Chapter 53: The Fall of Windsor

In the royal city, a flash of gray darted across the walls and rooftops, leaping from eaves to tiles.

Her movements were exceptionally agile, as silent and untraceable as a loosed arrow—so much so that not even the birds perched on the rooftops noticed her passing.

She followed the dragon carriage along the street, which halted before the castle gates.

The gray figure also came to a stop atop the clock tower, and only then could her appearance be seen clearly…

It was Windsor.

At this moment, she had taken on her cat demon form, a silvery dagger clamped between her teeth, eyes icy cold and brimming with murderous intent.

A chill wind swept past the eaves.

She released the dagger from her mouth, letting it fall into her palm, her body lowering in a predatory crouch—the very stance a feline adopts when hunting prey.

After the dragon carriage came to a stop, the carriage door opened.

A beautiful figure clad in white stepped out.

The sight seemed somewhat familiar, but Windsor spared no further thought; she remained poised atop the roof, eyes locked on the scene below, waiting for her true target to appear.

When a tall man emerged from the carriage, the killing intent in Windsor’s eyes surged.

She raised the dagger before her eyes.

Though frail, her gaze was so filled with malice that it would chill anyone to the bone.

“Don’t blame me… This is all for my Lord Chieftain.”

With those few words, she sprang from the top of the clock tower, plunging toward the man below.

The silver dagger reflected the dazzling sunlight, and in its gleaming blade shone Windsor’s eyes, more piercing than the sun itself, though now tinged with exhaustion…

It would all end soon…

This life of hers, ruled by pain—just being able to meet the Lord Chieftain had been enough.

She was too tired.

After leaving Mòzhī’s side, every single moment had been a struggle to keep going.

Without Mòzhī, it was as if her very strength had been drained away, and even sighing required all her remaining energy.

As the blade pierced her body and the searing pain shot to her mind, she didn’t feel suffering—only fatigue, endless fatigue.

Her only wish was to nestle against that beautiful, ink-black silhouette once more, nothing more.

But it didn’t matter anymore.

Soon, she would return to her side, even if it meant existing as something even more tormented…

Windsor was already above the man’s head, swinging the dagger down to stab him with all her might.

But just as the dagger was about to touch the man’s head, a biting cold suddenly surged from the dagger’s tip, rushing up Windsor’s arm and spreading through her entire body.

In an instant, her body went numb. Windsor desperately tried to drive the dagger home, but as it finally touched the man’s head, it instantly shattered into icy fragments, and her arm was reduced to powder.

Failed… everything… failed…

Thud!

With a sickening crack of breaking bones, Windsor crashed straight to the ground.

White petals on the ground were swept up by the wind, falling one by one into the pool of scalding blood pouring from Windsor.

The sacred white was stained crimson, clinging to her face, which was written all over with exhaustion…

“Protect the Holy Lord!!”

Ranks of guards surrounded Windsor where she lay, but by now she was already broken, unable to move in the slightest.

Blood and brain matter oozed from her skull, and through her blurring vision, she seemed to finally see Mòzhī’s face, disappointment clear upon it…

“Sor…ry, Lord… Chieftain… I’m sorry.”

Her pupils dilated, and Windsor’s heartbeat stopped for good.

“Overestimating herself.”

The man didn’t even glance at the corpse.

He straightened his somewhat mussed hair and walked toward the castle.

The woman known as the Saintess, however, kept staring at the body, unable to leave.

“I gave you a chance… but you insisted on being a fool.”

It wasn’t until the guards dragged Windsor’s corpse away that the Saintess turned to follow the man into the castle.

***

“Hmm? Something seems to be happening over there?”

In the sky, the Witch had just landed on the ground with Mòzhī when the commotion from the crowd ahead caught their attention.

Something seemed to have happened by the castle.

Many people were running that way, as if to watch the spectacle.

“Hey, what’s going on over there?”

“Heard someone died up ahead, let’s go take a look!”

Snatches of conversation from passersby reached Mòzhī and the Witch’s ears.

They glanced at each other, then looked together in that direction.

Mòzhī felt a growing sense of foreboding.

A terrifying suspicion flashed through her mind.

She shook her head forcefully and, pretending to be calm, said to the Witch, “How about… we go check it out too?”

The Witch didn’t even hesitate.

Though she loved a lively scene (really, all Witches love a lively scene), her stomach had long since started growling with hunger, and most of her mana was depleted.

At that moment, all she wanted was to find a place to rest and get some food to restore her energy.

“Just someone dead, it’s nothing new. Let’s get something to eat first, after all, we’ve been hungry a whole day and night.”

“That’s… true, I suppose.”

Whether from fear or hoping for a stroke of luck, Mòzhī turned her head away from the scene, actually feeling a little relief.

“Heard the one who died was a demon!”

Suddenly, another shout reached her ears.

At the word ‘demon’, Mòzhī’s heart nearly skipped a beat.

Demon… Windsor!!

She spun around at once and dashed toward that direction at the fastest speed she’d ever managed.

“Hey, wait…”

Before the Witch could finish, Mòzhī had already vanished into the crowd.

Gurgle~

Her stomach rumbled again.

She looked from the direction of the crowd to the distant bakery, torn between the two options.

“Ah, honestly!”

In the end, she chose to chase after Mòzhī.

After all, if her identity was exposed, she’d be in trouble too.

The castle gate was blocked tight by a sea of people.

The crowd was abuzz with discussion—some just took one look and ran away in fright, others had even thrown up already.

Mòzhī leaped onto the heads of the crowd and ran right over them.

From a distance, she saw a long trail of blood on the ground, streaked with pale yellow fluid of unknown origin.

Guards stood around the area, weapons drawn, faces grim and intimidating.

Her heart beat faster and faster, her sense of dread deepening.

She ran forward, leaping straight to the very front.

And at that moment, she saw a guard dragging a gray figure along the ground.

Only the hair was visible, but those locks were so, so familiar to Mòzhī…

Her eyes widened, and her breath seemed to stop.

“Windsor!!”

She vaulted past the guards, rushing toward Windsor.

The heavily armored guards, seeing her, quickly raised their weapons to block Mòzhī’s path.

Seeing her dressed in full Lolita attire, they immediately assumed she was some noble lady and politely said, “Miss, you may not enter here freely. Please turn back at once.”

At this moment, Mòzhī heard nothing else.

Staring at those blocking her path, she bared her fangs and claws, swinging a fist that sent the orderly ranks of guards flying.

“Give Windsor back to me!!”