Witch Monastery
Chapter 395: The Angel’s Target Is Actually…
What a troublesome foe!
Sulpharlo swore under her breath but never once looked back to fight her pursuer. Even with the flaming black greatsword in hand—capable of seriously wounding her opponent with one hit—she still had zero intention of turning and trading blows.
Why? Because this commotion would soon bring more heavy hitters running. Even though this was the relatively quiet South Harbor District, the distance was nothing to the legendary spellcasters of Liberl Port.
Once word got out, they could appear instantly, wielding their formidable mana against her!
If that was all, maybe she could accept it. With her speed, even if she couldn’t win, she’d be able to escape.
But the real danger was if some pastor recognized her and word reached her colleagues on Mount Celestia. If the other angels learned she was in Liberl Port, she’d be in deep, deep trouble.
She couldn’t afford to linger.
Grab Malena and her daughter—teleport out immediately!
If she absolutely had to, she could even abandon Lisa!
That thought fueling her, Sulpharlo braced against Theresa’s relentless beams chasing her from behind. Her wings pumped for another burst of speed as she circled above the monastery, reaching out with her bloodline’s senses to locate Malena.
Although Malena herself hadn’t awakened her astral bloodline, Lisa clearly had, and the two were bound to be together. With that thread, Sulpharlo quickly homed in on Malena’s location and dove toward her target.
And what about Malena and her daughter?
They were in the scriptorium of the monastery, where Lisa attended class every day.
Terrified almost beyond reason, the little girl’s mind had taken her to the one place that felt safe. With a flash of white light, she and her mother appeared on the scriptorium’s second floor.
But even though they’d escaped that terrifying angel, the effects of "Charm Person" still lingered. Malena’s expression was vacant, and she held onto her daughter’s hand as she stepped toward the door, saying, "Let’s go, Lisa. I’ll take you to see our ancestor."
Lisa clung to her mother’s leg, her voice trembling with terror, "Mom, don’t go outside! She’s not a good person—she’s dangerous!"
"We should wait here for Priest Charles to come. When he gets here, everything will be all right! Mom, please don’t go!"
Hearing Charles’s name, Malena hesitated, but the angel’s magic was simply too strong. In the end, Malena bent down, scooped Lisa into her arms, and started for the exit. "We can’t wait for him. Ancestor’s command is more important. Lisa, you have to listen..."
She spoke softly, carrying the little girl down the stairs and out the scriptorium doors—just in time to see two streaks of energy racing overhead. Somehow, she just knew one of them was her ancestor.
A wide smile bloomed on her face as she waved both hands at the sky. "Ancestor, I’m right here!"
Up above, Sulpharlo’s lips curled in triumph.
Perfect!
She dove straight for Malena and her daughter!
Behind her, Theresa’s face darkened in panic and she reflexively chanted, "Blink!"
Blink!
Using the Ethereal Plane as a shortcut, she could now make short-range teleports for the next minute—and she could bring one person along!
Theresa vanished from sight, thinking furiously as she moved: Malena was just an ordinary human woman—attractive maybe, but to one of the angel’s level, not much of interest.
That could only mean the angel’s real target was Lisa, the Divine Soul Warlock prodigy, who could already cast 4th-level spells before the age of ten...
In the blink of an eye, she’d worked it out. Even with outrageous speed, the angel couldn’t outpace her; Theresa appeared right beside Lisa and scooped her up in a near-desperate grab, teleporting away at once!
But the very next second, Sulpharlo landed beside Malena. Instead of panicking at losing the child, she caught the mature woman with one arm and—
"Invisibility!" she intoned, invoking the spell. Instantly, both she and Malena vanished.
Flash—
A heartbeat later, Theresa returned from the Ethereal Plane with Lisa, standing at the monastery’s main doorway, staring after the spot where Sulpharlo had vanished.
Was my reasoning...wrong?
The angel hadn’t gone for the wildly gifted Lisa, but for her mother Malena?!
But...why?
Even before Charles purified her, Theresa had carefully examined both mother and daughter to analyze their talents, personalities, and which approach would most effectively torment their souls.
By every assessment, Malena was just a pretty, average human woman. Even if she had an eye for fashion at Charles’s shop, she was ultimately ornamental, perhaps able to help make a few extra coins—nothing remarkable.
How could someone like that draw the obsession of an angel? Why would an angel take her away at all costs, even braving lethal attacks?
