Chapter 76: A Good Citizen

It was a fear from the deepest part of the bloodline, the most primal instinct—like prey facing a natural predator, an uncontrollable tremor.

Marcus’s pupils shrank to the size of pinpricks, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.

This power had definitely surpassed Gold Rank.

The terrifying pressure forced every cell in his body to scream, urging him to flee.

Only, his legs were completely frozen.

Not only that, but he seemed to recognize something, his voice trembling.

“So, so you… you are…”

Mephia didn’t wait for him to finish.

She raised the golden spear in her hand high, letting countless complex and sacred runes flow across its surface, then walked toward Marcus step by step.

As she approached, Marcus finally struggled free of his fear.

Letting out a mad roar, he fled desperately in the opposite direction.

But at that moment, Mephia swung her spear.

A flash of golden light cut through the darkness, grazing the monster’s impenetrable scales and cleaving his flesh and bones in two.

Marcus’s massive body stood frozen in place.

The crimson fire in his eyes flickered violently twice, then went out.

He split in two and fell to either side, the cut surface as smooth as a mirror without a single drop of blood spilling.

With his death, the Gold Rank magic power dissipated, making Celeste, who was already struggling to breathe, feel even more uncomfortable.

After his death, the hall fell into dead silence, with only the lights still shining.

Mephia stood still, the golden spear in her hand slowly dissipating.

The remnant wings behind her also dimmed and shrank little by little.

Finally, she transformed completely back into a human.

But then she staggered.

The situation was settled.

The familiar Elsa said nothing more, sighed, and quieted down.

Soon, Mephia acted as if nothing had happened, turned, and looked at Celeste.

If she could, at that moment Celeste would have wanted to turn tail and run, but unfortunately, she still had many injuries, and her stamina hadn’t recovered yet.

Trying to escape from Mephia in that state was nothing but a pipe dream.

“It’s over.”

Mephia said softly, then came to Celeste’s side and gently embraced her.

Her fingers lightly brushed the girl’s pale cheek.

While feeling her breathing and heartbeat, she cast healing magic, mending the wounds on the girl’s body.

She… she was healing her?!

Realizing this, Celeste felt a warmth in her heart for some reason.

She didn’t know why Mephia had come here, but if she hadn’t, Celeste would surely have been in trouble—after all, she was no match for Marcus.

Mephia didn’t know what was going through her mind.

She just reached out and gently pressed her hand against the deepest wound on Celeste’s shoulder.

A faint white light emanated from her palm.

A warm current flowed into the wound, and the gruesome tears began to heal at a visible rate.

Celeste’s body stiffened slightly.

“You…”

“Don’t move,” Mephia said softly.

“The wound is too deep. If I don’t treat it in time, you’ll lose too much blood and pass out.”

Celeste bit her lip and said nothing.

She just looked at Mephia, at that face pale as paper from overexertion.

Her heart began to beat irregularly, and her cheeks silently flushed red.

Mephia was taking care of her like this…

Could it be that she actually had feelings for her?

That thought flashed through her mind.

Under Mephia’s puzzled gaze, she quickly slapped her own cheeks, thinking she had lost her mind.

Why would Mephia have feelings for her?

It would make more sense if she had feelings for Tia.

Celeste, as a witch, had always been at odds with Mephia.

The wound healed quickly.

Mephia withdrew her hand, and the faint white light dissipated in the air.

She tried to stand up using the ground for support, but her body wobbled and she almost fell again.

Celeste quickly caught her.

“Are you alright?”

Mephia nodded, then took a few deep breaths.

After a long moment, she finally steadied herself.

Then she lifted her head and looked at Celeste.

In those golden eyes, the weakness and fatigue receded like a tide, replaced by an obscure light that Celeste couldn’t read.

“Thank you,” Celeste said softly.

“Mephia, thank you…”

“Don’t thank me.”

Mephia cut her off, her voice returning to its usual coolness.

“This was something I had to do.”

Celeste was slightly stunned.

“Something you had to do?”

“That’s right. If I didn’t treat you…”

As she spoke, Mephia grabbed Celeste’s wrist.

With a clink, a magic-repressing shackle latched onto her hand.

“…how would I be able to capture you and send you back to the dungeon?”

Celeste’s expression froze at that moment.

After a long while, she came to her senses, the corners of her eyes twitching.

“No… is this really necessary?”

“Very necessary.”

With that flat reply, Mephia dragged Celeste toward the exit of the hall.

As for the Experiment Tower Core hidden in the deepest part of the hall, she had already cleaved it apart when she killed Marcus earlier.

Without the core, the Magic Experiment Tower was useless.

Stumbling along behind Mephia, Celeste hurriedly pleaded.

“Mephia, I know you’re an Inquisitor, and your duty is to maintain social order, but I came here to rid the people of a scourge too!”

She pointed at Marcus’s corpse nearby and the dense, bizarre magical runes inside the experiment tower.

“Look! There are villains inside the Empire!”

“The Witch Council isn’t anything good either.”

“I’m a good citizen! A good citizen!”

“I haven’t forgotten how we met.”

As she spoke, Mephia tightened her grip on Celeste’s wrist, conveying a sense of inescapability.

Celeste let out a whimper and could only continue begging.

But after that, Mephia didn’t reply to her at all.

This made Celeste suspect that Mephia catching her was less about investigating the Witch Council and more about avenging that honey trap.

