CH811 · Rewrite
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Chapter 811: Battle in the Mist

“You mean these things can crack the mountain and the earth?”

Elena’s eyes went wide. She rounded on Agatha with something close to fury. “What if they had exploded inside Fran’s stomach? Who in their right mind—”

Fran’s vast body gave an involuntary shudder.

“That’s the lab sample that ignites easily,” Agatha said, rummaging through the box. She produced a small bag of copper pipe and held it up. “Not these. These won’t fire on ordinary impact or heat. The only trigger is inserting these pipes into the explosive containers.”

The God’s Punishment Witches crowded closer, drawn by curiosity. They had heard Phyllis describe the artillery exercise long ago — that spectacle of fire and thunder — and had watched the First Army repel demonic incursions more than once since settling in the Western Region. Gunpowder was not entirely foreign to them. But they had never been this close to it.

“Is it really safe to burn? Something that makes such a noise when it goes off must be terribly volatile.”

“It looks exactly like a brick…”

“Does it explode the moment you insert the copper pipe?”

“Who would dare try?”

The questions troubled Agatha too. Her knowledge of His Majesty’s firearms extended to general principles — no further. She knew no more than her Taquila sisters about the practical use of this weapon.

“The one with the red mark is the detonator that must be lit,” Lightning said, leaning in with the air of an expert. “The blue-marked one uses a pull-cord trigger. There’s also a yellow type activated by electric current, but this bag only has red and blue.”

Agatha stared at her. “How do you know that?”

The girl touched her nose. “Because I’m an explorer. I was present at practically every new weapon test the First Army ever ran.”

“So—” Elena pressed, working the problem aloud. “Do we plant the explosives at the cave mouth beforehand and blow our way out? Or cast them as we retreat and carry Fran along? If the explosion holds the enemies back long enough, ten God’s Punishment Witches can manage her.”

“Don’t worry about me. Just leave—”

“Shut up!” Elena’s voice was flat and final. “We don’t abandon companions easily. Have you forgotten what Lady Eleanor told us?”

“Every witch is of equal importance.” The others joined in, a quiet chorus.

“I’m afraid neither plan will work,” Lightning muttered. She looked at the shovels and spades scattered across the ground. “One bag of these in an enclosed space this size would tear us all to pieces. But in a larger cave the blast dissipates too quickly — effective killing range is barely ten paces. These aren’t weapons. They’re mining tools. The fire and pressure won’t stop a swarm commanded by whatever’s on that dome.”

Silence.

They all understood. An ordinary demonic beast might break before the noise and heat. But a swarm marshalled by something intelligent, something that had already summoned hundreds of hybrid creatures from every crevice of this mountain — that was another matter.

“Maybe there is one more option.” Nightingale’s voice cut through the quiet. “Kill the commander.”

“You mean the thing on the dome?” Elena’s brow furrowed. “We can’t fly.”

“Even if you could, it’s too dangerous.” Agatha spoke before Lightning could. “This isn’t a defensive engagement where you can call for support. Hybrid beasts fly too. Lightning’s speed drops sharply when she’s carrying weight, and the moment the enemy spots her they’ll swarm. She’d never close the distance.”

“I’m not proposing Lightning.” Nightingale spoke each word with care. “I’m going myself. I’ll put a bag of this explosive directly into the monster — into whatever serves it for a mouth, if it has one.”

“You?” Agatha’s voice cracked. “You know perfectly well that your Mist is no protection against Magic Eyes. Wherever you can see it, it can see you.”

“Seeing me and stopping me are two different things. Its underlings can’t locate me in the Mist — I’m certain I can get through them, even if it orders them to intercept.” She paused. “And the Mist does a great deal more than conceal.”

“But—”

A sound swallowed her next words.

It came from deep inside the rock formation: a vast, layered grinding, as though ten thousand insects were consuming stone simultaneously — gravel cracking, being crushed, powdered. The witches knew it instantly.

“They’ve sent a devouring worm.” Elena’s face set like iron. “The enemy is moving. Prepare yourselves.”

A worm carrier was little threat on its own. But once it broke through and revealed their position, the demonic swarm would pour through without end.

Nightingale was already moving. She packed four bags of explosive into her satchel and bound it tight across her back. “Don’t worry,” she said. “No one is better suited to this. Back when the Witch Cooperation Association still operated in the old king’s city, I was known across the central region.” She lifted her chin. A ghost of a smile. “They called me Shadow Killer.”

“Wait—”

“I’ll finish that deformed thing before the worm breaks through.”

Before Agatha could form another word, Nightingale was gone.

The last thing Agatha saw was a thumbs-up.


In the world of black and white, direction meant nothing.

Here, everywhere was flat if she chose it. The cave dome and the cave floor were interchangeable; the underground river hung like a ribbon pressed against a vertical wall; the subterranean lake spread above her like a great dark window.

She felt, in this world, like its maker.

She passed straight through the collapsed stone, stepped onto the sheer cliff face as though it were level ground, and drove upward toward the dome.

Then the monster came into view — and it had her in view as well.

Nightingale did not look away.

She fixed her eyes on its stars of scarlet and accelerated. In the Mist, the creature’s Magic Cyclone blazed like a bloody moon, vast and outshining every other light point in the dark. No ordinary hybrid demonic beast burned this bright.

Its magic power outperforms even Anna’s.

For a moment — a single, strange moment — she felt the distance between them collapse. Not physically. Something else. A sensation as of two minds brushing against each other, formless and impossible to name. What came through was unmistakable: hostility, naked and undisguised, flowing in both directions.

She grinned.

The monster raised its tentacles.

With one low, reverberant roar, the demonic beasts in the cave turned and came for her.

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