Hel pondered for a moment before finally asking, somewhat hesitantly:
"Um… Lord Pestis, may I ask — is the Church truly not going to rescue Lady Nikki?"
At those words, a flicker of something — perhaps sorrow, perhaps memory — passed through Pestis's expression. But she quickly shook her head, her face returning to its usual blank calm.
"She cannot be saved. No one can."
"Nikki's death is inevitable. When someone wants her dead, then she must die."
"These matters are far beyond you. For now, all you need to decide is whether or not you'll accept the ritual."
"Nikki will… die?"
The moment Hel heard that, she felt the faint, cold scent of a conspiracy.
Logically speaking, even if Nikki had challenged the Death Witch in a blood duel for succession, her fate would likely have been to end up as the witch's silken familiar.
But from Pestis's tone, it sounded as if Nikki's death was predestined — unavoidable.
Could it be that from the very moment Nikki appeared, there had already been forces watching her, waiting to use her — a sweetly coated poison — as bait, to feed directly into someone else's mouth?
Didn't they fear that she — Hel — might simply kill Nikki instead?
Or perhaps… even if Nikki were slain, the two of them would still be bound together — through that lingering psychic corruption born from Nikki's very soul — something that might even grow stronger?
Hel's true body rubbed at her temples in frustration.
These ancient schemers — creatures who had lived for who knew how many centuries — each one was more twisted and cunning than the last. And she? A newly adult transmigrant of barely a few months — to them she must look like a clueless fawn wandering into a den of wolves.
"So… could this Witch of Disease be one of those same old monsters too?"
With that thought, Hel grew even more cautious during their conversation.
After agreeing to take part in the ritual, she refrained from asking further questions. She did not linger in the palace; instead, she left as quickly as she could.
At the palace gate, Pestis watched Hel's retreating figure. A trace of complexity flickered deep in her eyes.
"What an extraordinary little thing… That sense of being watched — it wasn't divine. So whose pawn are you, I wonder?"
Her gaze darkened, thoughtful, but at last she sighed softly.
"Forget it. It doesn't matter. I just need to complete my task. No need to invite unnecessary trouble."
——
Meanwhile, after leaving Pestis's palace, Hel began planning her next move.
Someone like Pestis — an ancient powerhouse — was not someone whose secrets could be easily pried out. Even trying to extract information from her directly would be suicidal.
And she had no close subordinates either — which meant manipulating others to question her on Hel's behalf was also impractical.
That left only one option: the old method.
If she couldn't control the powerful, she could still control the ordinary. Pestis and her ilk were mighty, yes, but they couldn't possibly handle every matter personally. Somewhere among the lower ranks, there had to be individuals who knew something.
So, in the days that followed, Hel settled into a strict routine between the Royal Palace and the Church.
Each morning, she would visit Pestis's palace to drink a vial of witch blood. Then, for the rest of the day, she would quietly ambush isolated Church members.
She had already spread swarms of necrotic insects throughout the entire royal capital —watching, listening, tracking every flicker of movement.
Thanks to that, her covert operations proceeded remarkably smoothly.
Anyone below Saint-tier was helpless before her Shadow Knights —one strike from the shadows, and the target would be instantly subdued, their memories rewritten, their thoughts implanted with new "entries."
It was a perfect one-stop conversion process — swift, silent, and efficient.
Now, in a small decrepit side hall of the Aira royal complex, Hel sat at a desk, scribbling in a notebook.
The place had once been a minor palace — old, unused, and just shabby enough to fit her cover identity as an illegitimate daughter.
"Ten sixth-tier powerhouses of the royal court, forty-two at fifth-tier — all under my control. Over three thousand fourth-tier elites from both Church and Crown — most are mine as well."
Hel marked several names with a quill, then frowned at the page.
"Yet none of them have ever seen the Beast Witch. None have any idea where she is."
She exhaled slowly.
"Seems like only those of truly high rank have access to such information. Nikki knew about her only because she was one of the Seven Kings — and part of the plan herself."
"As for the others…"
She crossed out nearly all the names in her notebook until only two remained:
The Witch of Disease Pestis, and the High Archbishop of the Holy Tribunal.
These were the only two Saint-tier beings currently stationed in the royal court.
Whether there were hidden Saints, she couldn't be sure —but at least she knew that all who had contact with the outside world were already accounted for.
"To learn something this secret, I'll need weight — and the Saints have that weight. But they won't be easy to deal with."
Pestis's power was unfathomable. Which left only one viable option — the "softer" target.
"But how to act…"
Hel tapped her chin thoughtfully.
She had eyes and ears across the royal court — but setting up a full interference barrier was too risky. A large-scale barrier would alert Pestis instantly.
And to make things worse, she wasn't even sure she could take down the Archbishop cleanly. If her strike caused too much commotion, Pestis would certainly notice.
"Ugh… What a pain."
She rubbed her head.
"I've searched every corner of this royal court — even Pestis's palace. Don't tell me the Beast Witch has already left? Or has Pestis simply decided not to spread the plague after all?"
That thought made her temples throb.
Was her only path left to strike at one of the Saints directly?
"If I must, I'll have to separate them first. My time's running out — the Hurricane Witch, Gail, is on her way here, escorting two Saints and seven captive witches. Once they return to the royal court, it'll be even harder to move."
"So… I need a trap. Something to draw one of them out."
"Pestis's focus is on grooming me as Nikki's successor — so she's unlikely to leave. That leaves only the Archbishop."
"He'll be easier to lure out, sure — but how to strike… and where?"
Hel ruffled her messy hair, grabbed the large map spread across her desk, and began to plot — quietly, methodically — her next move.