CH991 · Rewrite
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Chapter 991: Burdened by Destiny

After bidding farewell to His Majesty, Zooey led the God’s Punishment Witches back to the Third Border City.

Once she had seen to the captured Senior Demon, Alethea guided her down to a secret chamber deep underground, where Pasha and Celine were already waiting. The demon was hardly the thing on their minds.

“What do you think?” Alethea shut the heavy stone gates and dropped in front of Zooey, her tentacles coiling with uncharacteristic anxiety. “Can we win?”

“Didn’t we already win?” Zooey said.

Alethea leveled a tentacle at her forehead. “Don’t tease me. You know exactly what I’m asking.”

Being the only Extraordinary of Taquila, Zooey had always stood closer to the Senior Witches than anyone else. After the collapse of the Union, the ancient witches had rebuilt themselves around the principle that every witch mattered equally — but the old hierarchies had not entirely dissolved.

“Since she’s so calm about it, I imagine it’s good news.” Pasha smiled.

“In fact… I’m not sure.” Zooey let the ease drop from her voice. “The demons today are considerably different from the enemies we faced four hundred years ago — not only in how they use magic, but in the varieties of species they field.” She walked them through the battle in full. “Lady Alice’s idea was correct in principle. But if we had followed her plan, mankind would inevitably have lost.”

What the fighting had confirmed: God’s Punishment Witches were indeed the weapon that could restrain a Senior Demon. Unfortunately, that weapon alone was not enough to hold the battlefield — powerful armor did not mean they would be spared injury. Placed before the new war machines, they became a formidable and nearly impenetrable force. In open war, the plan of the Queen of Starfall City would lose all its meaning.

Pasha’s posture shifted — some invisible weight lifting. “So we didn’t choose the wrong leader. Lady Natalia’s decision was correct. That is really great news.”

“Yes,” Celine whispered. “Really great news.” Her voice came out faint, choked. For someone who had lived over four hundred years, it was an extraordinary thing to say aloud.

Zooey felt it too.

The majority of the Union’s leaders had followed Alice. Pasha, Celine, and the others had stood by the Queen of Sunchaser out of different convictions — and been torn apart for it, undone by an assault that obliterated the foundation of the Union entirely.

Zooey would remember until the end of her days: a gravely wounded comrade of the Blessed Army dying in her arms, voice cracked with fury — You were the ones who ruined it all.

That weight had never left them.

Death she could face. What she could not bear was to be misunderstood and abandoned by her companions while still searching for a glimmer of hope in the dark. If they had failed, they would have destroyed the only remaining path for witches to survive. That kind of sin could not be atoned for. Not even by dying.

It was with that certainty — harder than stone — that they had endured in their unconscious shells through all the centuries.

Now that Alice’s plan had been proven wrong, the liberation was almost physical. Even if the final outcome were still total destruction, the fate of the survivors would not hang entirely on what they had done. The guilt that had outlasted four hundred years could begin to loosen its grip.

“Even so,” Alethea said, rubbing at the place where her nose had long since ceased to exist, “Lady Natalia was only on par with Alice. We haven’t won the final victory yet. It’s too early to celebrate—”

“Don’t worry. You’ve become like this — if you cry, no one can tell.”

Pasha!

Zooey shook her head and smiled. “I haven’t finished speaking. I can’t say for certain who will win the Battle of Divine Will. But I’ve seen hope.”

The three Senior Witches went quiet.

In four hundred years of searching the dark, hope was the most precious and most dangerous thing. No one knew whether the Chosen One truly existed, but the search had to continue regardless. That aimless uncertainty was always there, always pressing — and the longer it lasted, the more unbearable it became. In the early years, people had often speculated about the Chosen One’s abilities, her age, what she might look like. But when the Black Money network began its work, no one dared speak of it anymore.

They feared assembling an image in their minds — feared finding someone who fit and discovering it was not her, that all the waiting had purchased nothing.

Because of this, hope had become a kind of luxury.

They could say the word easily now.

A long silence settled over the chamber.

Pasha broke it. “So — can we complete the task Lady Natalia entrusted to us?”

Entrusted?” Alethea’s voice rose. “Wait — we haven’t even confirmed the Chosen One yet!”

“I have no objection.” Zooey shrugged. “The ancient books of the underground civilization never specified that the key holder must be male or female. Whether they even had a concept of gender is still unknown.”

Natalia’s will had been clear: if the Chosen One was found, everyone was to treat her as chief, destroy the demons, and rebuild Taquila. The Five-Colored Stone had reflected a Chosen One who was different from anything they had imagined — unable to activate the Instrument of Divine Retribution — yet entirely consistent in dealing with the demon.

“I… feel there’s nothing wrong with it.” Celine was the last to speak. “The ancient books also never said there could be only one candidate. After we have found a newly selected witch, we can still change.”

“Since you’ve all agreed — well, then.” Alethea sighed.

“Whether or not a new candidate appears, I think changing would be unnecessary.” Zooey looked at Pasha. “What you feared has already begun.”

“Did the witches exclude you in battle?”

“It wasn’t so obvious.” She told them about Camilla — about the moment the Sleeping Spell’s chief butler had agreed to connect the demon’s heart only after learning who the interrogator would be. “That shows she cared about the safety of the witches. It just didn’t include immortal monsters like me.”

The air thickened. Pasha had raised this possibility a hundred years ago. Though they thought of themselves as witches, the new generation didn’t necessarily see them that way. In appearance, in nature, in ability — they resembled neither witches nor humans. Roland Wimbledon, who had accepted them without hesitation, felt more like an anomaly than a rule.

As the history of the Union faded from living memory, the newly Awakened might cease to recognize them as kin at all. In an extreme scenario — across centuries or millennia — witches might even use them as subjects, probing the mysteries of magic and the techniques of the underground civilization. A pessimistic thought. But four hundred years was long enough to make pessimism realistic.

Pasha exhaled slowly. “I see. But I don’t regret it.”

No one answered. It was their choice too.

“If we can accomplish what the Three Chiefs wished for,” she said, “our mission will be complete.” She paused. “What happens after that is beyond what we can control. But at least for now, we can plan a way out for ourselves.”

“Hide in the mountains? Disappear? Find a place to bury ourselves?” Alethea’s tone was sharp.

“Of course not.” Pasha moved her main tentacles. “We can make ourselves indispensable.”

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