* * *

“It… it was to foresee the end!”

The soldiers who returned from Glada Valley had, as ordered, captured one of the witches alive. Within three hours of being brought to the torture chamber, the witch began screaming, claiming to know much more than the Great Witch.

She begged for her life, promising valuable information. Her cries were so loud and insistent that the news reached McClart himself. The moment she saw him, the witch started talking without being prompted, ranting about how useless the Great Witch was and how much more she knew.

“The Great Witch is nothing but a mere sacrifice! She was chosen only to foresee the end times!”

The ‘end’ mentioned by the witch came from ancient, baseless legends. Without knowing when or how it would happen, the witches prepared for it. The sole purpose of the Great Witch was to fulfill this role.

To that end, they preserved her bloodline, while all the other witches remained powerless and innocent. In reality, only one witch possessed true power, so killing her alone would eliminate the need for these tedious hunts.

“So the attunement with the beasts is a ritual to foresee the end?” McClart asked.

“Yes! The task of the Great Witch is to find the beast that will reveal the end times!”

“How would you identify this beast?” McClart pressed.

“If it survives the attunement, then… it is the demon incarnate that will merge with the Great Witch!”

“And if you find this beast?”

“If… if we kill the Great Witch after she merges with it, we can supposedly prevent the end…”

As the witch desperately explained, McClart stifled a yawn. Vienny’s claim of sensing things through animals in her dreams was already hard for him to believe, and this frantic explanation sounded like nothing more than a ridiculous tale.

“Feeding blood to beasts in the hope of finding one that wouldn’t die, declaring that beast as the harbinger of the end, and then killing the Great Witch to stop it? It all seems like an invention driven by hatred toward the Great Witch rather than a credible plan.”

“And now, you still haven’t found this apocalyptic beast, while your kind is about to be completely wiped out. Does that mean the end can no longer be prevented?”

McClart’s voice dripped with contempt, and the witch trembled and bowed her head. His once relaxed expression turned cold.

“Given what you’ve told me, I see no reason to spare you over the Great Witch.”

The witch’s face went pale with fear, and she shouted.

“I know things that Vienny doesn’t!”

“Then speak.”

The torturer nearby toyed with a long metal rod, his presence serving as a clear warning. The witch, watching him fearfully, whispered in a trembling voice.

“If… if I tell you, will you let me live?”

McClart felt a twinge of anger. At least Vienny didn’t waste his time with useless negotiations or bargaining. She was much calmer and more obedient than this new witch. He wondered if it was worth continuing to listen and considered the potential usefulness of this conversation.

If McClart wanted to gather information about the Great Witch before the High Priest arrived, there was no better source than another witch. With the Great Witch’s defection, there was bound to be anger brewing among the witches.

That decision had resulted in her capture, and with Vienny unwilling to speak, it seemed prudent to endure a bit longer to see what this witch might reveal.

“I won’t ask twice.”

The torturer pulled a saw from the wall, the sound echoing ominously. The witch’s face turned pale and she spoke hurriedly.

“The Great Witch must continue her bloodline to signal the end! So… Vienny’s mother gave birth to a new bloodline. Vienny doesn’t even know about it!”

“…Are you saying there’s another Great Witch?”

“Yes! She’s just a newborn, so you must bring her here and raise her according to… according to the teachings of Chiron!”

McClart felt the weariness that had clouded his mind begin to lift. So now, there were two bloodlines capable of attuning to beasts. One was here in his private chamber, and the other was somewhere out there. All of it was for the purpose of preventing the end…

Although the mention of the end still seemed far-fetched, the mention of another High Witch, unknown to Vienny, caught McClart’s attention. He tilted his head thoughtfully before suddenly asking a question.

“Does her mother not have any power as the Great Witch?”

“V-Vienny’s mother lost her power because she never fully merged with a beast. Now, her only remaining duty is to continue the bloodline…”

“No Great Witch can conceive alone. Who is the father?”

“Th-that…”

The witch hesitated, her words catching in her throat. After a moment’s pause, she looked away, stammering as she continued.

“It is not easy for a Great Witch’s bloodline to continue, so she must take seed from different men until a true Great Witch is born.”

Ah, that made sense.

At that moment, McClart found himself uncomfortably able to empathise even slightly with Vienny’s situation. It was a disturbing realisation, but it also shed light on questions he had long harboured.

He had always been curious why the Great Witch had turned her back on her own kind, begging for her life alone. How could she, despite leading all the other witches, betray them so easily without any sense of responsibility or guilt?

