Witch Training Manual: My Water Magic Is Wrong

The torch slipped from Andrei's hand.

He stood still, without moving.

Gleeve's voice could no longer be heard.

It wasn't that they were tired; it was that they were gone.

Flames danced in his pupils.

He had nothing on his mind.

It wasn't calm, it was emptiness.

It's as if someone has wiped everything out of his mind—memories, emotions, beliefs, pride—nothing is left.

He suddenly remembered something.

He didn't know why he had come to Frost Town.

It wasn't for missionary work.

It wasn't to capture the witch.

It's not for the glory of St. Hilde.

Those are all excuses.

His true aim was a just trial.

However, he only realized it now.

Is trial not a crime in itself?

The panel popped up at this point.

[André Claire - Current Status]

[Status: On the verge of collapse.]

[His inner monologue: He suddenly wanted to drink. He had never drunk alcohol before; the scriptures of St. Hilde forbade clergy from drinking. But now he wanted to drink, really wanted to drink. He wanted to drink until he was completely drunk, until he remembered nothing, until he woke up tomorrow and found it was all a dream. But he knew it wasn't. Greve's body was still burning in the fire, the smell of burning flesh wafting over; he could smell it.]

[Note: For the first time, he began to doubt what he had been doing all these years. Hunting witches? How many of the witches he hunted were real? Of the forty-eight "artificial witches" in Greve's ledger, how many had he personally executed? He couldn't remember. Not that he had a bad memory, but his brain was automatically filtering things out. Some things, once understood, become unbearable.]

[Note 2: He wanted to cry, but couldn't. His tears had dried long ago. St. Hilde's training included a course called "emotional control," which required clergy to never show weakness under any circumstances. He learned it so well that he even fooled himself.]

[Also: He's starting to envy you. Not jealousy, but envy. Jealousy is wanting to take what the other person has from you; envy is knowing you can never have it.]

The fire began to subside in the second five minutes.

The flames had passed their peak; they had shrunk from the height of a treetop to about a person's height, and then from that height to waist level. The wood crackled and popped as it burned, and sparks were whipped up by the night wind, rising into the air, illuminating briefly before going out.

Wilford stood half a step behind Wayne, the firelight illuminating his face, revealing an unusually solemn expression.

He took a step forward.

"Take the rest of them away."

The guards moved. The cage doors were opened, and one by one, the white-robed missionaries were dragged out, their hands bound behind their backs, and lined up in a row. No one struggled, no one cried out.

Andrei walked at the very back.

His white robe was stained with dust, and his cuffs had several holes burned by sparks, but he was not injured.

Wilford walked over to Wayne.

He glanced at Andrei's retreating figure, then at the still-burning fire, and lowered his voice by half an octave.

"Sir, are we really going to lock them up for thirty days?"

Wayne's gaze fell on the fire.

"Once the kingdom issues its order regarding the relocation of the Millennium Purple Sun, we can release them around that time. Perhaps in less than thirty days."

Wilford's brow twitched.

"Does the master mean... to leave them until we move?"

Wayne glanced at him sideways.

"Yes. St. Hilde's mission suffered such a major incident in Frosttown, with many dead and injured. If we release them now, we can't control what they say when they go back. Once everyone joins the party, they won't be able to do anything to us."

The crowd began to disperse.

Wilford stood beside Wayne, his hands behind his back. He glanced at the fire, then at Wayne's profile, and finally spoke.

"grown ups."

"Um."

"Those people, the men of St. Hilde. Release them after thirty days. When they return to St. Hilde and tell them what happened here, the Crusaders will definitely send men. At that time, they will certainly focus their troubles on you."

He paused.

"Sir, are you really alright?"

Wayne didn't care at all.

"Don't worry, I relied on more than just luck."

Hearing what Wayne said, Wilford let out a long sigh of relief. His expression shifted from solemn to one of relieved excitement.

"Your Majesty Bishop."

Wayne looked at him.

"Um."

Wilford stepped forward, rubbing his hands together, his eyes gleaming. "My lord, tonight is the first time Frosttown has ever held its head high before St. Hilde. You must let me host the celebration; I've already had a feast prepared at the town's tavern, and the food is already on the table."

However, Wayne wasn't very interested this time.

"You guys go ahead, I won't go."

Wilford paused for a moment.

"My lord, you're not going? This victory celebration banquet is being held for you; what's the point if you don't attend?"

Wayne refused and made up an excuse.

"Today is a rest day for church staff, and alcohol is not permitted."

Although Wilford was the mayor, he didn't understand church rules and dared not offer any advice. If drinking on a day off was indeed forbidden in the canon, then his advice would be tantamount to dragging the bishop into breaking the precepts.

Wayne turned his head to look at Babacar and Jenny.

"You two, go in my place."

Babaka paused for a moment, then pointed to his nose.

"us?"

"Yes. You will attend the celebration banquet tonight on behalf of the church."

Jenny's eyes lit up instantly. He sprang out from behind Babacar, bent at a ninety-degree angle, and clasped his hands together above his head: "Your Excellency is wise! Long live Your Excellency! Your Excellency, rest assured, I, Jenny, will eat and drink well and will never disgrace the Church!"

Babaka's lips twitched.

He wanted to say, "I don't want to go either," but he swallowed the words back. He was someone who quite enjoyed being in a lively atmosphere. However, he seemed to have some aversion to drinking; it was as if he was missing a part of his memory.

Wilford was also very enthusiastic.

He looked at Babacar and Jenny.

"This way, please, gentlemen!"

Then Wilford politely looked at Mimi on the other side.

"This beautiful lady, you..."

"I'm not going!"

Wilf gave an awkward smile and then left.

Wayne looked at Mimi beside him.

"Actually, you can come along too."

Mimi stood half a step behind him.

She shook her head.

"I'm not going."

"What? Don't you like crowds?"

"No." Mimi turned her gaze away from Babacar and Jenny's retreating figures. "Those two idiots can go. I think it's better if you go with me."

After saying that, Mimi blushed.

In the end, only Mimi went back to church with Wayne.

Mimi stood a step beside him.

"grown ups."

"Um."

"Are you sure it's okay if you don't bring the two little ones?" Her voice was soft, with a cautious, tentative tone. "They waited all day at the church, wanting to come with you. You promised them, but then..."

"I've changed my mind again." Wayne's tone remained unchanged, and he didn't stop walking. "That kind of scene isn't suitable for them."

Mimi thought about it and agreed. Burning at the stake, wailing, and the smell of burning food were indeed unsuitable for two little girls to watch.

"But you promised them."

"Promises can be changed."

Wayne continued to add.

"We'll give them a reward when we get back."

Mimi asked curiously.

"What reward?"

Wayne smiled and looked at Mimi.

"Sleep with me? What? You want to come too?"

Mimi's face turned even redder.