Lord: I have built a witch's sanctuary.

Chapter 97 What if all cruelty was actually gentleness?

Chapter 96 What if all cruelty were gentleness?

Royal capital, royal palace, Prince Thursmir's inner sanctuary.

Deep blue flames burned in the fireplace of the prince's inner palace, their light reflecting off the reliefs on the dome. The faces of the gods, sculpted by the artisans, appeared sometimes merciful and sometimes ferocious in the flickering light.

The palace doors were pushed open from the outside, and a middle-aged man in a dark gray robe walked in steadily. His face was angular, with high cheekbones, and his deep-set eyes held a shrewd and fanatical light.

Loken stopped three steps away from the prince's throne, knelt on one knee, placed his right hand on his chest, and performed a standard greeting.

Get up.

The young man sitting in the purple-gold armchair raised a finger, speaking casually as if he were calling a cat.

Prince Thursmeer looked far too young; his smooth face showed no signs of age.

His long, dark gray hair was loosely tied back, and only the occasional cold glint in the depths of his light golden eyes made one realize that this prince was not as harmless as he appeared.

Loken stood up, took out a neatly folded piece of parchment from his sleeve, and presented it to the prince with both hands.

"Your Highness, as of today, fifteen of the thirty-one earls in our kingdom have completed the replacement process."

"Our plan to use doubles to turn the counts into puppets went very smoothly."

Thursmir didn't take the parchment. His gaze went over Loken's shoulder and landed on the blue flames churning in the fireplace, a slow smile curving his lips.

"Fifteen now."

He repeated the number in a low voice, his tone carrying a sense of satisfaction, like savoring fine wine.

Loken respectfully placed the parchment on the table, took a half step back, and began to report: "The situation in the east is a bit more complicated. The old count of Laurel Territory has a fourth-order witch as his advisor. The substitute was almost exposed during the contact, but in the end, he managed to deceive the other party by perfectly replicating the transformation technique."

Thursmir narrowed his eyes slightly, his fingers rhythmically tapping the metal edge of the armchair.

"What was that witch's name?"

"Isabel, a fourth-order Star Witch, has a nearly forty-year-long contractual relationship with the old count."

Loken's tone was calm. "However, Your Highness need not worry. The substitute has already found a batch of aged Frostmoon wine in the old Earl's private wine cellar. That witch loves this wine, and the substitute used this opportunity to successfully get closer to her. He has now completely gained her trust."

"To win her over with a woman's favorite drink?" Thursmir chuckled. "You've thought of all those details."

"This is my duty." Loken bowed slightly, his tone carrying just the right amount of humility. "Before each stand-in is sent out, they undergo at least three months of specialized training, learning the target earl's speech and behavior, personal quirks, social network, and even whether they use their left or right hand to review documents is recorded."

"Except for one of your offspring, who has encountered a slight accident and may be killed by the person he is replacing, but that doesn't matter. I have taken back his transformation technique and controlled his mouth with a secret method, so he cannot reveal even a trace of information about you."

"The fact that one count's territory is not replaced will not affect the overall situation; our plan is foolproof."

Thursmir finally turned his gaze from the fireplace to his trusted aide standing before him.

This man has been with him for twenty-three years.

From a skinny boy he bought from the slave market to the core executor who now oversees the kingdom’s largest intelligence network and Stand program, Loken’s growth trajectory is one of Thursmir’s proudest creations.

"Fifteen," the prince said again, this time with a thoughtful tone. "Ten short of twenty-five. Is there still enough time?"

Loken had anticipated the prince's question, and his answer was swift and decisive.

"The sixteenth stand-in arrived in Rose Territory in the south three days ago and is expected to be replaced by the end of this month. Preparations for the seventeenth to twentieth stand-ins are also underway. If all goes well, we can take over five to seven more earls within six months."

"Six months." Thursmir pressed his fingertips to his temples. "The next vote in the Kingdom Council is in eight months."

