The people who arrived were all witches. Tasa was truthful—Ash could sense the Magic Power coursing through their bodies and roughly gauge its intensity. The leader before her was especially striking: her power was like a razor-sharp blade, and even the mere act of focusing on it caused a faint stinging sensation.
"My name is Ash. It's a pleasure to meet you, sisters of the Guild." She set aside her massive sword and moved forward to embrace each of the four Witches... Wait, she thought, there should be five. Ash raised her gaze to the swirling black dot in the sky. "Doesn't she descend?" "She guides us," the leader chuckled. "I'm Nightingale," she said, pointing to the other three Witches—Scroll, Leaf, and Echo. Finally, she gestured toward the sky. "That little girl is Lightning." Ash stared at Scroll, stunned by the faint Magic Power radiating from her. The mist-like aura enveloping her body left her astonished. "Transcendent?" Nightingale's expression showed surprise. "Can you see Magic Power?" "Not see, but feel it," Ash explained. "Transcendents perceive the form and flow of Magic Power because their bodies are transformed by it. I believe this sister shares my perception." Scroll nodded with a smile. "Indeed, it has helped me find companions in the vast sea of humanity." "Are Transcendents rare?" Nightingale asked.
The other party was first fixated on quantity rather than 'what the Extraordinary is.' Ash mused, 'Could the Co-Workers have heard of the Extraordinary Witch?' This was a Church-strictly guarded secret, as the Extraordinary Witch's powers directly affected herself, exempt from the Stone of God's punishment. Any exposed Extraordinary was the Church's foremost enemy.
"Only one in thousands of witches becomes a transcendent being," she mused, her face still glowing with divine radiance. "Among my compatriots and the scholars I've met, only three have attained this status." Ash paused. "By the way, the leader of the Guild of the Holy Mountain seems to be named Halkara. Is she well?" "She's gone," Nightingale shook her head. "She died on the pilgrimage to the Holy Mountain." "...What a sad news," Ash murmured, though she noticed the speaker's lack of sorrow when speaking of it. "Who's your new leader now?" "We'll return to Border Town first and talk later," she smiled. "You'll meet him soon."...
As the group entered the town, Ash noticed something amiss. The Witch of the Mutual Aid Society was walking openly on the streets, torches in hand. Even after dark, the town wasn't completely silent—many residents' paper windows emitted faint glimmers of light, and the sound of children's recitations could be heard clearly.
Candles, though not particularly expensive, were seldom used by ordinary people due to their limited savings. The sight of so many households lighting candles at night in the small town was astonishing. Coupled with the rhythmic sound of reading aloud, could it be that they were teaching their children to recognize characters?
Since the other party didn't mention it, she didn't bother asking. After all, this wasn't her permanent home, and her priority was to get everyone out as quickly as possible.
As they walked through the labyrinthine streets, the group drew nearer to the castle grounds. The ash-covered walls loomed dark against the night sky, with sentinels standing watch. 'Where are we headed?' she blurted out.
"Border Town Castle, we're almost there," the Nightingale replied.
"Wait," she slowed her pace, "that must be Lord's residence." "Yes, it's also the witches 'home." "Did you make an agreement with Lord?" Ash frowned. Even if the Guild of the Holy Cross held significant local influence, it could hardly stand against Lord and the Church, who wielded God's Stone of Punishment. Thus, cooperation became the only viable path—part of the survival strategies some witches had developed. Yet, most Lords refused to negotiate fairly with the disadvantaged witches, instead engaging in endless exploitation and demands. This approach was soon rendered futile.
"Let's just say so," the Nightingale's tone carried little trace of resentment, only evident delight. "At least we've signed contracts with Your Highness." Ashes, however, couldn't share their joy. Contracts—those written words—had no binding force. When Lord grew weary of obligations or wished to terminate the equal partnership, he could simply crumple them into a ball and toss them into the fireplace. No one would defend the Witch's cause; their status was like a solitary boat adrift in the sea, perpetually at risk of capsizing.
Fortunately, she had come herself, she thought, to take them away from here and to the other side of the sea. There, Witch had built her own home, far from the Church and the threats of the secular world.
As they entered the castle, the guards were clearly used to the witch's presence and even exchanged greetings.
The Lordcastle here was far more cramped and dim than the palace in the capital. Only a few solitary torches hung on the corridor walls, their flickering light barely illuminating the stone floor, making the passage feel suffocating. It wasn't until entering the reception hall that the dimness suddenly brightened.
In the hall, Ash noticed more Witches waiting for her. When she appeared, they applauded in welcome. As Nightingale took two steps forward to introduce herself, a Witch suddenly rushed over.
"Wendy!" someone shouted.
Ash noticed the other party's actions but took no countermeasures—she could sense their surprise and joy, yet not a trace of hostility. Soon, a warm body embraced her.
"You actually survived," the voice was filled with excitement, "Thank you for saving me back then." Ash was stunned. "You are..." "My name is Wendy," she released her hands and looked straight into Ash's eyes, "the little girl from the choir. Do you remember me?"...
In the second-floor bedroom, only ashes and Wendy remained.
She did not expect to meet the monastery companions here.
Calling them companions was somewhat forced. Had it not been for that fateful night, she would never have crossed paths with Wendy. In truth, she had completely overlooked the other unfortunate soul—just like herself—who had been forcibly taken into the room buried beneath the earth. Nor could she have imagined that the latter would ultimately become a Witch.
"After escaping the monastery, I settled in Haifeng County," Wendy said after a long silence. "Later, I learned that a fire had broken out at the monastery that day, and the children inside were all missing." "A fire?" Ash shook his head. "The Church itself started it to cover up this scandal. I killed some of the administrators and the Inquisition Army who tried to stop me, until... the God Punishment Army arrived. The scar on my eye was left by them. If I hadn't fled immediately, I would have died there when the God Punishment Army arrived later." "God Punishment Army..." Wendy repeated, her eyes wide open. "What is that?"