The sealing patterns seemed to come alive, desperately resisting her touch.
Every single pattern seared her fingertips, a pain more intense than the wounds on her body, nearly shattering her consciousness completely.
But Celeste did not let go.
The man saw through her intentions, and after sensing the terrifying power of that seal, he couldn’t help but sneer.
“You want to break the seal? With your strength? Hmph, wishful thinking.”
‘Wishful thinking?’
The seal was indeed fearsome, but that didn’t mean it could stop Celeste.
The Eros Energy within her surged violently.
Moments later, under the man’s stunned gaze, the seal shattered piece by piece, and the lid of the wooden box flew open.
A blinding silver-white light burst from the box, illuminating the entire dark alley.
The light was searingly hot, forcing even the torrential rain back.
Magic power swept through the surroundings like a storm.
The man instinctively raised his arm to shield his eyes and staggered back a step.
Soon, the light gradually faded.
Celeste slowly rose to her feet.
In her hand, she held a silver-white wand.
The wand was about half her height, slender and elegant, covered in intricate patterns.
At the tip was embedded a black crystal the size of a fist.
Inside the crystal, countless starlights seemed to drift slowly, as deep and vast as a miniature night sky.
It trembled gently in Celeste’s hand.
As she gazed down at it, she sensed an inexplicable surge of power deep within her.
It wasn’t power transmitted from the wand, but rather a deeper resonance.
The Eros Energy in her body trembled in response, eventually merging with this force.
Her wounds began to heal.
The gruesome cuts carved by the rain closed at a visible rate.
Her pale skin regained color, and her ragged breathing steadied into calm, powerful breaths.
The wand vibrated softly, and the heartbeat-like resonance dispersed the rain falling from the sky.
In that instant, Celeste understood.
This wand was acknowledging its master.
It had chosen her.
The man stood not far away, watching the scene with confusion, his voice tinged with surprise.
“What is that? A wand?”
Celeste didn’t answer.
She simply raised her head and looked at him.
Her blood-red eyes now seemed to blaze with silver-white flames.
Her Silver Grade magic power became unfathomable.
“Witch Hunter?”
With a cold snort, Celeste lifted the wand slightly, aiming its tip at the man.
“Light!”
As if uttering a magic incantation, the moment she spoke the word, silver-white light exploded from the wand’s tip, forming a pillar of light that shot into the sky and hurtled toward the man!
The man’s pupils contracted sharply.
He instinctively swung his sword to meet it.
The sword light and the light pillar collided, producing a deafening roar!
The dust cleared.
The man stood still, a trickle of blood seeping from the corner of his mouth.
He was injured.
“Interesting…”
He said hoarsely, wiping the blood from his lips, his demeanor turning wild and excited.
“A piece of trash lying in a pool of blood a moment ago can wound me in an instant… That wand of yours is quite the treasure!”
His gaze at the wand turned fiercely greedy.
The moment his words fell, his figure lunged at Celeste at a speed nearly impossible to track, sword light raining down like a storm.
But Celeste merely raised the wand.
Silver-white light formed a barrier, blocking every sword strike!
Then, with a wave of the wand, countless silver-white swords materialized out of thin air, raining down on the man!
His face changed dramatically.
He dodged and parried with all his might, but several swords still pierced his body.
Blood gushed from the wounds.
He staggered backward, crashing heavily into the wall!
He looked up at Celeste.
Finally, fear appeared in his eyes.
“Th-this wand, what exactly…”
Celeste sneered. She raised the wand, its tip aimed at his chest.
“You’ve killed many witches, haven’t you?”
The man opened his mouth to say something, but in the next second, silver-white light exploded and pierced through his chest.
His body froze in place.
In his eyes, fear and unwillingness intertwined, then slowly faded, extinguished.
He collapsed to the ground.
Until the moment of death, he still couldn’t believe he had been defeated by Celeste.
The alley fell silent again.
Celeste stood still, holding the silver-white wand, unmoving for a long time.
She had avenged those witches, at least.
And she could do it all because of this wand.
She could feel the magic power within the wand—a very special magic, as if created specifically for witches, perfectly suited to her.
Just holding the wand amplified her strength, allowing her to step into Gold Rank.
And not just an ordinary Gold Rank; at least, a Gold Rank like the Witch Hunter was no match for her.
But…
She couldn’t report back to the Witch Council now.
The Witch Council’s mission was for her to transport the wooden box, to help them steal this wand.
But now the wand had acknowledged her as its master, and there was no way she could hand it over to the Council.
After a brief moment of thought, she decided to abort the mission, defect from the Witch Council, flee back to her residence, and resume her role as the daughter of Earl Harris.
She couldn’t return to the Witch Council anyway. Leaving aside the fact that the wand’s magic had fused with her Eros Energy, she couldn’t trust the witches within the Council itself.
She knew very well how tempting this wand was.
Those witches would absolutely turn on each other for it, and she would only become a sacrifice in their struggle.
So defecting was the right choice.
For one, as the daughter of a Count, it would be hard for the Witch Council to reach her.
And even if they did, with the wand, she wasn’t someone an ordinary witch could handle.
With that thought, she took out the Witch Council’s communication crystal and the crystals used to contact other witches, and crushed them with force.
Then, transforming herself, she once again became Celestia, the daughter of Earl Harris, and returned to their residence in the Imperial Capital.
Not long after she left the alley, two witches with unstable auras appeared there.
They stared at the Witch Hunter’s corpse, shock flickering in their eyes.
“He… he was killed by a witch?!” “Who? Nightingale?”