"Your Highness understands what I mean." Loken lowered his voice a few decibels. "So, among the remaining fifteen counts that have not yet been replaced, I have selected the easiest targets to deal with. I will prioritize those counts whose lords are old, whose heirs are mediocre, or who have conflicts with other nobles, in order to achieve the fastest progress with the least cost."

The prince was silent for a moment, then stopped tapping.

The blue flames in the fireplace crackled softly, exceptionally clear in the quiet hall.

"Rocan".

"Your subordinate is here."

Do you think what we're doing, our plans, are the right thing to do?

The question came suddenly, but Roken's expression didn't change; he was clearly not being asked this question for the first time.

"Your Highness," he straightened up, his fervor in his eyes no longer concealed, "this is not a question of right or wrong, this is a question of salvation or destruction."

Thursmir did not interrupt him.

Loken took a step forward, his voice becoming deep and fervent.

"Every time a moment of upheaval arrives, how many people die at the hands of monsters? Every year, how many magic crystals does the kingdom consume, and how many witches and knights are sacrificed, just to barely maintain those fragile defenses?"

Your Highness, this agonizing existence has gone on for far too long.

"Humans are like a bunch of rats hiding in a cardboard house when faced with unpredictable changes, and can only pray that their cardboard house is strong enough when each storm comes."

"But Your Highness's plans are different."

Loken's eyes lit up, a light that wasn't acted, but a burning faith from his very bones. "Your Highness's plan is to solve the problem at its root, so that the Moment of Upheaval can no longer harm humanity, and that those demons will never again raise their swords against us."

Sersmir watched Loken's expression, the curve of his lips deepening.

"You're right." He slowly stood up and walked to the fireplace, the blue flames casting a long shadow on the marble floor behind him. "But you know, this plan, this scheme, comes at a price."

Loken paused for a moment.

Of course he knew.

That price was the only part that made him remain silent for a long time when he first heard the whole plan.

"The price—" Loken carefully chose his words, "is indeed there, but Your Highness, I have thought about it countless times. If the price is to free humanity from the threat of the Moment of Ecstasy forever, and to ensure that no one ever dies from the attacks of monsters again, then the price is worth it."

Even if no one understands? Even if I betrayed Catherine, who once risked her life for me, for this plan?

Thursmir turned around, his golden pupils taking on an eerie emerald green in the blue firelight. "Even if that day comes, will they hate us?"

"They will," Loken answered without hesitation. "Before they understand, they will hate us, call us madmen, traitors, and sinners against all mankind."

"But—" He paused, then gave an almost pious smile.

"But—when they no longer have to tremble and hide in the basement every time a strange event occurs, when their children are no longer snatched from their mothers' arms and torn apart by monsters, when that time comes, they will finally understand that everything His Highness has done is for them."

Thursmir looked at Loken's face, which was flushed with excitement, and smiled gently.

The smile appeared warm and sincere in the firelight of the fireplace, but deep within his golden eyes, something far more profound was slowly flowing, like an undercurrent at the bottom of the deep sea, an indescribable power surging beneath the calm surface.

"You always know how to say what I want to hear."

"Because what I said is true." Loken lowered his head again. "Your Highness, I am proud of you. It is the greatest fortune of my life to be able to participate in such a great undertaking."

"My contribution is insignificant; true greatness belongs to Your Highness alone."

Thursmir waved his hand, walked back to his armchair, sat down, and casually picked up the parchment on the table, unfolded it, and glanced at it.

The page was densely covered with names, territory numbers, replacement dates, and execution statuses, each line written as neatly as if it were printed.

"What is the progress of intelligence gathering on targets number twenty-one through twenty-five?"

Loken immediately switched back to a businesslike tone.

"The intelligence on the three southern territories is basically complete, and the training of the substitutes has entered the final stage. However, there are some variables in the two western territories—the Earl of Rock Territory recently hired a Four Knight of unknown origin as his personal bodyguard, which increases the risk of the replacement operation. My subordinates are trying to find a way to investigate the background and weaknesses of that knight."

