Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

Wayne lowered his head and looked at him.

"Collusion?"

He smiled.

"So what if you colluded? Don't you know you won't live past tonight, Gleevec?"

Gleeve's pupils dilated suddenly.

His lips began to tremble, and he sprang to his feet, staggering back two steps. He held out his hand, pointing at Wayne, his fingers shaking violently.

"No, no, no... You can't kill me... I'm a missionary from St. Hilde... You can't kill me... If you kill me, you'll die too..."

Wayne took a step forward.

"Oh?"

Greve took another step back, his heel hitting the step, and he fell backward, landing on the stone steps.

"You, you stay away..."

His voice was trembling.

"St. Hilde will not let you go... The Crusaders will not let you go... They will tie you to the stake and burn you alive... They will skin you and hang your skin at the church entrance... If you kill me, you will not live either!"

He spoke faster and faster, more and more urgently.

"The Holy See of St. Hilde, the head of the Papacy! You killed me, and St. Hilde will not let you get away with it! The 30,000 Crusader warriors will raze Frosttown to the ground! They will raze the Church of Wiggins to the ground! You will die! You will die!"

Wayne lowered his head and looked at Greve.

"Oh?"

Greve lay on the ground, raised his head, tears still streaming down his face, but a glimmer of light appeared in his eyes. He thought his words had worked, that Wayne was hesitating, that there was still room for negotiation.

"Yes, yes, if you don't kill me, I won't tell anyone. I didn't see or hear anything today. Let me go, and I'll leave Frost Town immediately and never come back for the rest of my life."

Greve got up from the ground and knelt in front of Wayne, his hands braced on the stone pavement. His knees were scraped and bleeding, but he didn't care.

"Bishop Wayne, please spare my life. I don't want to die. I have an elderly mother, three children, and a newlywed wife at home. They are all waiting for me to return."

He was crying so hard he could barely breathe.

"I can't die here... I can't die here..."

Wayne looked at him without saying a word.

The panel popped up at this point.

Gleevec's List of Sins

[Position: Clerk, Foreign Affairs Department, Holy See of St. Hilde.]

[His true role: The accountant for the missionary team, and also the "performance" manager. His main job wasn't missionary work, but bookkeeping. He recorded the whereabouts of every bottle of enchanting potion, the gender, age, and address of every villager who was given the potion, and the number of every "witch" who was burned to death.]

[Criminal Record: Over the past seventeen years, he has documented a total of forty-eight "artificial witches." Among them were thirty-one adult women, twelve underage women, and five men. The youngest was six years old, and the oldest was seventy-three. Their numbers, addresses, dates of drug administration, and dates of execution were all written clearly, page by page, in a black-covered ledger he hid under his hotel bed.]

[Witch Murder Record: In addition to 48 "artificial witches," he also participated in the capture and execution of eight real witches. Of these eight, three were kidnapped in their sleep, two were intercepted while on the run, one was reported by her own brother, and two were killed after surrendering themselves.]

[Note: Gleevec's mother died three years ago. He has no wife, no children. He says these things simply because he is afraid of death. He is so afraid of death that he can fabricate any lie, kneel down and lick anyone's shoe sole, and swear to a goddess that the moon is square. But lies cannot save him.]

After reading the last line, Wayne put the panel away.

He lowered his head and looked at Grevey kneeling on the ground.

"Didn't your mother pass away?"

Gleeve's crying sound got stuck in his throat; his pupils constricted sharply, his lips trembled, and he couldn't utter a word.

"Where's your wife?" Wayne's tone was calm, as if reciting scripture. "You've never even been married, so where did you get a wife? Where did you get children?"

Greve's face went from deathly pale to ashen.

"How...how did you know...?"

Wayne crouched down to look him in the eye.

"Gleeve, you can't fool me. The goddess has seen everything you've done."

Gleeve's body began to tremble violently, as if someone were pulling his bones out one by one.

"Bishop Vien...you...you hear me..."

"I won't kill them."

Gleeve thought he had misheard.

"What...what did you say?"

I said, I won't kill you.

Greve's eyes suddenly lit up.

He knelt forward two steps and reached out to grab the hem of Wayne's robe.

Wayne didn't dodge, so he let him grab him.

"Thank you... thank you... Bishop Wayne... thank you..."

Wayne stood up and looked down at him.

"Your life belongs to the Goddess. Whether you are guilty or not, and how you are punished, is up to the Goddess. I have presented the entire list of your sins to the Goddess in the form of holy light. She said that you will be bound to a cross and burned for three days and three nights to comfort the souls of the forty-eight innocent people you harmed."

Gleeve was utterly desperate.

Wayne straightened up and turned his head to look at Jenny.

"Take this person away."

"I will judge the sins of everyone who comes next, one by one."

Wayne's words carried through the night sky.

Babacar stepped down the stairs, the blood on his right fist dried and formed a dark red scab. He walked up to Wayne and stopped.

"Sir, we've captured four alive. One died in the fight." Babaka glanced at Christina. "That young lady killed him."

"Bring the body along too."

"Yes."

Babaka turned and walked toward the woodshed on the side of the inn.

Diaz stepped out from the crowd, his armor bearing several sword marks, but he was unharmed. He walked up to Wayne, his right fist pressed against his chest.

"Sir, everyone in the hotel is under control. Six missionaries have been arrested alive, four clerical staff, and five servants. Including those outside, there are a total of nineteen people."

"Did any of them escape?"

Diaz thought for a moment.

"No. I've set up three layers of sentries around the hotel; not even a mouse can get out."

A commotion suddenly broke out on the outskirts of the crowd.

"Make way, make way, let me in!"

The crowd parted to make a narrow path, and Wilford squeezed in from the outside, followed by Mimi. He staggered a couple of steps, steadied himself, and then placed his hands on his knees, panting heavily.

Mimi proactively reported the situation to Wayne.

"Sir, the wounded have been taken care of."

Wayne looked at her.

"How is the situation?"

Mimi reported the facts truthfully.

"They were given an emetic, and they vomited up most of the demon potion. However, a few of them are still unstable and under observation. Vera is taking care of them and asked me to come and report to you first."

"Understood." Wayne glanced at Wilford. "Mayor, have someone keep an eye on things at the church."

Wilford immediately nodded, turned around, and shouted towards the edge of the crowd, "Griffin! Griffin!"

Griffin pushed his way through the crowd, spear still clutched in his hand, helmet askew, armor plates loose, clattering as he ran. He reached Wilford, heel to heel, and stood at attention.

"Mayor!"

"Take a few men to the church and help guard the wounded. Don't let anyone approach, and don't let anyone cause trouble. Do you understand?"

"yes!"

Griffin turned around, waved to the guards behind him, and led his men toward the church.

Wilford turned around, looked at Wayne, took half a step forward, and lowered his voice by half an octave.

"Sir, should we burn all these people tonight?"

Wayne looked at Wilford.

The firelight danced on his face, alternating between light and shadow.

"I will make arrangements for this matter, but today we still need to select the truly guilty people."

Wilford breathed a sigh of relief.

"Everything can be arranged by the adults."