Chapter 26

Witch’s Sacrament

Lord Matthias prepared a modest drinking gathering. Kir Castle was not wealthy enough to host a grand feast for unexpected guests. At best, they lit several candles in the castle’s cramped dining hall and shared drinks.

Ulrich, using the alias Armin, sat beside the lord and drank the wine he was poured. With a smile on his lips and his voice raised energetically, he carried the conversation.

He looked like a bold young man in his early twenties. With such a promising youth responding enthusiastically and offering compliments, the lord grew pleased and drank far more than Ulrich himself.

Roberta and Fritz watched Ulrich’s performance with interest. His act did not falter even as the night deepened, making them wonder if that demeanor might actually be his true personality. It was so different from the restrained life he had shown in Dithmarschen.

“……”

At the same time, Roberta kept stealing glances at Oxana.

Oxana Narses—the lord’s wife and a mage who bore the name of one of the Five Sages—was also part of the conversation.

She responded appropriately between the exchanges of the two men, but from time to time, she glanced out the window or toward the door, distracted. Knowing the group would leave in the morning, she was growing anxious.

But Matthias, unaware of her state of mind, continued speaking with Ulrich and kept her by his side, leaving her no chance to step away.

“Lord Matthias, do you not yet have children?”

After Matthias’s face had turned red from drink, Ulrich asked.

“Hmm… did the young master not mention it?”

“Ah, was that an inappropriate question?”

Setting down his cup, Matthias let out a sigh.

“In truth, I do have one daughter. She simply isn’t here right now.”

“So she must be staying elsewhere.”

“No. I almost wish that were the case. To my shame, she caused trouble and ran away from home. I spoiled her too much as my only child, and she lost all sense of her place.”

Drunk, Matthias rambled on. He spoke of how his only daughter, Marika, had caused disturbances—harming the servants who cared for her during illness, insulting her stepmother Oxana, even being involved in scandalous rumors with a priest.

“She wasn’t like that originally. But after her mother died and I brought Oxana into the household, she grew jealous. I disciplined her harshly each time, but eventually, she became more than I could handle…”

“That must have been very difficult.”

“Well… I could endure it. She is my daughter, after all. But perhaps she could not endure it herself—while I was away, she ran off with a servant.”

Matthias added that he had given up on chasing her, and that it had been ten days since Marika left. When asked if he wasn’t worried, he shook his head.

“With that weak body of hers, how far could she go with just a few servants? Once her money runs out, she’ll come back.”

Listening, Roberta narrowed her eyes.

It must be slander. He’s been deceived by that witch like a fool.

If what Matthias said were true—if Marika truly had such a troublesome personality—then there would have been no need for Oxana to intervene at all. If left alone, her reputation would have ruined itself.

Matthias and Oxana did not yet have children, but they had time. Both were still young—there was every possibility they would have children in the future.

Even if they had a child next year, it would take twenty years to grow. That was more than enough time to push Marika aside—even if she was the only daughter of a deceased wife.

“Even if she comes back now begging for forgiveness, I won’t accept it. I tolerated everything she did, and yet she still spat in her father’s face!”

Bang—

He slammed his cup against the table. His flushed face twisted with anger, as though it might burst at any moment.

“She is still your daughter.”

Ulrich leaned slightly forward and spoke calmly.

“Even if you are angry now, when you meet her again, would it not be better to speak gently with her? From what I hear, she hasn’t even come of age yet. At that age, emotions are hard to control.”

At those words, Matthias let out a long sigh and lowered his head deeply. Ulrich gestured to a servant standing by the wall. The servant helped the lord to his feet and led him out of the room.

Now, aside from the servants, four people remained—and among them, Oxana also rose, using the excuse that she would follow her husband.

Clouds filled the night sky.

The moon was already less than half visible, and once the clouds covered it, darkness completely swallowed the land. There was no wind, and even sound seemed to have been devoured—everything was silent.

Marika was there, alone in the stable.

The girl, in the form of a young horse, had been kept apart from the others. Fritz had said she was too sensitive and would cause trouble if mixed with the other horses.

Thus, a stable that had long stood unused within the small castle became her resting place for the night. Aside from occasional visits by servants for cleaning, no one came there.

But now—at this late hour—there were footsteps.

