Agatha woke up again to find the room empty. The thick curtains were drawn, making it seem particularly quiet.

Perhaps considering her unfamiliarity with the environment, a candle was kept lit by the bedside, its orange flame burning silently.

She tilted her head and gazed at it for a long time, noticing that not a single drop of wax flowed down. The candle remained the same length, as if it would never burn out.

It must be magic, she thought.

The quilt on her body was very soft, probably woven from fine cotton, filled with light and warm down-like fibers. This treatment was no worse than what she had received in the Holy City of Taqila. It was hard to believe that such a comfortable bed and bedroom could exist in the desolate lands.

She moved her fingers, and her strength had mostly returned. Agatha turned over and got out of bed, channeling her magic. A chill immediately emanated from her fingertips—it seemed the prince had not tampered with her any further, but had removed the God's Stone of Retribution, granting her a certain degree of freedom.

She walked to the window and lifted a corner of the curtain. Outside, it was pitch black. No stars could be seen, nor the moon. The entire earth seemed to be swallowed by darkness, with only a few dim lights flickering in the far distance. Through the window, she could hear the wind howling outside, and occasionally see snowflakes falling on the glass.

It seemed to be winter now, a good season for witches to awaken. In Taqila, such nights were never seen. Every day in winter was a city-wide celebration. Bonfires burned all night in the streets, and when viewed from the tower, it seemed the entire city was ablaze. The flickering flames resembled stars, symbolizing hope and the future. People prayed around the bonfires, hoping to gather magic and cross the threshold of mortals. Whenever a witch appeared, her family's fate would also change, and they would never have to worry about food or clothing again.

Agatha raised the latch and pushed open the window. A gust of cold wind rushed into the room, causing the curtains to billow back. The candle inside the room was extinguished. Darkness immediately surged in, filling every corner of the room completely. After her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see the faint white light reflected from the snow on the rooftops of the town. From the scope of the buildings, this place was indeed small, consistent with what the prince called "Border Town."

In such cold weather, ordinary people would freeze after a few hours outside, but Agatha was not afraid of the cold. Any chill that made her feel slightly uncomfortable would be automatically ignored by her body. She only felt cold before she awakened, and now she had almost forgotten what it felt like.

Closing her eyes, Agatha's mind was filled with the previous conversation.

The Association was gone, witches had become the claws of demons, and mortals, relying on the God's Stone of Retribution, were wantonly hunting witches... From that note, Akaliz and Nataya had both successfully escaped the Fertile Plains. If even they could not stop it, the Association's destruction was inevitable.

What exactly happened that caused these two transcendent beings to be defeated by mortals?

She simply didn't want to think about it anymore.

"Aren't you cold?" someone suddenly asked from behind.

Agatha was startled. She turned around and saw a woman sitting by the bed in the dim light, her face completely hidden in the darkness, like a ghost that had suddenly appeared. The door was still tightly closed, and she hadn't heard any footsteps before.

"If you could close the window, I wouldn't mind relighting the candle," she added.

There was no doubt that the other person was a witch.

What was she doing here so late?

Agatha nodded silently, closed the window, and quietly let thin ice gradually creep over her skin. The newcomer did not make any dangerous moves, but opened the first drawer of the bedside table, took out a flint, and lit the candle—as the light appeared, she saw the other person's appearance: beautiful golden curly hair, slender eyebrows, and a very sharp gaze. She was not any of the witches she had seen before.

"Nice to meet you... no, this is the second time we've met," she curled her lips, "My name is Nightingale."

Did that mean...she had been hiding in the crowd before? "Is this your ability?" Agatha frowned, "Are you also a high-level Awakened?"

Even if she was a respectable high-level witch, it was very impolite to intrude without greeting.

"Ah, you mean evolution..." Nightingale shook her head, "I'm not as smart as Anna, I can't finish reading *Fundamentals of Nature* in such a short time. My head will explode when I see those formulas and theorems. Evolution is probably not in the cards for me in this lifetime."

Half of the words in the short answer were incomprehensible. Agatha was stunned. She never expected an "Original Witch" to say such things, and judging by her expression, she didn't seem to be deliberately teasing her. Could these be the...knowledge that the prince was talking about?

"Can I see that...Fundamentals of Nature?"

"Of course, as long as you're willing to join the Witch Union and serve His Highness the Prince," she shrugged.

"Serve a mortal?" Agatha's eyes widened, and after a long while, she whispered, "I thought I was weird enough, but I didn't expect you to be even crazier."

"Weird? Crazy?" Nightingale tilted her head, "Why do you say that?"

"In the Holy City of Taqila, most Awakened only treat ordinary people who can't condense magic as lowly servants, inferiors, or...breeding tools," she said slowly, "But I don't think so. Although they are foolish, they are by no means beyond redemption. As long as they are taught to learn and think, these people can do most things as well as witches. That's why many people think I'm weird for entrusting some of the tasks in the tower to mortals. I didn't expect you to go even further, actually recognizing a mortal as your master and serving him."

"His Royal Highness Roland doesn't treat us as servants," Nightingale pouted, "I don't know what strange understanding you have of the word serve, but the truth is, he has taken in witches oppressed by the church, given the sisters new powers, and allowed everyone to live together with the people in the Western Territory. Everyone fights against the church and the demonic beasts together, and will also fight against the demons together in the future."

"But this model has been proven to be a failure!" Agatha couldn't help but raise her voice a little, "More than four hundred years ago... or perhaps several hundred years ago for you, it was an era when mortals and witches co-ruled. At that time, humans were almost all over the Dawn Border, but when faced with the demons' attacks, the result was a complete defeat, leaving only the Fertile Plains."

"Oh?" she raised her eyebrows, "There was such a thing?"

"You said that this buried history is already more than four hundred and fifty years ago," Agatha continued, "According to the records of the Association, the Third Battle of Divine Will is about to begin, and you know nothing about the demons! East of the Desolate Lands is the Whirlpool Sea. Where else can you retreat to? Only by rebuilding the Association, uniting the witches, and increasing the chances of high-level awakening according to that knowledge, is it possible to seize the last chance and stop the demons' attack!"

"Why do you have to say that?"

"What?"

"It's been more than four hundred years now, hasn't it? Four hundred years can change a lot of things. Why are you still clinging to your previous ideas and refusing to let go?" Nightingale sighed, "You also heard what His Highness said when he left: Mortals can defeat demons. He is also doing something to unite everyone, but it's not just witches. He wants to unite every ordinary person on the continent. He told me that the people all over the continent are the most powerful group."

"Absurd—" Agatha was about to retort this nonsense, but suddenly stopped. The other person spoke so confidently, as if she had already seen the result. Could four hundred years really change all of this? Could it be that...that gray-haired prince actually had such incredible power that he could make mortals have power comparable to witches?

"You seem to have realized it," Nightingale smiled lightly, "The time is still long. Why not put down your defenses and use your own eyes to confirm it?"

This time, Agatha was silent for a long time, "...I can tell that you don't like me."

The other person didn't refute it.

"The witches of the Exploration Society also often look at me with such eyes—since they found out that I hired a group of mortals as experimental assistants in the tower," she said, "You clearly don't like me, so why are you telling me all this?"

"As long as you restrain your arrogance and treat His Highness normally, I won't hate you that much. As for the latter..." she paused, "Because His Highness said that he doesn't want to see you being abandoned by the times."