"And then there's Twilight Territory." Loken's tone turned somber. "The Earl of Twilight Territory is one of the few lords with close ties to the Church. A Order of Inquisition Knights of the Church is permanently stationed in his territory. It would be difficult for a double to remain hidden for long under such intense surveillance."

Thursmir scratched the words "Twilight Collar" on the parchment with his fingernail, making a soft scraping sound.

"What's going on at the church?"

"Not yet, they don't seem to have noticed anything unusual."

Loken answered cautiously, "But I don't recommend being careless. Although the Church's intelligence network is not as deep as ours, they are naturally more vigilant about abilities like 'Transformation.' If they discover even a single flaw in a Stand—"

"The whole game will collapse," Thursmir finished the sentence for him.

Loken nodded without refuting.

Silence fell once again in the hall.

The blue fireplace flames suddenly flickered, as if a gust of wind had blown in from some unseen crack.

Thursmir's gaze fell on a silver goblet in the corner of the table, half-filled with deep purple liquid, the surface of which gleamed with a dark red luster in the firelight.

"Twenty-five," he said softly, as if confirming to himself, "As long as I control the voting rights of twenty-five earls, the council of nobles will pass my purification bill."

"By then, everything will be irreversible."

Loken lowered his eyes, his lips moving slightly as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just lowered his head even further.

Thursmir picked up the silver cup and drank the remaining wine in one gulp.

The deep purple liquid slid down his pale Adam's apple, its color so dark in the blue light of the fireplace that it looked almost like congealed blood.

"Keep pushing forward." The prince placed the empty glass upside down on the table, his voice regaining its usual nonchalance. "By the end of next year, I want to see the names of at least twenty-five earls on this paper."

"Your subordinate obeys."

Loken bowed again and turned to walk towards the palace gate.

His steps were steady, his back straight, and the hem of his gray robe trailed softly on the marble floor.

Just as he was about to cross the threshold, Thursmir's voice came from behind him.

"Rocan".

"Your Highness."

"Were the Counts who were replaced dealt with cleanly?"

Loken paused for a moment.

"They are all being held in the dungeons beneath the palace, as His Highness has instructed. They are under magical control and cut off from all communication. No one knows their whereabouts."

"Alive?"

“Alive,” Loken replied. “His Highness said that once the plan succeeds, they will understand that all of this was a necessary sacrifice, and at that time, His Highness will personally release them.”

Thursmir did not speak again.

Loken waited three seconds, and after confirming that the prince had no further instructions, he slowly walked out of the palace gate.

The heavy oak door slowly closed behind him, shutting out the blue firelight in the fireplace and the figure of the silver-haired prince.

The corridor was quiet, with only the echo of Loken's own footsteps.

He stepped out of the palace gates and stood on the terrace at the edge of the cliff. The night wind rushed into his collar, making his gray robe flutter loudly.

The city lights below were blazing, and tens of thousands of people lived and slept in those densely packed houses.

dream.

They were unaware that their fate was about to be rewritten.

Unbeknownst to them, a plan capable of overturning the very existence of their race was being driven, accelerated, and was about to become an irreversible reality in the royal palace above them, propelled by a silver-haired young man.

Loken took a deep breath of the cold night wind, feeling the chill stinging his lungs.

He closed his eyes.

Images flashed through my mind: civilians torn apart by monsters when the moment of cataclysm arrived, children howling in the ruins, and mothers who shielded their children with their bodies but were easily torn apart.

His mother.

Those scenes were ones he had witnessed when he was a child.

It's something he still dreams about every night.

"It's worth it."

He whispered those two words, as if trying to convince himself, or as if making a promise to someone.

Then he wrapped his robe tighter, turned and disappeared down the stone steps leading to the lower city of the capital.