After finishing official business in the evening, Roland returned to his bedroom and saw Anna organizing clothes, with a large leather suitcase beside her.
“Uh… what are you doing?”
“Can’t you tell?” She patted the neatly folded clothes in the closet. “Preparing for a long journey.”
“Then Winterfell will have to shut down,” Roland joked. “Is it really okay for the Minister of Industry to leave without saying goodbye?”
“Don’t worry. Apart from a few finished products like steam turbines and enhanced piston engines, the factories can now basically produce everything, even if the passing rate is a bit low. And those members of the Association of Wonders you brought back have decent talent. It won’t be a big problem to let them manage the department for a while.”
“Wait…” Roland suddenly sensed something was wrong. The clothes Anna had chosen were mostly plain and durable. None of the silk dresses and skirts she usually wore to banquets or other formal occasions were present, and she didn't seem to be joking. “Where are you going?”
“The Floating Island, with you.” She gave him a look that said, “Is that even a question?” “You don’t plan to just wait in Winterfell for the results from the front line, do you? I can tell that you made your decision after talking with the Three Chiefs of Taquila. Besides, traveling to the Bottomless Land from the air is much more convenient than going through the Spine of the Continent. You’d have a good reason not to come back.”
“That won’t work—” Roland subconsciously rejected. “Putting aside the decisive battle with the main force of the devils, no one knows what’s in the Bottomless Land. And according to Hackzord, it’s been occupied by the Sky-Sea World. You know how risky this trip is—”
“Slap.”
Anna reached out and gently patted his face, forcibly turning his shaking head straight, then rubbed his cheeks. “Of course I know. Because I know, that’s why I must go.”
Her voice wasn’t loud, even gentle, but looking into her eyes, he knew this was not up for debate.
For a moment, she overlapped with how she looked when they first met.
Back then, Anna was still childish, possessing nothing but her ability. But even so, it was extremely difficult to change her mind once she had made a decision.
Roland could only make one last attempt, “You’re different from before. As the Queen, it’s not a mature decision to abandon everything in Winterfell to take this unnecessary risk—”
“If I were truly mature, I wouldn’t agree to let you go to the Bottomless Land without knowing anything.” Anna interrupted him, pressing her hands down. “What you’ll eventually become, whether you fail or disappear, are all possible outcomes. In other words, this expedition might be the last time we see each other. Do you think I’d still stay in the city? Since we’re both taking a risk, adding me won’t make much difference.”
“…” Roland knew his last attempt had failed. After all, if he were in her place, he wouldn’t want to wait alone at a time like this. “If neither of us can come back…”
“Then the situation must be as bad as it can get, right?” Anna released his face and smiled. “But even so, I won’t regret it.”
...
Passing through the twisting black and white lines, Nightingale walked into the empty office.
It was late at night, and most people had fallen asleep. Only flickering lights could still be seen in the courtyard.
After drawing the curtains, she opened a drawer and placed a glowing magic stone on the lamp holder.
Soon, the room was illuminated by a soft light.
The teacup fragments had long been cleared away by the maid, and the carpet had been completely replaced. The previous accident had left no trace, as if it had never happened.
Nightingale crossed the telephone desk and quickly found her target—a wooden box placed on the desk, covered with messy documents.
Within the Mist, she didn’t need light to distinguish objects. That unpredictable realm was like another world, always in a three-color state. The outlines constructed of black, white, and gray could be seen in every detail, even without a light source.
Except in one case.
She opened the box. Inside were stacks of papers filled with writing, and several clear, small stones.
Nightingale picked up one of the stones and held it in her palm, then tried to enter the Mist—the surging magic suddenly dissipated before it could take shape, as if blocked by something.
“As expected…” She sighed, somewhat sullenly tossing the stone back into the wooden box.
This was a report from the "Magic Tower", not from Agatha and Celine, but from Isabella, or more likely, written jointly by them—the crisis of the God-made God had only recently been resolved. At this moment, the red mist on the Hermes Plateau still hadn't completely dissipated, and the Taquila witches also needed to digest the discoveries and experiments of the Purifiers. Therefore, Isabella simply stayed in Winterfell temporarily. In addition to the technology obtained from the devils, they seemed to be producing quite a few results during this time, with a report being sent to the office every few days.
Roland usually reviewed them on the same day, but today was an exception. The separation of North Slope Mountain and the test flight of the large airplane were arranged on the same day, so he hadn't had time to open the box.
Nightingale had noticed its existence from the beginning—after all, in the Mist world, only two things were unaffected: the colorful magic and the pure black voids created by God Stones. Of course, according to Isabella and their research, these two could be considered the same thing.
Therefore, she had discovered this group of black light as early as when Roland met Barrihed Lossa, but compared to ordinary God Stones, it had a much smaller range of influence, clearly modulated by Isabella. Since it was a sample related to the report, she didn't pay too much attention to it.
This was why she didn’t use Instant Step the moment the teacup fell—the black light obscured the falling teacup, and the moment she entered the Mist, her body had already made the judgment “irreversible.”
If it was only like this, it would just be a small accident, but Nightingale saw a line constituting the table pop forward under her touch, pass through the black light, and finally hit the teacup, changing its trajectory.
Any distortion in the Mist is uncontrollable, even she must always be wary of those restless contour lines, otherwise she herself would be cut open.
She had never seen anything like this before.
But Nightingale wasn’t sure whether it was an accidental coincidence, or if something had really changed in her.
She used her ability again, repeatedly touching the corner of the table in the Mist, and simulated the situation at the time, making several attempts to rush forward, but no accidents occurred.
It seems she was just overthinking it. Nightingale withdrew her hand somewhat awkwardly. Agatha was right, just because many witches in the alliance had achieved this, didn't mean evolution was an easy thing. It was a good thing she hadn't said it at the time, otherwise Roland would definitely have laughed at her.
She put the glowing magic stone back in the drawer and left the office the way she came.
“Crack…”
A soft sound suddenly appeared in the quiet room.
At the edge of the table, where no one could see, a crack bloomed along the wooden grain.