Chapter 569: Witch

In the great prayer hall of Saint Samuel Church, Leikton, who had been praying with his eyes closed, suddenly opened his eyes; instinctively he looked up at the black night holy seal before him, and his gaze seemed to see through the seal a vague, illusory figure nodding at him.

No wonder a true god of Sequence 0 silently pulled me into a dream. Leikton sighed, while recalling the conversation he just had in the dream.

The "Knowledge Emperor" trait from Lilith can only be taken when I advance to "Hermit"; after becoming "Hermit", I can pry open the seal left by the Celestial Venerable and borrow power and persona from the original. Now only the "Knowledge Emperor" trait from the Steam Church remains selectable.

Collecting his thoughts, he rose from his seat, walked to the offering box in front, dropped two gold coins inside, then turned and left.

Just as he reached the side of the prayer hall, he ran head‑on into Leonard, who was emerging from inside the church.

Leonard merely gave the suddenly appearing person a quick glance, then stepped past him and headed toward the other side of the church.

As they passed each other, Leikton turned his head and whispered, "Looks like the old man recovered well. Good, I've already found where the thing to steal is. Ask him when he's free and give me an answer tonight."

Having said that, he walked out of the church without looking back, leaving only his silhouette in Leonard's sight.

After a moment's hesitation, Leonard snapped back to attention, lowered his head slightly, and muttered softly, "Old man, he—"

"That impolite kid, just changed his appearance," Parles's hoarse voice interrupted Leonard.

"Faceless one?" Leonard reacted quickly, recalling some records he had seen inside the church.

The Night Church also has a habit of training "Diviners"; the church isn't short of low‑sequence data on this path. After becoming a Red Glove, Leonard already obtained permission to consult most of the church's records.

In his mind, Parles's voice continued:

"No, 'Wizards' always create strange yet effective spells. Spells that alter appearance aren't rare, and he's already a 'Sage', so crafting a few minor spells isn't difficult."

"'Sage'? Which sequence is that?" Leonard said, walking toward the church exit, murmuring to himself.

"Basically it's the same as this church's name," Parles's voice said with a hint of irritation and sarcasm, as if Leonard's promotion speed were too slow.

Same as this church—Saint Samuel? That former Bishop of the Bakerland Diocese, who made outstanding contributions to spreading the goddess's faith, entered the divine realm while alive and became His Excellency Angel Saint Samuel!

Leonard couldn't control his expression; his dark‑green eyes widened, his mouth slightly opened, and after a moment he regained composure, quick‑stepping out of the church.

As soon as he left the church, he couldn't help but mutter under his breath:

"Old man, are you serious? Are you sure you didn't missee? He really became an angel?"

"He's an angel, after all; even among the great churches, he's a legendary figure recorded in the scriptures."

The Parles parasiting Leonard's body let out a dissatisfied snort, "Hmph, I'm not yet old‑eyed, he's only a Sequence‑2 angel. If you'd try harder, you might already be a Saint now."

"Impossible— even if my promotion kept up, I couldn't amass enough contribution to exchange for demonic elixirs," Leonard reflexively retorted.

"You chose the Night path, so it's destined to be hard to rise; extraordinary traits are limited, and competition in the Night Church is fierce."

Parles's voice carried some displeasure, lamenting Leonard's earlier refusal to follow his advice and his choice of the "Insomniac" path.

Leonard curled his lip, indifferent, "Both the corpse‑collector who deals with bodies all day and the diviner who's a charlatan don't suit me; the 'Midnight Poet' fits my style better."

"Ha, a poet who can't even create poetry?"

Parles's unceremonious mockery made Leonard's face turn black.

In the east district of Bakerland, inside a cheap inn room, Tris, wearing a men's shirt and wide‑leg trousers, leaned on a wooden chair, twirling a delicate bronze mirror in her hand.

Suddenly the bronze mirror slipped from her grasp, hit the floor, and shattered into pieces.

"Danger!" Tris's alarm rang out; she sprang up swiftly from the chair.

Illusory black flames fell from her body, slithering like black snakes through the room, incinerating everything they touched.

