This didn't feel like imprisonment, Isabella thought, if she didn't look down at the shackles on her wrists and ankles.

Since telling them that the cage built of God's Stone of Retribution was ineffective against her, she had been moved to an ordinary bedroom guarded by soldiers. After migrating to the Western Region of Graycastle, her "cell" hadn't changed much. It wasn't damp and cold, nor did it have the stench of dirty water flowing freely. Apart from a bed and a bench, the empty room contained a small cubicle as a toilet. The windows were all sealed with iron bars, but that didn't prevent the warm sunshine from shining in. Overall, it was much better than the secret prison of the Papal State.

Isabella had originally thought that she would suffer some "normal" prisoner-of-war treatment, especially since the witches' outstanding appearance was prone to attract extra covetousness, but nothing had happened. There were indeed guards outside the door at all times, but no one sneaked into the room in the middle of the night, nor was there any humiliation or beatings. Apart from delivering meals on time every day, they hardly said a word.

The witch who claimed to be from the Union more than four hundred years ago would often come to see her, accompanied by a blond witch shrouded in the shadow of a hood. No matter what they asked, Isabella would answer truthfully. She even asked the two of them for paper and pens, and when she had nothing to do, she would transcribe some secret histories or demonic literature that she had seen in the Holy Temple's archives.

There was no torture or interrogation that she had expected. It was obvious that the blond witch wanted to make trouble for her, but every time she answered the questions in detail, the other party would leave with a cold face, which made her quite puzzled.

Of course, Isabella didn't think that these witches were naive enough to believe everything she said. Judging from their reactions during the interrogation, at least one of them could discern lies. Was the blond witch waiting for her to lie before taking action? This was exactly what confused her—there were countless excuses to punish her, or rather, there was no need to find any excuses at all, so why bother?

However, as the days passed, her heart sank more and more.

It had been almost two months, why hadn't Roland Wimbledon appeared yet?

There were only two possible answers: either the king was still not awake, or he simply didn't intend to see her. Neither of these was good news for Isabella. Perhaps when she had finished explaining everything she knew, what awaited her would be sentencing and execution.

Although she was willing to give everything to fight the demons, and had no complaints about this outcome, the days of waiting for death to approach still made her feel exhausted.

Isabella sighed, dragged her shackles to the bedside, picked up a quill pen, and clumsily spread a new piece of white paper on her lap—writing down everything she remembered sooner should also allow her to be freed sooner.

Just then, footsteps sounded outside the room.

The sound was a bit chaotic, obviously more than two people.

Isabella's heart trembled slightly.

The door was pushed open. She put down her pen and turned her head, discovering that in addition to the usual two witches, there was also a gray-haired man. If the intelligence was correct, he should be the Fourth Prince of the Wimbledon family, the current King of Graycastle.

Roland Wimbledon had awakened?

Or had he come here to pronounce her sentence?

Isabella stood up and bowed slightly.

"I thought you wouldn't come to see me," she said, feigning composure.

"So you're Isabella, the one who made the God's Stone of Retribution I was wearing ineffective… It's not that I wanted to delay until now, it's just that I had a long dream, and I only woke up recently." His calm tone surprised her, and the content was even more astonishing. "In the dream, I fought and killed with the Pure, and finally won, but not like she said, the winner takes all—whether it's knowledge or skill."

"That's impossible!" Isabella blurted out.

"Why?" Roland asked with interest. "Couldn't it be that men can't awaken as witches, so they can't inherit everything from her?"

"It has nothing to do with men and women," she shook her head. "The spoils that the winner of the soul battlefield can obtain are memories and lifespan. These are things that everyone possesses, but the unique abilities of witches cannot be

absorbed, and magic power cannot be increased out of thin air, otherwise Zero would have swallowed me long ago. That is to say, it must be a creature that possesses both of these points at the same time to be included in the soul battlefield."

"You mean… there are creatures that she cannot invade?"

"Of course, animals without any intelligence cannot enter the soul battlefield," Isabella explained. "Even if they win, they cannot understand human memories."

"Then it may also be due to different races."

"As far as I know, among the thousands of souls she has devoured, there are also demons and mixed-breed evil beasts." She sighed, "It's just that these things all happened before I was born, and were mentioned when I chatted with her."

The three opposite her couldn't help but look at each other, "Demons and… evil beasts?"

"Why didn't you say so earlier?" the blond witch demanded.

"Because this news will only deepen your worries and will not help solve the problem," Isabella said slowly. "Even Zero thought that the memories of different species were too crazy and would cause a great burden on herself. She never made similar attempts again after that."

"That's a bit interesting," the king not only didn't show any lingering fear, but instead curled the corners of his lips. "By the way, did Zero ever mention to you what the endings of the losers in the soul battlefield are?"

"Complete disappearance, as if they never existed."

"No difference?" he raised his eyebrows. "For example, people who actively surrender and those who resist to the death, is the result the same?"

"Regardless of which one, they will disappear, but…" Isabella pondered as she answered, "Zero seemed to have said that there are two types of memories she absorbs."

"Which two?" Roland seemed particularly interested in this question.

"One is chaotic and has residual consciousness, which will affect Zero herself, and the other is complete and there for her to browse at will," she paused, "the former is more difficult to recall and easier to forget… She just mentioned it casually at the time, and I didn't ask much, but I've never seen a situation like yours, where you don't accept a trace of memory at all."

This time the silence was longer. The other party closed his eyes and remained silent for a long time, as if he was thinking about an extremely complex problem. His brows were also furrowed without any concealment. After about a quarter of an hour, he finally let out a long breath, "I see."

What exactly did he understand?

Although Isabella was curious, she didn't ask.

She knew her identity.

"Now, it's time to talk about you," Roland continued.