And so, Mephia led Celeste all the way out of the hall.

However, they didn’t notice that shortly after they left, the body of Marcus, which should have been dead, trembled slightly.

A shadow slipped out from within it.

—

The path from the hall to the ground felt much longer than when they came, not because of the distance, but because of Mephia’s pace.

She walked very slowly.

Every step seemed to take all her strength. Her steps were unsteady, swaying as if she might fall.

Several times she almost collapsed, only managing to stay upright by gripping Celeste’s wrist.

Her breathing grew more and more labored.

Cold sweat dripped down her cheeks, falling onto the cold floor.

Celeste watched her, her brow slightly furrowed.

“What’s wrong with you? Didn’t you overexert yourself to transform into that form?”

At that, Mephia paused in her steps, and her unsteady figure straightened up again.

“You think too much.”

After that, Mephia brought Celeste to the dungeon.

Standing in the center of the cell, Celeste looked down at the layers of shackles on her body and couldn’t help but twitch the corners of her mouth.

Her wrists, ankles, neck, and even her abdomen were wrapped in heavy magic-repressing shackles.

The cold metal pressed against her skin, almost suffocating her.

She slumped to the ground, looked up at Mephia standing outside the cell, and spoke with a hint of helplessness.

“Even if you’re going to lock me up, do you have to put so many things on me?”

Mephia snorted coldly.

Then she stood by the cell door, one hand gripping the cold iron bars, her head lowered, as if taking several deep breaths.

It was a long while before she finally lifted her head and looked at Celeste.

In those eyes, besides the sternness befitting an Inquisitor, there was also deep exhaustion and drowsiness.

“Less talking! Speak! What is the Witch Council plotting in Hela City? What other organizations are colluding with you?!”

Hearing this, Celeste blinked and replied, “…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Clearly, Mephia didn’t believe her.

“Nightingale, I’m telling you, my patience is limited. If you really refuse to talk, I will resort to torture. Don’t push me.”

“But I really don’t know,” Celeste replied again.

“You!”

Mephia’s chest heaved a few times, then, as if she couldn’t hold on any longer, she instinctively supported herself on the iron bars.

Celeste, meanwhile, felt she was being wronged.

She truly had no understanding of the Witch Council’s schemes.

As a core member of the Witch Council, aside from knowing some of the Council’s origins and certain secrets, she knew nothing else.

At the same time, she even suspected that the Witch Council had no real conspiracy in Hela City—otherwise, how could she be the only core member here?

Just as Celeste was pondering, Mephia’s face turned pale.

Then she gritted her teeth, forced her eyes open, and looked at Celeste in the cell.

That face, through blurry vision, seemed so distant, so unreal.

“Hmph, I have something to attend to. I’ll interrogate you later. I hope by then you’ll have figured everything out.”

If it were before, capturing the witch Nightingale would have meant she would interrogate until she got the information she wanted before letting her off.

But not this time.

The aftermath of breaking the seal and using full power made it impossible for her to stay here. Her drowsy consciousness forced her to find a place to rest immediately.

So after saying that, she leaned against the wall, step by step, disappearing into the shadows at the end of the dungeon.

—

Meanwhile, at the other end of Hela City.

In a dimly lit room, candle flames swayed, casting flickering shadows on the surrounding walls.

The air was thick with the musty smell of dampness mixed with a faint, elusive scent of blood.

A man in an Inquisitor’s uniform knelt on one knee in the center of the room.

His head was bowed, his posture respectful and humble.

His eyes, which usually shone with arrogance, were now lowered, not daring to look up.

Ahead of him was a wavering black shadow.

The shadow stood on a seat, its outline blurry and distorted, as if it might be blown away by the candlelight at any moment.

But the chilling pressure it exuded seemed to lower the temperature of the entire room by a few degrees.

The man’s throat moved slightly.

“Milord, what’s wrong?!”

The black shadow coughed violently a few times, its blurry outline swaying as if it might dissipate at any moment.

“Cough… cough…”

Its voice was hoarse and weak, carrying an undeniable fatigue and lingering fear.

“If I hadn’t escaped in time, I would have been done for there.”

The man was startled.

“How is that possible? Milord, you possess Gold Rank strength…”

“Hmph, are you suggesting I’m lying to you?”

The black shadow let out a cold snort, causing the man’s face to instantly turn pale.

He quickly lowered his head, almost pressing his forehead to the cold floor.

“No, no! I would never dare!”

The black shadow looked at him, its blurry outline quivering.

After a long while, it finally withdrew its gaze and muttered to itself with a hint of wariness.

“I never expected that Inquisitor from the Imperial Capital would have that kind of ability… And wasn’t that experiment supposed to have failed?”

Experiment? What experiment?

The man knelt on the ground, not daring to speak or ask.

The black shadow was silent for a moment, then commanded, “You are to immediately lead several Inquisitors who also belong to Snake Eye to investigate that Inquisitor’s hiding place.”

“She is severely injured and should have no strength left to resist. Once you find her, kill her immediately without any hesitation. Do you understand?”

Feeling the icy killing intent from the black shadow, the man hurriedly lowered his head.

“Yes, Milord!” Then he vanished from the room.

Staring at the now-empty room, the black shadow was silent for a long time, then sighed.

“Don’t disappoint me, Raymond.”