The bronze mirror was a trinket Leipad invented to please her; besides serving as a portable makeup mirror, its only function was to automatically shatter as a warning when danger approached, a bit stronger than a typical extraordinary‑person's intuition.

The flames in the room had not yet died down when a layer of white frost suddenly formed, and the temperature dropped rapidly. The white frost crawled up Tris's legs, spreading to her torso, making her body stiff and unable to move.

"Useless mirror—how could it react so fast," Tris muttered low, while igniting illusory black flames around herself, trying to melt the frost on her body.

The next second, the flames around her surged out of control, exploding and engulfing her entirely with a crackling sound.

At the flame's core, several broken mirror shards fell to the ground.

The witches' specialty: mirror‑substitution technique!

At the same time, by the window in the inn room, a graceful silhouette materialized out of thin air; she froze there, the men's shirt slipping down to her shoulders.

Tris's body held a strange pose, one foot on tiptoe, the other raised high, both hands lifted forward to chest level, as if caught in a bizarre sluggish and numb state, with abnormal red halos blooming on her neck and cheeks.

Her throat suddenly tickled, and an uncontrollable cough erupted, "Cough! Cough!"

Beneath the wall near the doorway stood a dark wooden table and chairs, with an oval dressing mirror placed on the tabletop.

As Tris's cough persisted, ripples crossed the mirror's surface, instantly dimming it; the interior seemed to contain countless things and layered spaces, becoming a passage to the mirror world.

In the next instant, a figure clad in a simple holy white robe floated up from the mirror; she did not emerge physically but hovered, grasping invisible threads, adjusting her posture mid‑air while pulling the sluggish Tris.

"…It's…you, cough! cough!"

Tris stared at the suddenly appearing beautiful woman, a flash of astonishment crossing her eyes; she tried to speak, but as soon as she opened her mouth, a violent cough seized her.

The "White Saintess" Katarina Pei, emerging from the mirror, smiled at Tris, leaning gracefully on the table edge, her right index and middle fingers slowly stirring in the air.

Invisible threads, under her control, rose from everywhere, binding Tris tightly, scraping her skin little by little, transmitting the mysterious‑science bacteria and viruses floating in the air into her body, destroying her.

"Cough! Cough cough!"

Tris's cough grew fiercer, but the sound grew softer.

Katarina's eyes showed a hint of pity; her gaze was gentle and compassionate as she looked at Tris, her soft voice sounding cold and indifferent:

"An 'Assassin' must patiently wait for the chance, delivering the deadliest strike the instant the prey lets its guard down."

"Seems the witch who originally guided you was rather irresponsible, training you so poorly."

Clap! Clap! Clap! Crisp applause rang in the corner of the room, and the two witches simultaneously wore stunned expressions.

A bitter smile tugged at Tris's mouth; she now lacked the strength even to turn her head. "Is this the suppression of a higher‑rank witch? I don't even know when the curse took hold."

"You?" Katarina gazed at the clapper in the corner, her emotions swirling, ending in astonishment and a barely perceptible fear.

Leikton twitched his mouth, flashing an insincere smile, "Good evening, Lady Katarina, we meet again."

"I didn't expect you were the one secretly aiding Tris; no wonder I couldn't divine any useful information."

"How did you appear? I've been observing Tris from the shadows for a while, and never noticed your presence."

Katarina spoke while silently dispersing mysterious‑science bacteria and viruses into the air; each strand of her hair quivered, each connected to an invisible thread.

Leikedun smiled at Katelina, and the next second his figure appeared directly behind her, pressed his lips to her ear and whispered, "I've always been here."

Katelina's expression suddenly went blank, and layers upon layers of babble echoed at her ear, as if countless insects and beasts were crazily burrowing into her mind.

Leikedun watched the briefly dazed Katelina, a faint curve lifting the corner of his mouth; in the time he had spoken, he had already used the mechanical glove on his right hand to virtually create several personalities, silently planting a seed of "contagious madness" on the opponent's mental island.

He lightly tapped her shoulder twice with his right hand; the "spiritual plague" infecting her erupted instantly, and all kinds of crazy, negative thoughts sprouted deep in her heart, seeking to tear apart everything around, including herself.

(End of chapter)