At least now he understood that the witches Vienny had led weren’t worth such sacrifices. Of course, Vienny was still the Great Witch, and it was clear that she possessed strange powers. So she was still someone who needed to be purified by fire.

But that didn’t have to happen just yet.

“This information was somewhat useful.”

The witch’s expression brightened slightly at his words. Perhaps encouraged by the hope of surviving instead of Vienny, she began to speak more eagerly.

“I know where Vienny’s mother is! The newborn is definitely with her as well…”

“Lord McClart, we found it!”

Someone called urgently from outside the bars. He stepped inside, bringing with him the chill of the outside air, damp leaves clinging to his clothes – evidence of his recent trek through the underbrush.

“There are real traces left behind.”

At those words, McClart, who had been sitting with his arms crossed, immediately stood up. The witch, startled by his sudden movement, tried to stand as well, but the torturer jabbed a metal bar into her thigh, causing her to scream and fall backwards.

There was a cacophony of screams and muffled cries echoed. But McClart didn’t turn to look.

“It seems there aren’t many,” he replied, striding forward.

His subordinate quickly caught up to him as they walked briskly.

“Do we know where they’ve gone?”

“We’ve released the dogs to track them.”

McClart’s expression darkened, his eyes cold and detached.

Vienny had mentioned seeing a person with black eyes near the burial grounds. Since it was known that all of Ifen’s people had been wiped out, there had to be a reason for her to mention it. It seemed that the attunement she had experienced was indeed real. McClart remembered Vienny, bloodied and suffering all night.

He had left her tied up in his private chamber while he slept in the next room. Not far away, he had heard her faint moans and kept a watchful ear on her condition as she writhed in pain.

He had witnessed her once-healing wound split open again, bright red blood gushing out. It was a chilling sight. What was particularly strange was that, despite the large amount of blood she lost, there was no foul odor.

Instead, her blood had a sweet scent, reminiscent of fine wine.

For a moment, he had almost considered tasting it.

“What would bring them all the way to this remote land of Tempe?”

If they had any sense of self-preservation, they would be hiding underground somewhere, not wandering around so brazenly here. McClart’s lips curled into a slight sneer.

The witch hunt had become a monotonous slaughter and he was beginning to get bored. The struggling Ifen would certainly provide some entertainment. Though he felt uneasy about the remaining stragglers, the prospect of cleansing them all at once was a welcome one.

“Send a message to the High Priest. Inform him that the Ifen have been sighted.”

“I’ll do it right away.”

Perhaps they had come to kill the High Priest. McClart found the thought amusing; a confrontation between the High Priest and the Ifen would be quite a sight. It would be interesting to see if their magic could pose a real threat to the High Priest.

“Um… are we keeping the Great Witch with us?”

His subordinate’s question brought McClart back to reality, stopping his imagination from running wild with the exciting possibilities ahead.

Everyone in the castle knew that the Great Witch was tied up in McClart’s chamber. While no one dared to think that anything improper was going on – given that the captive was a witch and McClart was in charge – they still struggled to understand his actions. After all, the place where the Great Witch was being held was his private chamber.

“Don’t beat around the bush—just say it directly.”

“There’s no need for the Great Witch’s insight in hunting witches. If the High Priest visits, why not send her to the capital?” his subordinate suggested.

McClart furrowed his brows.

“To the capital?”

“The High Priest must have a reason for his interest. If we send her there, they’ll handle it from that end.”

Initially, there were many unconfirmed rumours about the Great Witch, leading to the idea that the strongest Inquisitor should be in charge of her. Since she had agreed to cooperate, it made sense that the responsibility fell to McClart, who was leading the witch hunt.

But after half a year, McClart had learned just how docile and weak the Great Witch really was. Most of the ominous rumours had turned out to be false, and the witch hunts in Tempe were simple enough that they didn’t require her insight.

McClart understood what his subordinate was trying to say. His men always resented the way McClart was treated as some sort of Great Witch’s Keeper. Even if he personally ignored such taunts, those around him found it difficult to do the same.

The priests, in particular, who were involved in political intrigues, were keen to perpetuate this image, which only fuelled resentment in the ranks.

“The full extent of the Great Witch’s powers hasn’t been confirmed. We can’t send her away without knowing her true nature.”

“Surely, you could handle her if it came to that…”

“If we send them out without being completely sure of her abilities and problems arise, who will bear the blame?”

At McClart’s reprimand, his subordinate fell silent and the two stepped out of the cell. The castle was abuzz with noise and excitement as soldiers and knights returned from the witch hunt.