Ling's condition stabilized.
Just like the bizarre arrangement when they first boarded the ship, the mercenaries carrying wooden guns divided everyone into several groups. Those who were battered and in critical condition were carried into the strange wooden house to receive treatment first, followed by the young, families with children, and then adults.
Lucia and Ling were at the front of the line—the entire treatment process was very quick. Blindfolded, she held her sister and was led into the small house with the help of the mercenaries. Before long, someone handed her a pill. The pill was small and slightly sweet, and they even proactively told her that her sister's medicine had already been given to her, so she didn't need to worry.
Walking out of the room and taking off her hood, she was pleasantly surprised to see Ling's complexion improving at a visible rate. Although she was still unconscious, her forehead was no longer burning hot, the redness on her face had faded, and the black spots had disappeared without a trace.
When everyone was freed from the fear of imminent death and reborn, they were almost too excited to control themselves. They knelt down and cheered towards the gray-haired man in the distance, paying him the highest respect. They learned from the mercenaries that he was the lord of the area, the ruler of the Western Territory, Roland Wimbledon.
What followed was exactly as the rumors had said. The lord not only lit bonfires by the pier and cooked meat porridge to distribute to everyone, but also told them that as long as they were willing to work for the town, they could obtain rewards, food, and housing here. Everyone enjoyed the fragrant meat porridge while discussing amongst themselves, saying how fortunate they were to have boarded the fleet to the Western Territory, and praising the lord's benevolence.
Only Lucia felt a trace of anxiety.
How on earth was she going to contact the Witch Union? The message that was circulating in secret only said that a group of witches had stayed in Border Town, but did not mention how to find them—probably because important parts were lost during the transmission. She vaguely heard that the message had spread from a large city in the central kingdom.
Just as everyone was filling their stomachs and being led by the mercenaries towards the wooden shacks by the river, a woman's voice suddenly appeared behind Lucia.
"Are you looking for us?"
She was startled and jumped forward two steps while turning around, preparing to run away, but when the appearance of the person caught her eye, Lucia couldn't help but freeze in place.
Good heavens, what a beautiful woman. Her long, curly hair emitted a soft orange glow under the flickering firelight, her eyes were as bright as stars, and a sweet smile graced the corners of her lips. Most striking was the temperament she exuded, no less than any noble, as if she herself were a great figure.
"My name is Nightingale, and I am a witch. Welcome to the Western Territory town."
This feeling made Lucia involuntarily lower her head. "I... my name is Lucia White. I want to join you."
"Then come with me," Nightingale smiled slightly. "I'll take you home."
At this time, the sun had already set behind the mountains, leaving only a faint light in the sky. Lucia carried the sleeping Ling on her back, walking slowly behind her.
"When did you awaken?" she asked.
"Awaken?" Lucia was taken aback.
"That is, the moment you transformed into a witch," Nightingale explained. "From then on, magic power will continuously gather in your body. We call this transformation awakening."
"I think... about two years ago," Lucia recalled. "Is magic power the power of demons?"
"That's just what the church says," she shook her head. "Magic power is the ability given to us by heaven, and has nothing to do with good and evil. The so-called demonic possession is just the backlash on the body when magic power is full, which can be avoided by practicing your abilities."
"You don't have to endure that kind of pain?" Lucia's eyes widened.
"That's right. If there were no church oppression, witches wouldn't have to endure the pain of backlash at all." Nightingale winked. "And this is the home where we can use our abilities freely." She pointed behind her. "Is this cute little one your sister? Where are your other family members?"
"They're all dead. Only Ling and I escaped," Lucia was silent for a moment. "A group of people attacked Gold穗城, they were burning, killing, and looting everywhere. Father was trying to resist them, and was... pierced through the chest by several swords. Mother told us to run quickly, and then she also..." A long-suppressed grief surged into her heart, making her unable to say another complete word. The hardships, hunger, thirst, and fear endured along the way all turned into grievances and burst forth. For her sister's sake, she had gritted her teeth and persevered until now, but the line of defense built up in her heart seemed no longer able to stop the violently fluctuating emotions. Sobbing quickly turned into loud crying. She knew it wasn't good, that she should maintain etiquette when meeting someone for the first time, but the tears were like a storm, unstoppable.
She would be hated by the other person, right? She felt her tears and snot mixing together, her mouth full of salty taste. However, what Lucia didn't expect was that a pair of arms wrapped around her, embracing her in a warm embrace. The other person gently patted the back of her head, not minding the dirt smeared on her face by the tears, and softly comforted her: "Cry, it'll be better once you cry it out."
...
When Lucia calmed down and looked up, she saw that the other person's shoulder was soaked with her tears.
"I'm, I'm sorry..." she said, her face flushed.
"It's okay, are you feeling better?" Nightingale took out a handkerchief to wipe her face, picked up Ling with one arm, and took her hand with the other. "Let's go, there are many sisters waiting for you."
Lucia had originally thought that the witches' residence would be located in some inconspicuous abandoned warehouse or basement, but she didn't expect Nightingale to take her to the castle district—wasn't this the lord's private territory? What surprised her even more was that the guards not only didn't stop her, but also waved to her in greeting.
Could it be that the Witch Union had taken control of the entire town?
When she went up to the third floor of the castle and entered a brightly lit room, she was shocked to find that the man sitting opposite her was none other than the lord who had previously received the cheers of the people.
"This is the leader of the Witch Alliance, Roland Wimbledon. He has taken in the surviving witches of the Witch Union and spread the news to other cities, hoping to attract more sisters who have nowhere to go," Nightingale introduced. "And this town is the home of the witches. You don't need to doubt this, because the people who saved your sister and all the patients on the ship were the witches."
Lucia's mind was blank. She had never imagined that a noble would be willing to take in witches, instead of treating them as tools or slaves. When she came back to her senses, she hurriedly bowed, her awkward posture making Nightingale laugh. "It's okay, His Highness doesn't care about these formalities."
"You came from the Eastern Territory?" The lord's voice was calm and relaxed, not like an interrogation, but like a casual chat.
Lucia secretly glanced at the other person, only to see him leaning casually in his chair, his expression full of interest.
"Yes..."
As the conversation deepened and Nightingale explained and supplemented from the side, her mood gradually relaxed. Although the other person was a noble, he didn't have an overbearing attitude, but rather like a caring elder.
"I see, awakened for two years, and not yet an adult..." he said with interest. "So, what is your ability?"
"To return an object to its original form," Lucia hesitated. "But it doesn't work on everything."
"Original form?" The lord stroked his chin and pushed a beautiful cup in front of him. "Can you show me?"
"It will destroy it."
"It doesn't matter."
Lucia nodded, walked to the table, and placed her hand above the cup.
Before long, the cup began to shrink and deform, eventually turning into three distinct substances: the leftmost looked like a pool of oil, black and viscous, the middle was a small cluster of black powder, and the rightmost was a pool of clear water, slowly dripping down the table.