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Chapter 389: The King and the Dangerous Witch
🕑 Added 2025-11-03 18:53:58 +0000 UTC"Right here," Luke finished, tapping his mask with two fingers. "I killed the Witch in the past without even realizing it."
The silence that followed was almost tangible.
For Luke, the pieces finally clicked into place: The Witch was the Fallen Stone Angel.
The fragments of that mental puzzle, once scattered, locked together with a sharp snap inside his mind, aligning a truth that was both simple and terrifying. Somehow, the Witch was the King’s own weakness, a distorted mirror, a resemblance that became a vulnerable point precisely because it shared the same essence. And with her power, he had awakened an army to challenge the King's forces, and with the mask, he had inherited immunity to the monster's skills, allowing him to face it head-on.
"Was the Witch this mask?" Evangeline asked, her voice thick with disbelief.
"Open the system screen," Luke urged. "Check the main mission notification."
Mission Statue Activation Detected
You have reached the heart of the kingdom, the Grand Capital. Well done, Challenger. The fate of this world now lies in your hands.
Hidden across the vast city lie three ancient mechanisms. They hold shut the castle gates, sealing the path forward. You must find them. Activate them. Only then will the way open. But be warned, the journey ahead will test you.
Each mechanism is protected by one of the Three Lords, sovereigns of their domains and unyielding in their power.
The Orc Lord, who bathes the weak in blood and rules through brute force.
The Beast Lord, whose primal dominion commands the creatures of the wild.
The Midnight Lord, the tireless guardian of the Capital and eternal servant of the throne.
But know this, there is a cost. Once the ancient seal is broken, the Midnight Wardens will never again rest. They will rise and march without end, consuming all that stands in their path. Even the long-abandoned lands will fall once more beneath their shadow. The Midnight Lord himself will awaken, bringing swift and merciless punishment to those who dared to defy the sealed order.
Beyond the castle gates lies a portal, the only exit from this world. But passage through it is not freely given. It is watched endlessly, guarded by forces that do not permit escape without challenge.
At the very heart of the castle, upon a throne forgotten by time, waits the Midnight King. Those who cross into his domain must face the Witch, once sealed away for endangering the balance of the realm. But she is not the final trial. For the one who truly rules these lands watches still, unseen, awaiting the moment to pass final judgment.
The system was laying it out exactly as it had happened. Everything—the reactivation, the guardians, the king’s awakening. It was a script written long before they ever set foot here.
Luke slowed his pace. The final words hovered in front of his eyes, the light reflecting off his sweaty face.
“A king’s domain isn’t the castle,” he murmured, almost to himself. “It’s the kingdom.”
The others glanced at him, confused, but Luke pressed on.
It was a subtle trap— a clue planted by the system from the very beginning, buried between the lines. For the first time, he saw the whole picture that had once appeared only as fragmented, disconnected pieces.
“What that said was that anyone who enters the capital will have to face the Witch,” he explained, his voice growing steadier. “She was the mandatory event tied to the third mechanism—the piece that unlocked the passage.”
Luke realized it wasn’t the castle that the text referred to—it was the moment when he opened the capital gates. Everything had started there, when the city accepted him as part of the king’s domain. By defeating the Witch, he’d gained what he needed to move forward in the tutorial and survive the Midnight War event. The tutorial was a scale. Even a single person could survive it all, provided they defeated the Witch and obtained the mask. With that, they’d have the means to tackle the next events in the tutorial alone.
Now, the puzzle had aligned, but he was at the final stage. Only the Midnight King remained to be defeated. Yet the doubt still lingered within him.
Are you or aren’t you the Witch? he asked silently, within his own mind.
“I am…” replied the soft, ancient voice within him. It was the angel’s voice. “Just as he was completely sealed, so was I… but now I can communicate with you better. Though still faintly.”
Is there any clue to killing him? Luke thought, trying to maintain the mental connection.
“I can’t help with that. I can only assure you that you are the only one who can… get close to him. He is… very weak… use my power to make your decision. Fight… or find a way to escape…”
The voice faded, slipping away like an echo into the distance. Luke stood still for a moment, breathing deeply, his eyes fixed on nothing. He was alone in this part of the battle. The group arrived at the castle gates. The black doors creaked open with a deep groan, echoing like an ancient lament. Outside, the wind howled, blending with the thick snowflakes falling around them.
What lay before them was brutal. Hundreds of soldiers were gathered outside the castle. Some were still fighting, but others stood frozen, turned into stone statues, caught in their own despair. But the horror didn’t stop there. The castle walls trembled. From the dark stones emerged distorted shapes, human figures tearing themselves free from the structure, coming to life. They were blackened, pale, cracked statues that leapt from the walls, crashing heavily onto the battlefield.
Each of them stole a fragment of the wall to be born.
[Golem of Stone - Lvl 45]
The sharp sound of cracking stone mixed with the soldiers’ screams. The ground trembled with every impact. The archangel was creating more of them, a whole army birthed from the castle itself.
“Golems. He’s making golems,” Mason said, his voice rough with tension.
The human soldiers tried to respond, but the fight was uneven. The creatures crushed shields, shattered spears, and from time to time, a white beam would cut across the sky, descending like a silent bolt of lightning. When that light touched the ground, the result was the same: men turned to stone in the blink of an eye.
Luke looked up. The sky was white with a raging snowstorm, and high above, a point of light streaked through the blizzard with near-impossible speed. It was the Midnight King. Beating four wings, the archangel hovered, a massive figure surrounded by shards of snow and white lightning. His grey, cracked skin, veins of living stone crisscrossing it, reflected the flashes of magic surrounding him.
And then Luke saw it. There was a chain.
Thick, glistening, it bound the creature’s ankles and stretched up to the floating crystal throne above, suspended over the castle’s broken towers. The throne didn’t move, as if some invisible force held it in place. But Luke realized something: the throne was pulling the king back, resisting every attempt to escape.
The archangel roared. His voice was deep, cutting through the wind and distance. He raised his spear, a weapon so white it looked made of solidified light. When he threw it, the air cracked with a sharp snap. The explosion that followed turned dozens of soldiers to stone, scattering their shattered fragments across the field.
But the second spear fell short, landing further ahead, on the bridge.
“He’s throwing it at the bridge!” Evangeline shouted.
Luke turned just in time to see the impact. The spear drove deep into the structure, cracking the runes that held the bridge together, their glow fading beneath the ice.
“He’s going to break it!” Jack said, his voice trembling.
The bridge stretched across a deep chasm, held up only by ancient magic. If it gave way, there would be no crossing. The soldiers on the other side would be trapped, and would die.
“If the bridge breaks... we won’t get reinforcements... and the boss will come... steal our bodies,” Anne said.
Luke understood instantly. The king had changed his strategy. He wasn’t just attacking; he was isolating them, cutting off any chance of help.
“Once he makes sure we have no backup...” Jack said, turning his face toward Allison.
“He’ll come after me,” she finished, her expression hardening.
Luke gripped his bow tightly. He felt the weight of the wood, the cold of the wind, the rapid rhythm of his own heartbeat. He nocked the epic arrow, holding it firm.
Could I hit the creature from here? he thought.
But the next thought hit him like a dose of reality: would the monster even allow himself to be hit? Especially with his teleportation skill?
“We’ve got one minute to come up with a plan to kill him,” Erza said, her voice firm even amid the chaos. “Or you can forget about ever going back home.”
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