CH793 · Rewrite
☕ Support

Chapter 793: The Ancient Witch’s Discovery

Roland said goodnight to Garcia and crossed back to his own apartment.

Phyllis was waiting in the living room. “Your Majesty — who is that woman?”

“A warrior. Consider her an Awakened with magic power in this Dream World.” He waved a hand. “Don’t mind her attitude. No one here knows I’m a king.”

“But she was also created by you, like everything in this world…” Phyllis was not quite willing to let it rest. Her respect for him had grown substantially since he had granted her request and introduced her to hotpot.

He sat across from her. “That’s not how they experience it. Everyone in this world has their own ideas, their own memories. Their entire lives have nothing to do with me. This world has rules of its own, and I have to follow them the same as anyone else.”

At the mention of this world, Phyllis’s eyes lit with the hunger of someone who had been saving a question for hours. She glanced toward Zero’s bedroom, then leaned forward and lowered her voice.

“Your Majesty, is this the real place where you once lived? Forgive my bluntness — but I don’t believe you were ever truly Prince Roland of Graycastle.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why would you say that?”

“Because Neverwinter looks exactly like this world.” She spoke quickly now, as though the thought had been pressing against its walls. “When I first arrived in your city, I couldn’t understand why you built such wide, flat roads for carriages in a place where space is scarce — but now I understand. You didn’t build them for carriages. You built them for those fast four-wheeled vehicles. Your weapons, your plans for a ten-floor building, the powerful machine that runs on boiling water — everything in Neverwinter seems to trace back here.”

Roland thought for a moment, then answered carefully. “I am indeed Prince Roland. But when I came to Border Town, a different set of memories arrived in my mind — abstract, extraordinary knowledge that I’ve only partially mastered.” He had decided long ago that his time-travel story was something he would share only with his closest witch. He would not share it here.

Phyllis received this without a moment of doubt. “Then those memories must be divine gifts. Taquila witches always believed that the deities did not love humanity — but perhaps we were wrong. You have their grace. As long as you are with us, we will defeat the demons.”

Roland was startled by the certainty in her voice. He had spent considerable effort trying to persuade the Taquila survivors to trust in him — and now here was the first one to express genuine confidence, after nothing more than a walk through a park and two meals.

He mentioned this, tentatively.

Phyllis smiled. “Because of the four-wheeled iron vehicles.”

“The vehicles?”

“In Taquila’s time, supplying the front lines required enormous numbers of horses and carriages. Witches with speed abilities helped, but once the weight they carried exceeded a certain threshold, the magic cost multiplied many times over.” She settled into the explanation with a teacher’s ease. “The Union understood what it meant when we captured the demons’ Siege Beasts — huge things, each operable by a single witch, with a carrying capacity equal to four or five carriages. We knew then that the demons commanded far more efficient use of magic power than we did. Lady Alice’s God’s Punishment Army plan came directly from that understanding.”

“You judge an opponent’s strength by their capacity to transport supplies?” Roland asked, genuinely interested.

Phyllis nodded. “The method of transport — whether by hand or by horse — determines how far a force can project its power. The species that can travel farthest is the strongest.” A pause; she couldn’t quite suppress a smile. “In this Dream World, I saw an iron vehicle carrying more than a hundred people, several times faster than any carriage could manage. That is the measure of this world’s strength. If your weapons are built on the same principles, they will crush the demons.”

Roland was quiet for a moment after she finished. He was thinking of a topic he’d seen argued endlessly in online forums before his transmigration: how could humanity possibly defeat alien invaders?

The answer was that it couldn’t. Human civilization had barely managed to put a handful of astronauts on the nearest celestial body. An alien intelligence capable of crossing hundreds of light years would have consumed, in the act of travel alone, more energy than Earth could sustain. Any civilization that could reach us would be powerful enough to destroy us in passing. The moment we saw them would be the moment we died.

Yet here was a woman from four hundred years ago who had arrived at precisely the same conclusion — through a crowded bus and a pair of steam cylinders.

In the end Phyllis rose, pressed her hand to her chest, and bowed. “Though you have no witch’s power and cannot activate the Instrument of Divine Retribution, I believe you are the Chosen One the deities sent to us.”

Roland didn’t know whether to laugh or refute her. The logic was thin. But he said nothing — with the Taquila witches’ conviction behind him, Neverwinter’s future would be brighter regardless of its cause.

He stood and exhaled. “We don’t have much time. Let’s begin the test.”

They had to move quickly and quietly, to avoid waking Zero.

Phyllis climbed the ladder they set up against the wall, turned her back, and fell.

Nothing changed.

She could not leave the Dream World by falling alone.

Two possibilities remained, then. Either she would be expelled when Roland left. Or she was trapped here permanently.

Roland climbed up and sat on the top rung. Phyllis came to stand beneath him.

“If I can’t leave this Dreamland,” she said quietly, “don’t worry. It’s a good place, and I would not be unhappy here. And if I can never come back after leaving — I won’t forget any of this. I’ll always be thinking of it.”

Roland nodded.

He fell backward.

Darkness.

Discussion

Suggest a change