10 — The Hope Was Gone, But Then...

Having witnessed this unprecedented nightmare…

I believe everything had been staged.

No one was really coming to save us.

"Clara? Clara!"

I screamed as loud as I could, realizing we had been separated.

People around me were also running, screaming, and yelling for help.

And in the crowd, I noticed a yellow fox-eared girl standing behind me.

"Lily! Where's my master?" she said after I nudged her. I only replied with a head shake.

Meanwhile, the witch with the brimmed hat was still gleefully gliding in the air while holding her staff like it was a broomstick. Such an eerie sight was unsettling, in stark contrast to the riot she had caused.

"My, my…"

"How peaceful."

She had been known by many names, but Lara the Almighty Sorcerer was the one who had once brought an entire city down to its knees.

"Also, no worries, everything was fine. This poor man was only getting absorbed…"

Is she out of her mind?

Talking to herself in the middle of a crowd that didn't even care that she was rambling nonsense. No one paid attention, except me.

And maybe a few others.

Those four witches in the middle attempted to blast her with their magic.

But no, it was a futile effort.

It almost seemed like she was barely hurt.

Not even a scratch, as if she had been tickled over and over again by these four randoms.

They were puppets. I knew that now. Clara had told me about her theories once, late at night, when she thought I was asleep. She had whispered about symbols and stagecraft, about how the Four Witches of Apocalypse were never seen, never heard, never witnessed. She had said they were actors in costumes, playing roles for a crowd that wanted to believe. I had laughed at her then. I wasn't laughing now.

But even puppets could try to fight. Even fakes could resist. The four on stage were doing their best—casting spells, throwing magic, struggling against the woman in the sky. It wasn't enough. They weren't the true Four. They were pale imitations, cheap copies, and Lara swatted them aside like flies.

Clara, where the hell are you?! I swear to God…

My eyes were scanning around, searching for her, ignoring all the chaos.

Every scream, every request for help.

I couldn't do anything. It was pointless.

"Lily! Mireille!"

A loud male voice was approaching.

His blonde hair was a mess, with no dignity left on him.

He was panting from running.

"Are you both alright?" he said while holding both of our shoulders.

There was no need to answer except with a nod.

Which I did, along with the fox spirit.

However, nothing seemed clear to me.

"What happened?" Arthur asked politely.

"Clara, she—"

My voice was interrupted by the blinding lightning, which also amplified people's screams amidst this dreadful terror. No one had ever witnessed this.

"Oh, wow! These little creatures wanted to fight~"

Right after that, she continued while colouring the sky with the grey mist of darkness and white lightning.

I had a bad feeling about this.

"Luft… der Donner."

"Movere…"

"Ducite animas ad Infernum!"

That spell…

All of a sudden, those so-called Four Witches of Apocalypse were missing from the scene.

All the others looked into the sky out of curiosity, witnessing the atrocity Lara had committed.

Lightning struck, taking away those four witches immediately.

The hysteria escalated even more.

A laugh that promised torture then spread across the Crossing Border.

"Oh my my, that indeed was a thunderous laugh."

She was punning. Her laugh had literally caused the thunder. The sound of it echoed across the sky like a crack of lightning, and she was congratulating herself for it. The vanity of it made my stomach turn.

"Nothing can save all of you now… peasants."

She swung her staff like it was some kind of acrobatic show.

Everyone went speechless. Some prayed. Some begged for forgiveness.

Others, like me, were still filled with anger and disgust.

"A'ight, a'ight! Don't be such little whiny fluffies, will ya?"

"I will give you a chance to repent…"

"By giving away your soul to the Abyss."

"And if there's anyone who dares to join us."

"Step up, and walk onto the stage."

"Easy, right?"

The previously hysterical crowd had now fallen into a screaming silence.

Some were still terrified. There were kids who literally held onto their mothers.

"Momma~!"

A little girl cried in the middle of the crowd. Her mom hushed her quickly, putting a finger to her lips.

I listened in on their conversation, even if only for a brief moment.

"Ssssh, it's okay, my dear. Close your eyes and pray to Goddess Sophia."

"Okay? We may have been powerless against evil, but she will lead us. Always."

"Really, mommy? Like when we were riding a horse cart?"

"Yes, my dear. Exactly."

Soon, both were holding hands.

In the end, they all still believed in the miracle.

Me too. We all closed our eyes as well.

Collectively. Praying according to our beliefs.

"No one? Fine."

"How foolish of you lowly peasants to believe in miracles."

"As I said before… nobody can save you now!"

"Not even your silly Gods and Goddesses!"

She raised her staff once again, creating a thunderous storm, along with little rain and grey clouds forming in the atmosphere. As if to tell us no one would come to save us.

"What?!"

"Was that…"

Wait, her staff was thrown away just like that?

An unknown attack struck her staff down onto the ground. It was so sudden yet so quiet. No, way too quiet for any ordinary magic… yet with pinpoint accuracy.

