Left hook, left hook, right hook, right hook—another knockout!
The figures did nothing but topple down like a row of dominoes as Yevdokiya was thoroughly beating one of them before jumping toward the next.
For the first time, Nuriel heard the distinct laugh of a witch emanating from the rampaging girl.
Nuriel was in a state of confusion and fear, but this was a good thing. Yevdokiya's blasphemous statement from before proved one thing clearly.
'She despises the witch!'
But there wasn't any time for Nuriel to think about why she hated her god. After the last figure was put down, she locked eyes with Nuriel's poking face.
'Crap.'
Yevdokiya charged toward his position, her eyes burning with a passion for hand-to-hand combat.
However, that wasn't the only thing Nuriel was worried about. The moment Yevdokiya got closer, the scepter that had been pulling on his hand grew stronger and stronger.
Eventually, Nuriel lost the tug of war. His body was dragged across the circular pillar. Before he knew it, he was already stumbling toward her, trying in vain to resist the pull.
He locked eyes with her once more, noticing that she was unfazed by this strange figure in her dream who was stumbling about like a one-legged person without a crutch.
Brace for impact.
"Mmmppf." Nuriel wretched as a tiny fist impacted his stomach.
The dream realm turned blurry and upside down for him. Since it all happened so suddenly, he didn't think to imagine himself immune to pain. Even now, he was too distracted by the sensation.
It felt like his intestines were pulled out, tied into knots, then shoved back inside.
How could such a tiny body carry so much force? Nuriel couldn't wrap his head around it. It was impossible.
But this was Yevdokiya's dream.
No matter how much Nuriel interfered or spied around the dream realm, he had no power over the dreamer.
In fact, Nuriel was thankful she didn't dream of holding a gun or a sword.
Yevdokiya, despite laughing maniacally, performed a brutal kick to Nuriel's shin, sending him down into the sharp blades of grass under the pretty moonlight.
Although, there wasn't much of a moon anymore—it was blocked by her head. He saw two pairs of yellow eyes glowing beneath the shadow.
"Screw you!" she screamed, delivering a fist that grew larger and larger in Nuriel's vision.
He focused so much on the pain that he didn't notice the scepter in his hand had stopped pulling.
After a series of pummeling and maniacal laughter, Nuriel let the Witch's Scepter slip from his grip.
The moment it touched the ground, it sparkled and glowed before evaporating into nothingness, its remaining sparks floating higher into the sky, the moonlight reflecting on them, making brilliant starlight.
Unfortunately, Nuriel's vision was already drenched in a crimson filter. After everything turned pure red, the pain stopped coming.
Yevdokiya stood over him in a tired motion. She panted heavy breaths as she positioned her arms as if holding a rifle.
Nuriel couldn't tell, but a rifle had just spawned out of nowhere.
She took aim.
He could barely hear Yevdokiya's voice through his blood-covered ears, but he caught the quivering in her tone, as if she were holding back tears.
"Die... bitch."
In that same instant, Nuriel regained his composure and immediately imagined himself unable to feel pain—right before he heard the loud bang.
Regaining his vision, he stumbled backward and fell, landing on his butt on a floor made of nothing.
He was back in the throne room.
Nuriel grasped his forehead, checking to see if it was still intact, just to be sure.
After confirming that his brains were still in place, he turned his attention to the screen displayed in front of him.
[Scepter integrated successfully]
The screen faded before Nuriel spotted something descending right in front of him, slowly making its way down before halting in mid air.
It was the rusted metallic scepter of the witch, although with a bit less rust compared to before.
[Tainted Scepter Fragment of ??? has been reformed to the scepter fragment of the blessed Desacares]
[Scepter fragment of the blessed Desacares]
[Class: Saint]
Her Excellency. Her Emissary. The Shield of the Faithful.
[New Scepter detected! Applying new hardware]
[Status]
[Processing speed increased]
[Connection strength with other scepters has been increased]
Nuriel recognized the name Desacares from the dream earlier, the first appointed saint of the Steel Witch.
'To think Desacares also wielded a scepter' Nuriel exclaimed in thought, then proceeded to grab hold of the new scepter and walk back to the throne.
Before he could come any closer, Nuriel immediately noticed a bright string across the front of his chair. Its color was something akin to aquamarine, a vibrant blue like the clear skies.
Nuriel chuckled at the sight. He had a hunch who it belonged to, but he drifted into thought, coming up with different ways to describe colors instead of likening them to rocks or metals.
He sat down on the cushioned throne, the soft mat pressing against his rear and back far more relieving than touching grass. This was how humans were meant to sit.
Letting the Saint's scepter float freely with the rest, Nuriel pressed forward and touched the aquamarine string. Almost immediately, and unlike when he touched the thin and faint one, he felt emotions so deep they nearly reached his soul.
'This is Yevdokiya's string'
After confirming it, he continued holding a tight grip on the string, taking in more of the emotions.
If the emotions he felt were real, then it must have been what the dreamer was feeling at the moment. After a few seconds, he released his grip and slumped back on his throne.
He remembered her quivering voice.
'I'll leave her be for now'
He had already somewhat accomplished what he wanted, albeit perhaps maybe probably unwillingly gave her the scepter fragment.
Nuriel frowned and sighed a tired breath. He could only hope it was worth it.
After a while of resting, he jumped back into thought. First, he had to figure out why the witch's scepter had morphed into the scepter of the saint. Then he needed to learn what the true condition was that gave strings their respective and unique colors, aside from the white of normal people.
Yushin had a scepter, and his string was silver. Before receiving the scepter, Yevdokiya's string was faint and almost colorless. Now it was aquamarine. Vivienne's was gold. If she had a scepter, it was undetectable. But Nuriel's best estimate was that she didn't have one.
He asked the first question again—why the witch's scepter morphed into a different form—but asking the scepter system yielded no results. He asked the second one again, and just like before, there were no results.
'I still have no idea what's going on'
The questions piled up in his mind to the point that he almost wished he hadn't invented the scepter system in the first place. A creator that couldn't understand its creation is no creator!
He grumbled under his breath but stopped when he saw a string streaking across.
It was Vivienne.
Although he didn't notice it, his face immediately lit up in joy at the sight of that golden string.