Theresa was utterly baffled and struggled to shake off the confusion settling over her heart.
Just then, a wail of grief came from the girl in her arms. "Mom!"
Lisa!
Only after realizing her mother had been taken by the bad guy did Lisa start crying, wailing in despair.
Theresa was instantly flustered. Knowing how much Charles valued the girl, she hugged her tightly, stammering out reassurances: "Uh...it’s okay, the angel must’ve had an emergency. I’m sure your mom’ll be back soon. She’ll be fine..."
But the words sounded awkward—even to herself. Theresa interacted with Lisa rarely; either the weakest witch Andny, or the erudite Sophia, had always handled her lessons.
Theresa really didn’t know how to teach Lisa, and had no authority in the girl’s eyes. Her words had no effect—Lisa just bawled harder, raising the tension. But Theresa had no choice but to hold on and keep trying to soothe her, patience stretched thin.
Just then, from far off, came the thunder of hooves and carriage wheels, followed by the snorting of mighty horses pulling up. The sound of boots stampeded closer, then Charles’s anxious voice: "What happened?!"
Theresa nearly sagged with relief. She called out, almost desperately, "Master—!"
The instant she shouted this, Lisa immediately stopped crying. She shot Theresa a suspicious look, her mind racing with questions.
What was going on? Why did Sister Theresa call Priest Charles "Master?"
Could it be...?
A swirl of questions filled her little head; she couldn’t help but open her mouth in adorable surprise.
"It’s all right now, sweetheart."
Inside the monastery’s infirmary, Ruth lay motionless in bed, pale as a ghost, utterly weak. Charles sat by her side, holding her cold hand gently and speaking in a soothing murmur: "Don’t worry. Get some rest. Leave the rest to me."
The Bladewitch was in terrible shape, and yet guilt filled her expression: "Sorry, Master...if only I’d been better prepared, maybe this wouldn’t have—"
Before she could finish, Charles sat up, wrapped her in a gentle embrace, and whispered, "It’s not your fault, darling. The enemy was an angel—none of us saw that coming."
"Even if I’d been here, I might not have managed any better."
Half an hour earlier, after arriving home and sending Lisa to bed with Andny, Charles had gotten a brief rundown from Theresa. He quickly grasped the situation.
But deep inside, his mind churned with disbelief.
He meant every word: From game to real life, he’d never fought an angel.
According to the witches’ description, this was a real, snow-white winged, unfallen angel!
Even the weakest angel could hit speeds of a hundred kilometers an hour at full flight and turn or stop in midair with ease.
They weren’t like Erinyes—fallen angels with black-red wings, clad in plate armor, their speed halved or worse.
Even with his 6th-level spell "Tasha’s Otherworldly Guise," Charles could barely match a fallen angel’s speed, not a true angel. Without Haste, he’d never catch that foe.
If he’d been here tonight, odds are he’d just have gotten beaten—there was nothing he could have done to change the outcome.
He kept these worries bottled up, setting aside his emotions as he bent to kiss Ruth lightly on the lips. He reached out, closed her eyes, and said softly, "Sleep. When you wake up in the morning, all will be well."
Obedient, Ruth settled into slumber, breathing slow and steady. The substance of witches—though unique—functioned under the same basic principle as mortals: After suffering heavy injury, they had to choose to lose consciousness so their bodies could save energy and recover faster.
Only when she was truly asleep did Charles rise and step out into the hall. As soon as he did, his face clouded over with icy anger.
There was one thing he couldn’t figure out: Why would an angel bear him such hatred?
Angels, the swords of the gods of order, only acted against evil. And in this age, with the gods retreating from the mortal world, angels never showed up unless someone performed truly heinous acts—sacrificing millions of souls, summoning demon lords en masse, unleashing horrors no one could stop.
Had he ever done something like that?
No! 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦
So why did an angel hate him?
Was there some huge misunderstanding?
Or...was that massive red dot not actually the angel after all? Could the real enemy be someone else?
He had too many questions, and no way to untangle the knot for now.
He leaned against the clinic doorway, wrestling with thoughts, when the witches shuffled up. Theresa led the pack, face full of guilt. "Sorry, Master, I couldn’t stop that woman..."
The others all gathered around, but none dared speak, the air thick with disappointment. In the end, none of them had been able to help, just watched helplessly as Malena was taken.
Charles snapped out of it, shook his head, and said, "Don’t blame yourselves. If an angel is willing to risk grave injury just to take Malena, there’s nothing any of us could have done to stop her."