“……”

Marika pricked up her ears and turned toward the sound. Someone was approaching, but it was too dark to see.

If they came closer—just a few more steps—she would be able to tell who it was.

But then, a faint breeze brushed past her nose.

Drowsiness overtook her, and her eyes closed.

Thud—

As Marika collapsed, someone approached her.

That person rummaged through their clothes as they walked into the stable. Just then, the clouds covering the moon drifted away, pushing back the darkness. The glass vial in her hand gleamed.

She checked its contents and removed the stopper. A sinister smile formed on her lips. Her gaze turned toward the unconscious Marika.

“What are you trying to do?”

The moment she stepped inside, a voice rang out. Startled, she turned her head—two figures were hiding in the shadows of the wall.

“Lady Oxana, please explain yourself.”

Whoosh—

Flames flared to life.

Roberta manipulated the flow of mana and lit a torch. The fire illuminated Fritz standing beside her—and also revealed Oxana Narses, who had entered the stable.

Caught in the sudden light, Oxana raised her hands to cover her face. Then, forcing down her shock, she answered.

“…I was worried, so I came to check.”

Her voice trembled badly.

“You said the horse was sensitive. I thought it might be frightened if left alone… I came to give it something.”

“You do realize that’s a pointless excuse.”

Roberta let out a scoff, her tone cold with ridicule.

“We know that child is Marika. We know you’re the one who turned her into this—and we also know that what you’re holding is poison. Don’t waste our time.”

Oxana fell silent.

“We only chose to meet you and the lord first to avoid any misunderstandings. There was a small chance that he might have been involved with you.”

Roberta opened her palm, revealing the mark of a priest.

Under the dim moonlight, the emblem of Ganymea shone with a vivid blue light, causing Oxana’s eyes to widen.

She had been certain she wouldn’t be discovered—but she had been deceived. She thought this was her last chance—but it was a trap.

Driven by impatience, she cursed herself for making a foolish mistake she normally never would have made.

“Now that we’ve confirmed you’re the only culprit, there’s no need to hide anything.”

At that moment—

Another set of footsteps echoed.

Two people.

Ulrich and Matthias. They had followed the very path Oxana had taken and now stood behind her. They had been trailing her all along. Matthias’s expression was more rigid than ever before.

Though the scent of alcohol still lingered, his face had regained its usual color—as if his drunkenness had already faded. He hesitated for a moment as he looked at her, then spoke.

“Oxana…”

His words trailed off. But no one present failed to understand what he meant to ask.

Is it true? Is that fallen young horse truly my only daughter—and did you turn her into this?

Naturally, Oxana had intended to deny it. What would admitting it change? Even if the horse’s identity were revealed, as long as she denied it, there was no concrete proof—only circumstantial evidence. She might not be able to reverse the outcome entirely, but at the very least, she had to escape the immediate crisis.

But she couldn’t speak.

Because the moment she met Matthias’s gaze, she saw the certainty in his face.

Why?

Oxana could not understand.

Why are you looking at me like that?

Even with circumstantial evidence, these were still claims from people he had only met for a day. No matter how much weight a formal priest’s words carried, the time Oxana and Matthias had spent together was far longer. Hadn’t they whispered words of love just that morning? So why had his heart turned so completely? What had he heard?

It couldn’t have been the priest Roberta alone. Nor Fritz, the fourth son of Count Meyer.

Then there was only one answer—the young man standing beside Matthias. The one called Armin of Dithmarschen.

“I have shown you a disgraceful sight, Lord Ulrich.”

Matthias spoke in a voice heavy with exhaustion.

Oxana’s eyes widened as she stared at Armin—no, Ulrich.

Him?

The man who had lived for over three hundred years? The very person whom Count Meyer had earnestly sought out, sending his most cherished son to serve as an attendant?

Her reason screamed that it was a lie. How could a human—no matter what strange blood ran in them—live for centuries while maintaining such a youthful appearance? Even she, a mage skilled enough to bear the name Narses, could not do such a thing.

Her eyes trembled wildly with confusion.

“Oxana, you who bear the name of Narses.”

“……”

“This was entirely your doing.”

Ulrich spoke calmly, his gaze fixed on her.

“You should have finished it cleanly.”

