"A power too vast for this mortal vessel."
Isolde spoke seriously.
The silver threads around the werewolf tightened.
"Ugh!"
He grunted in pain.
Isolde immediately grabbed her wrist with her other hand, as though she was struggling to control herself.
"No..."
She breathed heavily.
"Not here.
Not again."
Naomi looked at the black cat sitting on Isolde’s shoulder.
Lord Whiskers looked completely bored, as if he had seen this for the nth time.
Isolde continued.
"If I use even one percent of my true strength, this maze may collapse."
The werewolf stared at her.
Naomi stared even harder.
Isolde slowly turned back towards him.
"So consider yourself fortunate."
She spoke with the calm dignity of an ancient ruler granting mercy to a condemned prisoner.
"I shall not destroy you."
"You’re insane."
The werewolf couldn’t take it anymore.
"Insane?"
Isolde narrowed her eyes, the cards around her suddenly spread out as silver light filled the corridor.
"You mistake restraint for madness."
She placed her hand on her chest.
"I am Isolde Verraine.
Keeper of the Seventeen Seals.
Bearer of the Forbidden Star.
The Calamity Sleeping Beneath the Black Moon."
Naomi did not fail to notice how the titles had suddenly changed compared to when she first introduced herself.
The Witch couldn’t even stick to the same script.
Naomi couldn’t believe it. The Witch’s gaze, however, remained on the wolf and she—
"And you..."
She continued with her fingers still trembling.
"You are not worthy of forcing me to awaken."
The werewolf struggled against the threads, not wanting to take any more of this mockery, but however dramatic Isolde was, the fact that couldn’t be denied was that Isolde Verraine was strong.
The wolf couldn’t free himself.
As for Isolde—
"Naomi."
She called out as she turned towards her.
"Check his arm."
Naomi glanced at the glowing mark.
"He has a Waymark."
"I knew it.
Mana told me he had something I would want."
Isolde nodded as if she had already expected it.
"You can literally see that with your eyes."
Naomi spoke in a flat tone.
Again, Isolde ignored her.
"Then I have no choice."
Her coat rose around her as magical wind filled the corridor, the floating cards formed a circle behind her, the silver nails pointed towards the werewolf and Isolde’s face twisted as though she was fighting against an unbearable power inside herself.
"Forgive me..."
She whispered.
"I promised never to use this technique again."
Then, she raised her hand.
"Final Forbidden Art."
A single card slowly floated forward, gently touching the werewolf’s forehead.
"Merciful Judgment of the Wandering Witch!"
Naomi announced.
The card let out a blinding glow, the werewolf’s eyes rolled back, silver light covered his body and he—
He disappeared.
A Waymark fell onto the floor, then it disappeared and appeared on Isolde’s arm and—
The entire area turned silent.
Naomi stared at the empty space where the wolf once was, then at Isolde.
The Witch still hadn’t dropped her pose. Her arm was raised, her eyes remained closed, then she breathed heavily as though she had just survived an impossible battle against her own power.
"The seal..."
She finally lowered her hand.
"It held."
Naomi looked at the card lying on the floor.
"What did that spell actually do?"
Isolde opened her eyes.
"It struck his mind, taking away his deepest consciousness—"
"You just knocked him unconscious, didn’t you?"
"Yes."
Isolde nodded shamelessly.
Naomi just sighed in disappointment.
Forbidden Art my ass.
Isolde stared at her. She noticed her disappointed expression and shook her head.
"Girl, you witnessed a woman stand at the edge of destruction and choose mercy."
"You tapped him on the forehead with a card."
Isolde shook her head, laughing as if she knew she wouldn’t be understood here. Naomi’s mouth twitched.
Then suddenly—
Isolde extended her hand towards Naomi.
"Payment."
"For what?"
Naomi frowned.
"The bet."
"He lasted much more than three seconds."
Isolde paused, then she looked towards the cat on her shoulder as if she wanted him to take her side.
Lord Whiskers looked away.
Isolde then shamelessly cleared her throat.
"I was counting slowly."
"That’s not how it works."
"But didn’t you see how grand my spells were? They have the power to slow time itself."
"I didn’t feel anything."
"Please?"
"No."
"Half the amount?"
"Just accept your defeat."
Isolde paused. She looked genuinely hurt. Naomi didn’t care, she was already used to her antics at this point.
Then suddenly—
The Waymark on Isolde’s arm disappeared and appeared on Naomi’s.
"What is this?"
Naomi asked with a surprised look on her face.
"I do not have silver.
Take this instead."
"Why didn’t you bet in the first pla—"
"I did not know I was dealing with ignorant fools who do not understand the concept of time flow."
"...right."
Naomi only nodded.
Since the battle was over, the two continued walking.
...
"Kkrrkk!! Unhand me!!"
On the other side of the Trial, another werewolf, just as powerful as the one Isolde had just defeated, was struggling desperately as a man held him by the neck, lifting his body above the ground.
The wolf continued to thrash violently, trying to free himself from the man’s grip, to hit him, to rip his skin, to counter in any possible way but—
Everything he did was useless.
The difference in power was simply too high.
So in defeat, the wolf only looked into the man’s demonic violet eyes in horror.
"W-Why is a D-Demon inside the Trial?"
"It has nothing to do with you."
The man answered in a frighteningly cold tone as he tightened his hold around the wolf’s neck. The wolf struggled pointlessly, then just as he was about to lose his life, silver light covered his body and he disappeared.
"Tsk."
The man snorted, not liking how he had to waste his time in this darned place.
He expanded his senses once again, hoping to find something and finally, after the fifty-eighth attempt—
His violet eyes shined.
’There she is.’
A grin appeared on his face. Soon, however, a frown appeared on his face when he sensed fire, blood and... alcohol...?
Lucian’s expression turned cold as he thought of the worst-case scenario, then, without waiting another second—
He dashed forward.
Uncaring of the traps he activated in his way because by the time those traps were activated—
He was long gone.