He was being completely honest. When you’re outpaced by such speed, even world-shattering power is worthless. If you can’t hit your target—what good are you?
He didn’t doubt that even his Storm Warhammer couldn’t have caught up with that angel’s flight. All you could do in the face of that was stare and fume.
Rubbing his chin, brows furrowed, he muttered, "But why would an angel come after us? What could she want with Malena?"
The witches shook their heads. Sure, they’d wronged plenty of innocent folks in the South Harbor District, but if an angel was there for vengeance, she’d target them, not ignore them and go after Charles and Malena.
After a moment’s thought, Sephera bit her lip and ventured a guess: "Could it be...that angel really is Malena’s ancestor? Maybe, because of your relationship with her, she blames you, Master?"
Charles scratched his head. He’d already suspected the angel might be Malena’s ancestor: "It’s possible. But why not just tell me? Malena’s bound to start another family someday—keeping things between us like this isn’t realistic, uh..."
"And if she’s got grand plans, why the sudden violence? Hurting Ruth, kidnapping Malena—what is that?"
He didn’t understand. The more he thought on it, the angrier he got.
If you’re truly Malena’s ancestor and need to take her away for some important reason, nobody would object.
But sneaking around, then kidnapping her and maiming Ruth in the process—for that, you’re not getting a pass.
Whatever noble cause or secret pain you may have—there’s a price to pay!
A resolve hardened in Charles’s heart.
Wherever you are, I’ll find you. And I’ll repay everything that happened tonight, every last bit!
He took a deep breath, still thinking.
"Sephera," he said, turning to her with instructions, "track down Daevyl Starsong—I need the help of his shadowy intelligence network."
If the angel was indeed Malena’s ancestor, then Shapiro’s clues rang true. There had to be a close tie between the two of them; finding Shapiro might be the key to digging up that angel!
And as for Shapiro’s whereabouts?
Charles wasn’t too worried. The guy ran a low profile, sure, but after leading House Cassalanter’s assault on Abyssal Lord Montport, he was far too famous for the shadow networks to ignore. They’d certainly want to keep tabs on, maybe even recruit, a lone wolf that powerful. Through those channels, Charles was sure he could track down the warlock blessed by the Celestial Planes’ patron.
Sephera paused, looking hesitant. "But, Master...where should I even look for Daevyl Starsong?"
Charles blinked, then replied, "Right now, he’s almost definitely in South Harbor District—especially since the Golden Dragon Bank sent their people."
"As for the specifics... Chances are he’s at one of three locations. Let Andny’s familiars keep watch. If they spot a female half-orc, odds are Daevyl’s nearby!"
...
The blinding light show over the monastery last night caused quite a stir throughout South Harbor District, but eventually, Sephera came forward to explain. She claimed a thief had tried breaking into the monastery and broken some magical apparatus, causing the strange phenomenon.
And since the only real effect was the light, with no real harm done, everyone relaxed. Sephera apologized for disturbing everyone’s rest.
She revealed nothing about the angel, or the kidnapping, or the direct confrontation with a divine blade. Justice, after all, is what angels symbolize, and going public would only invite disaster for the monastery’s reputation.
With the church’s official statement, even those who glimpsed a real angel started doubting their senses: as if a true god would send a blade to punish such a well-loved monastery? Ridiculous!
So, the incident faded fast, leaving no further ripples.
The next morning.
In a small apartment attached to the South Harbor District Office, Daevyl Starsong sat in loungewear sprawled across a giant sofa, leafing thoughtfully through intelligence passed by an old friend from Golden Dragon Bank.
Steam curled gently from a cup of coffee on the table. The Sun Elf paid it no mind, focused entirely on the files before him.
"Gold dragonborn..." he muttered, shaking his head. "Greedy to the core. Then again, for them, ’free trade’ is all that matters—if no one’s forced, they’ll claim it’s not against principle."
"But behind the scenes: market manipulation, the strong preying on the weak...hah!"
Recalling the gold dragonborn’s conduct stoked his resolve for revenge.
He straightened, about to sip his coffee, when his burly bodyguard, the half-orc woman Yagra Stonefist, entered the room. "Boss, Priest Charles is here—says he’s got urgent business."
Daevyl’s head snapped up, startled. "Him? Wait—how the hell did he know I was here?"
~~~
Get early access to 370+ advanced Chapters on Patreon!
patreon.com/MetaFic
~~~