“Oxana…”

Matthias called her name again. Because of her own muttered words, his suspicion had turned into certainty. His expression was now filled with sorrow and a mix of emotions.

Seeing that, Oxana frowned. If he had properly mediated between Marika and herself from the beginning, would she have been driven to such extremes?

More than guilt, she felt resentment.

“That’s right. I did it. While you were dithering without making any real decision, I made one for you. You were torn between that inferior first child and the one yet to be born, weren’t you?”

“I told you I would handle that myself.”

“And did you?”

She let out a mocking laugh.

“I merely did what you couldn’t. So there wouldn’t be any problems later.”

“…I didn’t know you were this kind of person.”

Roberta stepped forward, cutting off their exchange.

“That’s enough. Restore Marika immediately.”

“Why should I? Will that make everything disappear?”

Shing—

Roberta drew her sword. As she quietly recited a prayer, the blade became enveloped in a faint light.

Oxana had rarely seen someone refine mana to such a sharp degree. Tension spread across her face.

“You’d suit being a warrior more than a priest.”

To hide her unease, she sneered. Roberta said nothing, staring coldly at the witch.

“Do you think you can defeat me?”

“……”

“No—more importantly, do you think killing me will bring her back? Do you think this is some simple spell? Like a fairy tale, where killing the witch reveals the truth?”

A wind began to stir outside the stable. The scattered clouds that had briefly left the moon uncovered were now gathered together by that wind.

“This is a perfectly crafted combination. I didn’t just crudely twist and suppress the flow of mana. Even if I die—even if my connection to it is severed—it won’t revert. I fixed it that way. Only I can undo it.”

She twisted one corner of her lips into a smile.

“Why don’t you beg me instead? Who knows? I might change my mind.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, witch!”

Roberta kicked off the ground.

“Hmph!”

At the same time, Oxana thrust out her right hand. Thunder roared. Lightning struck, shattering the stable’s roof as it descended toward the priest charging at her, blade glowing blue.

In an instant, blinding light spread in all directions, turning the world white.

Yet Oxana did not lose sight for even a moment. She jerked her head back—just barely avoiding the mana-honed blade that sliced through the air where she had been.

“…You monstrous woman.”

With her back slammed against the wall, Oxana spat the insult.

Roberta stood a few steps away, glaring at her. Steam rose faintly from her body, struck by lightning, and her skin was flushed red from internal injury.

Did she conceal her age like the duke?

Watching her take a deep breath, Oxana ground her teeth. She had already sensed that the mana-infused blade was no ordinary skill—but to withstand that strike so directly…

Even if Matthias and Fritz are nothing, if the duke joins in… this could be dangerous. No matter how weakened, a temple is still a temple.

The witch changed form.

She became a crow no larger than a span of three hands and beat her wings fiercely. The transformation happened in the blink of an eye, too fast for Roberta to block. The crow dodged once more and burst out of the stable, soaring into the sky.

—You will never catch me.

Oxana’s mocking voice echoed in the minds of those left on the ground.

But at that very moment, Ulrich raised his hand.

The flapping stopped.

As if seized by a sudden seizure midair, the crow’s body stiffened and began to fall helplessly.

Thud—

It struck the ground.

The crow’s body trembled. The transformation into a crow had been swift, but returning to human form took longer. Her body spread across the ground like spilled water, black feathers dissolving into pale skin—until Oxana the witch lay there once more.

Though she silently screamed from the pain of the fall, her face was filled with shock.

Mana… isn’t moving.

Why?

The mana she had controlled freely her entire life no longer obeyed her. Only the faintest thread responded to her call—too weak to even produce a glimmer of light.

It felt as though something had been lost. As though one of her senses had vanished. She could barely feel the flow of mana that had always been with her. She had never experienced anything like this in her life.

But she understood.

Her instincts told her—she had lost the very source that allowed her to control mana.

When the gods built their palace in the heavens, they scattered a substance throughout creation for the prosperity of all things. That substance no longer answered her.

Because her sacrament had been taken away.

“You foolish thing.”

She finally understood what it meant to be rejected by the heavens in a world created by the gods.

As that weight crushed down upon her, she looked up at a single man—with eyes filled with a loneliness and fear she had never known before.