Rewrite That Witch
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Chapter 774: Divine Land

Roland watched the Taquila Senior Witches move.

Their tentacles had a clear division of labor. The short ones twisted beneath them like coiling roots, bearing weight and serving as legs. The long ones probed the ground ahead, inserting into the earth to correct direction, read the surface, or simply anchor a turn. Some of those longest tentacles were extraordinary—more than a hundred meters, if the cavern ceiling gave any measure, yet they contracted and extended as freely as a muscle flexing at a wrist. Raw strength could not sustain such lengths. Roland suspected the magic stored in those blob-like bodies worked the way it worked in the enormous demonic beasts—overriding the ordinary limits of scale and weight, making the impossible merely inconvenient.

After a few dozen steps and two dormant magic cores, Pasha stopped before a cube that caught the light like faceted gemstone.

“That’s a God’s Stone of Retaliation.” Nightingale’s voice reached him from somewhere near his ear. “I can’t get too close.”

Roland nodded almost imperceptibly and spoke to Pasha. “Is the relic inside?”

“Yes. The God’s Stone box limits its summoning range—without that containment, the residents of your city might be affected without knowing it.” Several tentacles settled onto the surface of the box without opening it. “Before you approach, there are things I must tell you. I’d prefer there are no accidents.”

Wendy took half a step forward, positioning herself at Roland’s side. “Is it dangerous?”

“Don’t be alarmed,” Celine said. “As long as you don’t encounter it alone, you’ll be fine.”

“What does ‘alone’ mean, exactly?” Roland asked.

Pasha’s expression, insofar as Roland could read anything in that form, became more careful. “When you open yourself to the relic, you can witness remarkable things—sights that either a witch or a common person may be drawn into. But understand this: what you see in the paintings is not pure illusion. It differs from the phantom instrument. Whatever happens inside the Divine Land can reach out and affect the body in reality. That is the first thing. Never enter contact with the relic when alone.”

The sight in the paintings can affect reality. Roland felt the thought land somewhere cold in his chest—then moved past it. Sadako climbing out of the television, he thought, with a flicker of dry humor he did not show.

“Why is it safe with others present?”

Pasha’s explanation was direct. “Because once you’re trapped in the Divine Land, your body will show it—glazed eyes, rigid posture, involuntary speech. Those around you can drag you out of the relic’s range. In the historical records, people have been summoned alone and never had their souls return. Two or three people taking turns, watching one another, reduces the risk to manageable levels.”

Roland glanced around the cavern. Five, at minimum, were present. “With this many people here, the risk is low?”

Celine confirmed it with a slight movement. “If this weren’t so, we would not have allowed you near it.”

Alethea spoke then, and the cold edge in her voice was unmistakable. “There is one more thing. The large paintings in the relic display demon civilizations—and the things you see there will try to harm you. We can pull you out of the summoning, but we cannot shield you from what you encounter inside. If you are too frightened and lose control—” a pause, and something that might have been a sneer in the inflection— “don’t say we didn’t warn you.”

Roland looked at her for a moment. “Is that all?”

Alethea seemed to pull back slightly, caught off guard by the flatness of his reaction.

“Then open it.”

He had not come unprepared. As a person who had grown up watching monster films, alien invasions, every variety of horror the modern world’s imagination could generate—Alethea’s description was, in a sense, a spoiler. What she had described was threatening but not shapeless; it had been named, and named things were never as terrifying as unnamed ones. As long as it could not cause real harm, he was not going to refuse the chance to understand what humanity was actually facing.

Pasha retracted her tentacles and opened the box.

A spindle-shaped crystal floated upward, its color the particular deep red of old blood or a winter moon. It rose without being touched—the way the magic cores rose—and hung in the air about a meter above the floor, turning slowly, as though considering.

“It cannot travel beyond the God’s Stone’s range. You need only get close, and relax. The Divine Land will open to you.”

“Your Majesty…” Wendy’s hand found his wrist.

“Don’t worry.” He laid his free hand briefly over hers. “You’re here. I know what I’m going to face.”

More than Pasha’s account, he had Isabella’s memories, and the impressions gathered from his explorations in the Dream World—both of which confirmed that something like a Divine Land existed and could be entered. The phenomenon was real. He sat down cross-legged beside the crystal and closed his eyes.

Pasha extended several tentacles to touch those of her companions. Their consciousness folded together, thoughts moving between them without the friction of words.

Alethea arrived first—bright and furious, like a struck match. The arrogance of the man. I want to see him tremble. Until he does, he will never truly understand what waits for them. When he comes back soaked in his own fear, let him explain that.

Celine’s reply had the texture of cold water. And what exactly does that accomplish? Every king we have encountered has prized dignity above nearly everything. Humiliate him and we lose his cooperation. Lose his cooperation and we lose the snow mountain expedition, the Chosen One search, the entire plan. If he breaks under it, we lose not just Roland—we lose the world’s hope.

He said he wasn’t afraid of anything. Can you stop him?

Celine thought for a moment. It was a mistake to bring him here this early. I said so before. We should have waited until there was more trust between us.

Pasha moved through both of them with quiet certainty. And if we had hidden it, or prevented him from approaching—what then? Would you trust an ally who kept the key to humanity’s survival locked behind a closed door? No explanation would cover that. It would read as betrayal regardless of the reason. He needs to experience this himself. Only experience produces genuine understanding.

But—

And there’s no need for excessive worry either. The demon and the Giant Eye don’t appear every time. And if something does go wrong—if he loses his composure—we can promise silence. We won’t let the others know. A pause. He’ll understand.

Alethea’s amusement surfaced again, cool and acquisitive. What about the two witches who came with him? Will they keep quiet?

That, Pasha replied, is not our concern.

When Roland opened his eyes, he was standing in a palace without walls.

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