As if the spell had been hushed, or lulled to sleep.

This eerie precision…

"Stop… right there."

Suddenly, a witch in a black cloak appeared.

His face was concealed by his hood. However, even without seeing his face, we knew who he was.

"Look, it's him! The Sleepwalker himself!"

Someone pointed at him. No one believed this sight.

Nope, not even me. This was the first time I had ever witnessed him at all.

Damn, Clara would surely love this…

She was right about those fakers. Her conspiracy theories.

Everything. Including the actual presence of the Four Witches of Apocalypse.

Although many of his legends were generally unknown, the Witch of Sleepwalker was mostly famous for this sudden, hushed demeanor. Yet his influence was formidable, from repelling dragon attacks to killing one of the Demon King's generals. Everything about him was something straight from a fairytale. The most shocking part was that he was said to have performed all of these while totally unconscious. Or in other words, sleeping.

Anyway… to be honest, a glimmer of hope suddenly shone in the people's eyes.

Yet, a thunderous laugh coming from Lara warned us that this was far from over.

Way too soon to be glad just because a hero was gonna save the city.

"My, my, so this is the Witch of Sleepwalker they were talking about…"

"How impressive."

Hearing that, the legendary witch just sighed.

"Done talking, you ugly witch?"

He said it with his head down, almost as if he were lazing around.

However, as serious as it was, Lara only laughed out loud, as if oblivious.

"You're so funny, you know that? Someone as appealing as me is ugly?"

"You really have quite a sense of humour."

And just like that, she summoned her staff as if it were glued to her hand.

"Let's get started, shall we?"

I didn't know what to expect.

The Sleepwalker didn't move. He just stood there, his head down, his cloak barely stirring in the wind. He looked like a man who had fallen asleep standing up. Which, according to the stories, was exactly what he was.

Lara didn't wait. She swung her staff, and a bolt of lightning shot toward him—fast, bright, lethal. It should have hit him. It should have killed him.

It didn't.

The lightning stopped mid-air. Just stopped. Like it had forgotten how to move. Then it dissolved into nothing, fading like mist in the morning sun.

Lara's smile faltered.

"Oh? So you're not just for show."

The Sleepwalker didn't answer. He just raised his hand, slow and lazy, and a wave of something invisible rippled outward from his palm. I couldn't see it. I couldn't hear it. But I felt it—a pressure in my chest, a weight in my lungs, a sudden, overwhelming urge to close my eyes and sleep.

Around me, people were dropping. Not dead. Sleeping. One by one, they collapsed onto the ground, their eyes closing, their bodies going limp. Even Arthur stumbled, catching himself on Myra's shoulder.

"What… what is this…?" he muttered.

I fought it. I bit my tongue, dug my nails into my palm, anything to stay awake. Myra was beside me, her ears flat, her tail wrapped around her legs.

"Lily…" she whispered. "I don't… I can't…"

"Stay with me," I said.

The Sleepwalker raised his hand again.

Lara screamed something—a spell, a curse, I couldn't tell. Her staff glowed with purple light, and the sky above her turned black. Thunder rolled. Lightning struck. But none of it reached him. It all just… stopped. Like the world itself was refusing to let her touch him.

"Impossible!" she shrieked. "I am Lara the Almighty! I brought a city to its knees! I am—"

"You are loud," the Sleepwalker said.

His voice was quiet. Calm. Almost gentle.

And then he moved.

I didn't see it. I couldn't. One moment he was standing at the edge of the stage, and the next he was in front of her, his hand wrapped around her throat. She didn't even have time to scream.

"You woke me up," he said. "I don't like being woken up."

Lara's staff clattered to the ground. Her hat fell off. Her face—I saw her face for the first time—was pale with terror. She wasn't the almighty sorcerer anymore. She was just a woman, held by the throat, staring into the eyes of something she couldn't understand.

"Please…" she whispered. "Please…"

The Sleepwalker tilted his head.

"No."

And then he dropped her. Just let go, and she fell to the ground, crumpled and gasping. She didn't move. She didn't speak. She just lay there, trembling.

The Sleepwalker turned to face the crowd.

Most of them were asleep now. Only a handful of us were still awake—me, Myra, Arthur, a few others scattered through the chaos. He looked at us. Or at least, I think he did. His face was still hidden beneath his hood.

"You should go," he said. "The ceremony is over."

Then he was gone.

Just gone. Like he had never been there at all.

Silence.

Then Myra collapsed against me, her body going limp. Arthur caught her before she hit the ground. I was still standing. Barely. My legs were shaking. My heart was pounding. But I was standing.

"Clara…" I whispered. "Where are you…?"

Somewhere in the distance, beyond the sleeping crowd, beyond the fallen witch, beyond the chaos and the fear, I heard a voice.

"Lily!"

It was her.

I ran.

...