“I knew she wasn’t simple… But where is she?”
“…Did she defect with the Empress Wand?”
As they spoke, the alley sank into an eerie silence.
—
The chaos in the Imperial Capital lasted two days, finally subsiding on the morning of the third day.
Sunlight once again spilled onto the streets of the Imperial Capital, exposing every remnant wall and ruined building.
The Imperial soldiers began clearing the rubble and collecting the corpses.
The air was thick with the smell of blood.
Inside Tia’s residence, Earl Harris had just returned.
His battle armor was almost soaked through with blood, dark red scabs layered over the silver plates, some spots still dripping.
Commander Pake wasn’t much better; he coughed a couple of times, clearly badly injured.
Tia quickly hurried over.
“Father!”
Earl Harris shook his head and pushed her back inside.
“It’s fine. We’ll talk inside.”
News spread fast in the Imperial Capital.
That afternoon, notices were posted throughout the city: Marquis Chalisi, along with a group of nobles, had staged a rebellion.
The rebellion had been suppressed, and the main offenders would be beheaded at the Eastern Execution Ground the following day at noon.
Tia didn’t want to go, but Earl Harris went, and he took her with him.
The execution ground was packed.
The citizens of the Imperial Capital crowded behind the cordon, craning their necks to watch, their faces filled with the excitement and curiosity of onlookers.
They whispered to each other, exchanging hearsay, pointing and gossiping.
Tia stood among the crowd, watching the execution platform.
On it knelt more than a dozen people in prison uniforms, their hair disheveled, heavy shackles around their necks.
The one at the front was probably Marquis Chalisi.
He was a middle-aged man, his back straight, his gaze fearless.
At noon, the executioner, acting on orders, pushed them onto the beheading platform.
At that moment, they shouted with all their might:
“The Emperor is no longer the Emperor!”
“He’s a demon! A devil!”
“He will destroy not just the Empire, but all of humanity!”
“We must unite! Only then can we overthrow his rule!”
The crowd stirred.
Many exchanged glances, murmuring about his words.
The executioner panicked and quickly dropped the blade.
A flash of steel.
Blood spurted out, staining the execution platform red.
A stifled gasp rippled through the crowd, then quickly subsided.
Some turned and left, others continued pointing and whispering, debating what those words meant.
Tia stood still, her brow furrowing slightly.
She couldn’t understand what the Marquis had just said, nor why Earl Harris had brought her here.
But as she looked around, she caught sight of several figures.
They were dressed in ordinary civilian clothes, blending into the crowd inconspicuously.
But Tia recognized them—they were the Witch Councilors who had previously asked her to decipher the Imperial Vault map.
They moved through the crowd, their eyes scanning everywhere, as if searching for someone.
Tia’s heart sank.
Fortunately, as the daughter of a Count, she didn’t attract their attention.
Back at the residence, Tia found her father already packing.
“We’re leaving.”
Earl Harris didn’t look up, just continued organizing the documents on the table.
“We depart this afternoon.”
Tia froze.
“So soon?”
Earl Harris’s hand paused slightly.
“It’s not safe here. We’re going back to Hela City.”
Tia’s heart filled with a terrible suspicion.
Could it be… that when he and Commander Pake left the residence before, they weren’t going to protect the King, but to attack the Palace?!
She silently watched Earl Harris, feeling that his silhouette carried an indescribable urgency.
—
Three days had passed since returning to Hela City.
Life seemed to have returned to its usual calm.
Tia spent her days reading in the garden, taking walks, occasionally chatting with Margaret.
The days were leisurely and pleasant.
But in her heart, there was always a faint unease.
The Empire’s Great Princess, Mephia, had not returned to Hela City.
Moreover, her father, Earl Harris, was too quiet.
Ever since they returned to the territory, he had stayed in his study, rarely coming out, rarely speaking.
Sometimes, when Tia brought him tea, she would see him standing by the window, staring into the distance, his eyes holding a depth she couldn’t understand.
She asked Margaret.
Margaret just shook her head and said softly, “The Lord might have something on his mind.”
What’s more, whether it was her imagination or not, Tia felt that Hela City had been more oppressive than usual these days.
Beneath the surface, hidden from her sight, something seemed to be stirring.
—
The next afternoon, Tia left the manor and was about to go find Earl Harris.
A rush of hoofbeats came from the street, breaking the afternoon stillness.
She followed the sound.
A group of about a dozen horsemen was galloping down Central Avenue in Hela City.
They were all clad in silver armor and dark blue cloaks embroidered with the Empire’s golden crest.
They raced forward, their hooves pounding the stone road, kicking up clouds of dust.
They stopped in front of the Lord’s Manor, where Earl Harris conducted his business.
The leader was a burly middle-aged man with a thick beard and eyes as sharp as a hawk’s.
He dismounted and waved his hand behind him.
At that signal, the soldiers behind him dismounted and quickly spread out, surrounding the Lord’s Manor completely.
Earl Harris walked out onto the balcony of the second floor, silently watching them.
Gradually, people who didn’t know what was happening gathered around.
The middle-aged man wasn’t in a hurry. He waited until the area was packed, then glanced up at Earl Harris.
Finally, he unfurled a roll of parchment and announced in a loud voice:
“Verified by the Imperial Grand General: Earl Harris, six days ago, colluded in secret with Marquis Chalisi to attack the Imperial Palace, attempting to overthrow the Empire’s rule. I am hereby ordered to arrest Earl Harris and his family and escort them back to the Imperial Capital for trial!”
He folded the parchment, his gaze sharp as a blade.
“Resistance means death!”
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