked in astonishment.
“Maybe the sailors are rowing under the deck.” Annie stopped mid-sentence and flattened herself against the window frame. “Quiet! Someone is coming!”
Broken Sword tensed. “How many?”
“Four people. They haven’t noticed us.” Annie’s frown deepened. “And… they’re all women.”
“They’re all witches?” Amy shot to her feet. “I knew the Ambassador wasn’t lying to us!”
“The Bloodfang Association was all witches too,” No. 76 said quietly. “That didn’t make them the same as us. Watch my signals. Follow them, as before.”
“Understood.” Everyone nodded.
A knock, and then the door opened. Four girls entered. The leader had red hair. “Welcome to Neverwinter, sisters!” she said, with a warmth that seemed entirely without performance.
Annie’s wariness didn’t dissolve, but it bent slightly under the weight of it. Even No. 76 felt a moment of genuine surprise. In Taquila, the witches had been organized by ability and rank—senior over junior, combat over non-combat. A stranger arriving would have been assessed before she was welcomed. Does she even distinguish abilities?
At that moment, No. 76 noticed a blonde-haired girl among the four looking directly at her. A beautiful, confident smile. Eyes that seemed to take in more than they revealed.
No. 76 looked away, performing timidity. The examination, she suspected, had already begun.
Translator: TransN Editor: Meh
Using this colorful magic stone ring, No. 76 could observe the “dialogue” a witch had with God as she performed magic.
This dialogue appeared as a pale orange light which connected the witch with the vast sky.
According to the documented records, demons and some hybrid demonic beasts could produce the same type of orange light.
God did not show tender care for the world.
Every time she thought about this, she became worried.
When compared to the innumerable demons, the witches were not as powerful a nation. Their powers could not be inherited and also could not be cultivated. The only way of awakening a witch’s power was luck. Moreover, their magic powers were weaker than that of the enemies.
Fortunately, the Key was not a predestined thing.
They could change the Key through a High Awakening. By doing this, they could receive a more powerful force through God.
Since leaving the Kingdom of Dawn, No.76 had observed the orange lights of Amy, Annie, and Hero. Hero was the strongest of them, while Annie was the weakest. However, in general, the differences between the three was negligible. They were all about the same size, the width of a finger, and they were all far away from the request of starting the Instrument of Divine Retribution.
She had reasons to believe that a Senior Witch was the Chosen One.
The cabin door opened suddenly and Yorko, the Ambassador of Graycastle, entered. He arched his eyebrows, went to the bedside and said, “The smell of this herb is more nauseating than the latrine. Why would someone use such a malodorous thing in medicine?”
“Maybe the sailors thought that the demonic plague could be cured by its pungent smell,” No.76 said as she smiled smugly. “Regardless, my body feels better and my wound is just a scar now.”
Of course, this had nothing to do with the medicine, rather, it depended on the individual bodies of the wonderful God’s Punishment Army.
“If it’s useless, I”m going to absolutely put their heads into the latrine. So they can become familiar with the smell of this medicine.” Yorko chose a bench and sat down.
“Those poor sailors,” she whispered. “Amy told me that you asked them if they had any special prescriptions.”
“Ahem. Lying to a noble is a grave crime and they can only blame themselves,” the ambassador said. “If you can’t get a real answer, just tell them to drink it with hot water and honey. Even if it doesn’t cure their wound, they will still leave smiling and satisfied. Oh… I’m not referring to you!”
No.76 smiled with abandon. During the long boat trip, Yoko visited her at least once a day. The visits were short, but they always had a nice talk. She thought that perhaps Yorko was an average person, but when he spent time with a woman, he was more humorous than many of the other nobles. Even if they were in Taquila, he would have become famous. After she lost most of her senses, verbal communication had become one of the most pleasant ways to pass the time.
After chatting for a while, the ambassador unusually became quiet.
No.76 thought for a moment before she propped up her body with one hand and tentatively asked, “Sir, do you need me to serve you? Although my body
is inflexible…”
“I’ve said it many times before, you aren’t my maid. Don’t use the word ‘serve’ every time you meet with others. You’re a free person in Graycastle now, understand?” He held his forehead and said, “You’re still wounded and I’m not one of those upper nobles who have a morbid addiction.”
“So, you just want to talk with me?”
After hearing that, Yorko’s facial expression changed a little. He cleared his throat and said, “Er… Actually, I have a question to ask you. After you arrive at King’s City, what do you plan to do?”
“Er… Go to a tavern and become a maid? Maybe work at the gambling house, that would also be OK.” No.76 tilted her head as she said, “That is if the witch can finally cure my body.”
If she could stay in Neverwinter, she would be able to do anything. She had gained the trust of the witches of the Kingdom of Dawn, so she would finally get a chance to become familiar with other members of the Witch Union.
“You should do something else,” Yorko dissuaded her, “since you are free, you should try something new.”
“How? The ‘Black Money’ only taught me how to serve men. Although I wanted to become a guard, my repaired limb won’t be as flexible as before.”
“The people from Neverwinter will teach you. I heard from His Majesty that his kingdom provides everyone with formal work.” Yorko said, before pausing… “If you meet with any difficulties in the future, you can come to me at any time, as long as I haven’t left.”
“Did he hesitate for so long time, only to say these words to me” No.76 couldn’t help feeling a little emotional. When she was in the Kingdom of Dawn, she clearly saw how troubled a person he is. Perhaps making a promise like this was difficult for him.
“Um… I’ll try.” She lowered her head before saying, “Thank you!”
…
After four days had passed, the sailors brought good news. They had finally reached the new city in the western region of Graycastle— Neverwinter.
The witches all gathered in No.76’s room, they were anxious and waiting for their next order. Among them all, Annie was the most anxious. She opened the window and glanced at the dock every now and then. If she found something worrisome, she would get everyone to jump into the cold river without thinking.
But, No.76 felt it was too noisy, the loud bugle was incessant and the river continually lashed the side of the ship and there were like a thousand other boats floating around them.
“It’s the Months of Demons now. Even though it is summer, how is the dock so busy?”
However, she couldn’t move, so she couldn’t see the scene outside her window.
“Where are the sails on these boats, Sister Annie?” Amy was asked in astonishment.
“Maybe the sailors are rowing under the deck.” Annie suddenly stopped and leaned against the window, “Be quiet! Someone is coming!”
Broken Sword felt anxious and asked, “How many people are out there?”
“Only four people, I don’t think they noticed us.” Annie knitted her brow, “And… they’re all women.”
“They’re all witches?” Amy stood up suddenly, “I knew that Mr. Ambassador hadn’t lied to us!”
“The members of the Bloodfang Association are all witches, but they aren’t the same as us,” she said in a low voice, “essentially, just follow my nonverbal orders like before.”
“OK!” Everyone nodded.
Soon someone knocked on the door and the four girls entered the room. The leader was a red-haired lady. “Welcome to Neverwinter, sisters!” she said with a smile.
Annie was astonished, she hadn’t thought they would be so friendly. Even No.76 looked surprised. Although in Taquila the witches were abundant, they were not friendly enough to welcome a newly awakened witch… “Do they even differentiate the witches abilities?”
The fact a combat witch could be compared to a non-combat witch was an unrespectable thing.
At that moment, No.76 suddenly found a blonde-haired girl looking directly at her. Her beautiful smile confirmed her identity and her sharp eyes seemed to see through them all.