Kabala awoke to find her arm wrapped in thick gauze. The pain still lingered, but it was negligible compared to the initial sensation of being sprayed by the red mist.

This surprised her somewhat.

The wound on her arm wasn't life-threatening, so in theory, it wouldn't be treated first. It wouldn't be strange to leave it until last or simply wait for it to heal on its own. After all, the abilities and importance of the little angels were repeatedly emphasized to every new recruit. She didn't think the Sandpeople would be treated specially—if anything, they were more likely to be treated badly.

But if it wasn't due to an ability, how could the wound have healed so quickly?

Could it be...

A sense of unease suddenly arose in her heart.

Perhaps she should leave here as soon as possible and return to the military camp.

"Fara, right?" A nurse noticed her movement and glanced at the name tag hanging on the bed. "How are you feeling now?"

"I'm fine, I can return to my unit at any time." She turned over and got out of bed, feigning reluctance. "Several of my comrades died at the hands of the devils, and I want them to pay the price immediately!"

"Please accept my condolences." The nurse nodded. "But before that, you need to go to the camp headquarters. Nana Wawa Pine wants to see you."

Kabala was slightly startled. "She... wants to see me? But my injury is almost—"

"I don't know the reason, but she specifically requested it." The nurse smiled. "Other soldiers can't even get a chance to see her. Come with me."

Kabala looked at the nurse's unguarded back, hesitated for a moment, and then followed her.

After passing through layers of checkpoints, she met the legendary angel in a tent.

Judging by her appearance alone, she certainly matched the image circulating in the First Army: petite and cute, with fair and rosy skin, and eyes that didn't seem to have completely lost their childishness. She was clearly a young lady from a noble family, the epitome of someone who had never experienced hardship. Kabala couldn't help but feel a little relieved, perhaps things weren't as bad as she had imagined.

"Um... is there something you need from me?"

Unfortunately, the first thing the other person said shattered all her illusions.

"I'm curious, you're clearly a witch, so why are you hiding your identity and joining the First Army like an ordinary person?"

"I... I don't understand..." Kabala replied, forcing herself to remain calm. Juda had indeed reported this to the higher-ups...

"Your injury." Nana Wawa pointed to her arm. "Although there are many cuts, most of them were caused by sharp weapons. The devil's claws can't do that, so I think it must be a dagger or bayonet-like weapon. Also, I found traces of red mist corrosion when cleaning the wound—it will penetrate the muscles of the lower layer of the skin, and even reach the bones. Only witches will suffer this kind of damage. Even if you deliberately damaged the wound, this point cannot be faked."

Kabala closed her mouth.

The other party hadn't heard the news from Juda, and her reasoning was clear and logical, leaving her no room to argue. She had previously thought that the other party was innocent and naive, and that she might be able to deceive her with words or by playing dumb, but now it seemed like a ridiculous plan.

After a while, she said in a low voice, "Have you seen a witch corroded by the red mist?"

Nana Wawa pouted. "Myself."

Kabala was stunned.

"Everyone says that the red mist causes extremely serious damage to witches, but no one knows the specific treatment methods, so I had to experiment myself." The young girl said with a calm expression, "If a sister is injured by the red mist and I can't do anything about it, wouldn't I regret it for the rest of my life?" She paused. "Fortunately, as long as you don't inhale a large amount of red mist, or get sprayed in a vital area like the head, you can be rescued in a short period of time. So remember, the safest thing to do next time you encounter this situation is to cut off your arm immediately."

Kabala was dumbfounded. She still couldn't forget how intense the pain was when she was eroded by the red mist. Once you've experienced it, you'd never want to try it a second time, but the other party's tone made it sound like she had repeated it several times. Yet, when she said this, Nana Wawa's expression didn't change much, and it was completely impossible to associate it with her slightly naive appearance.

A hothouse flower from a noble family?

Don't be ridiculous!

She sighed. Now that she thought about it, although she had once been a high-ranking priestess, she never seemed to have gained the upper hand in negotiations, whether it was with the Jade Water Queen or a young girl from the Northern Lands.

"...My name is Kabala, from the Sandstone clan, Fara is just a false name." Kabala gave up all resistance at this point and recounted her past in detail. At this point, it was no longer possible for the First Army to keep her, and because she had once served Garcia Wimbledon, the Third Princess of Graycastle, the archenemy of the Chieftain, it wouldn't be surprising if she was sent back to Neverwinter to be tried.

Roland Wimbledon certainly insisted on treating witches kindly, but that didn't mean he would treat the enemy's subordinates kindly.

"I'm curious, how did you deceive the Church's Purity during the battle at Wolfheart?" Nana Wawa asked.

"Besides being able to command others, Commandment can also be used to command oneself—if it's just one person, it can even do things beyond its own limits, and death is one of them." Kabala said slowly, "After receiving the order, breathing and heartbeat will temporarily stop, and at that time, the Purity and the Inquisition were still chasing the Wolf King and didn't waste too much time on me."

"I see, the scar on your face was left at that time, right?" Miss Pine pondered for a while. "I don't quite understand. You said you joined the First Army for the sake of your surviving clansmen, so why did you hide your name and even not tell the clan that you were alive?"

"What can I say? I led everyone to fight for a permanent oasis, but I was the only one who survived?" Kabala showed an unspeakable bitterness. "They entrusted their trust and hope to me, but I turned them into irrational monsters. Thousands of young and strong clansmen died in a foreign country, and the Sandstone clan was almost annexed. What face do I have to return to the tribe?"

"The First Army's recruitment of personnel among the Sandpeople made me realize that the only compensation I can make is to join the army and then use the merits I earn to exchange for land where my clansmen can live. The Sandpeople's screening is not as strict as yours. I fabricated an identity and gained Brian's trust during the encirclement and suppression of the Raging Wave and Skin Peeler clans." She lowered her head and said, "You can deal with me however you want, but... please don't vent your anger on the Sandstone clan—the remaining members of the clan are all children and women, they have never served Garcia Wimbledon."

"I understand," Nana Wawa nodded. "You can go back."

"Wh... what?" Kabala couldn't react for a moment.

"I actually wanted to ask you if you wanted to remove the scar on your face." The young girl spread her hands. "But now it seems that your answer is no. If that's the case, then I have nothing to say."

She opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say.

That's right, she had never gained the upper hand in negotiations. She was often left speechless when dealing with the Jade Water Queen, just like now...

But the feelings were so completely different.

"By the way, the Star Flower Troupe has a performance tonight, right in the Western Pass camp," Nana Wawa smiled. "If you return to your unit now, you might be able to catch the ending."

Kabala bit her lip, bowed to her in the Sandpeople's way, and turned to leave the tent.