"And me." Lightning came rushing over.
"I want it too," Nana Wa exclaimed.
"Goo!" Maxie followed.
Roland stood firm, letting each Witch Alliance member embrace him in turn. Tilly couldn't help but chuckle, "You really have a good rapport with them." "Do you need your brother's embrace too?" "No, thank you," she replied with a smile, shaking her head. "I still remember vividly how you lifted me up and then threw me to the ground." Roland shrugged innocently before turning his gaze to the woman in Ash's arms—a young woman with jet-black hair, Anna-sized, and a delicate frame. Her eyes were tightly shut, her long eyebrows arched slightly upward, her fair skin marked by a tear mark at the corner of her eye that stood out strikingly.
At first glance, she doesn't look like a prisoner trapped in a stone tower's basement at all—she looks more like a sleeping beauty.
Yet what captivated Roland more than her physical appearance was her robe. In this age, he had seldom encountered garments adorned with such intricate patterns. The purple hue of Roland's robe was exceptionally rare due to the scarcity of dyes, and when paired with the interwoven white stripes and talismans, it resembled a regal robe straight out of a cinematic fantasy.
This must be an orange piece of equipment.
"Is she still alive?" "Well," the Nightingale replied, "though her Magic Power has been depleted—much like what happened to Anna when she came of age. But unlike Anna, her recovery is extremely slow. At this rate, it might take three or four days to restore her to normal levels." "Then let's call her the Sleeper for now," Roland nodded. "I'll clear a room on the third floor of the castle for her to recover. The others may return to the hall first," he paused. "I'd like to hear your stories from this journey."
After hearing Tilly and Nightingale's story, Roland couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine.
Though Sylvie had the full map, pursuing a colossal evil beast unseen before deep underground was still perilous. Had it been my turn, I would have hesitated. Yet Tilly proved remarkably decisive—quickly selecting the right candidate and personally leading the team. Clearly, her leadership among the Witches stemmed not merely from her royal status.
"Did you think this ground-dwelling worm was connected to the Devil?" "I don't know, but it's not impossible," Tilly mused. "The Witch of the Guild once encountered Devils riding hybrid demonic beasts in the Wildlands. These creatures had their wings clipped and obeyed the Devil's commands, resembling tamed livestock. Behind the Snow Mountains, you also saw flying beasts—completely different from the Devil's form, perhaps another kind of demonic creature." "So we can infer that Devils and demonic beasts share a subordinate relationship, like humans and hunting dogs. They could command these monsters through some means to complete challenging tasks?" "It does feel like that," Roland nodded, though a lingering confusion lingered in his mind. While demonic beasts only attack human settlements during the Dark Moon, this doesn't mean they can only survive there—the moss and weeds on their armor shells prove these creatures can endure for decades. If Devils couldn't swiftly occupy the Wildlands and drive humans from the continent due to the Red Mist, they could certainly keep sending demonic beasts to harass the Four Kingdoms instead of waiting for winter to act.
Another key point is... He could never forget the intelligence displayed by the wolf-lion hybrid during the first Year of the Evil Demon. Unlike reflexive 'smart' creatures, this hybrid could learn, analyze, and strategically choose its path and targets—a level of sophistication most species could never achieve. If even long-lived hybrid demons possessed such intelligence, they would be impossible to tame by any other race.
"But I believe the enemies Miss Nightingale encountered outside the stone tower are far more formidable than the underground demons," Tilly sighed. "They can conceal their presence and move stealthily during daylight, making them nearly impossible to defend against. Unfortunately, we know so little about these creatures that we have no idea how to counter such terrifying adversaries." "I wouldn't have believed these demons existed at all if Miss Nightingale hadn't seen them with her own eyes," Roland shrugged. "But they've never been reported in the West... Otherwise, the Long Song Fortress would have long been reduced to ruins by the winter's arrival." "Yet the longer the Demon Moon lasts, the stronger the demons grow—that's the conclusion in history books. With snowfall beginning this autumn, the enemy we face could be exceptionally powerful." The pronoun "we" warmed Roland's heart. Whether or not she considered herself her brother, as allies she had already regarded the town and herself as one—of course, thanks to the witches.
"That would leave the Nightingale to guard the defenses." "No, let Sylvie keep watch this winter," Tilly insisted. "The walls are split into eastern and western sections. Even a full circle would take thirty minutes. Miss Nightingale's workload would be overwhelming. If Sylvie stays in the castle, she can monitor the entire perimeter and alert the other witches immediately when she spots any evil creatures." "That's a good idea," Roland nodded.
"That Witch..." The scholar paused. "I stand by my original assessment—she could be our foe until verified." "I know," he said, exhaling. "I'll temporarily bind her with the God's Punishment Lock. Let's hope this doesn't cause her to misunderstand us."
Roland entered the sleeping woman's bedroom, where Anna was the only one left to tend to her.
"How's it going?" Anna shook her head. "Still no response." "True." Roland approached the bedside. The woman lay motionless under the covers, her eyes still shut, though the frown between her brows had softened considerably. Both Nana and Lily had used their abilities on her. Now, all that remained was to wait in silence.
"It is truly inconceivable that after being frozen for such a long time, no trace remains on the body," he remarked.
"Like I'm unafraid of flames," Anna chuckled, "her power must be tied to this." "You cut open the ice coffin," Roland patted her head. "Impressive, Anna." "Not entirely my doing," she said earnestly. "This Witch's mastery is extraordinary. She first froze her entire circulatory system with freezing ice, then sealed it inside with near-room-temperature ice crystals to prevent melting. Her control of power must be at an extraordinary level." Near-room-temperature ice... The phrase sounded implausible, but Roland understood. Summoning-type witches 'abilities were concrete manifestations of Magic Power, just like Blackfire's ability to transform forms and temperatures at will.
Auntie paused before continuing, "The moment I pierced the outer ice crystal, the entire ice coffin shattered into pieces—just like the flaw she'd deliberately left behind. So I think she foresaw this day." "You mean..." "She'll definitely wake up."