Chapter 63

The witch of joy was dragged off to the Outsider Church without resistance.

Anyone who’d lost family to Tungkeschuni might’ve expected at least one person to protest her being taken to the Outsider Church, but nobody opposed Dakota’s decision.

That’s because they all understood the implications of the question Dakota had just asked.

More than half the people present knew Dakota’s past—they knew exactly when and how her family had died.

That’s because whenever Dakota tried to convince someone who’d lost a loved one to Tungkeschuni, she would tell them her own story.

Meanwhile, the poor clueless witch who didn’t even realize what she’d just said began throwing a tantrum, claiming she’d die of sepsis if they didn’t treat her immediately.

Everyone in the room carefully gauged Dakota’s reaction.

Dakota smiled sweetly at those watching her and ordered an immediate surgical procedure.

The church members understood and promptly took Tungkeschuni to a room.

After sedating her with medication, they proceeded with a literal surgical operation.

Her cleanly amputated arm was disinfected, the wound cauterized, and medicine applied. Her badly crushed right hand was surgically removed near the forearm and treated accordingly.

Similar procedures were carried out on her limbs, and as a precaution, a magical seal was drawn along her spine.

As for her legs, which only had cuts and punctures, they went ahead and treated them surgically anyway.

While it wasn’t entirely selfless, no one there dared to point it out.

But hey, at least she wouldn’t die—so everyone could call this a happy ending!

The next day…

Inside the carriage heading toward the Outsider Church headquarters…

Tungkeschuni woke up from the sedative and let out a blood-curdling scream.

“WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO MY ARMS AND LEGS?! HOW DARE YOU SACRED PRIESTS DO THIS TO ME?!”

Just as she started thinking of herself as the victim, Tungkeschuni’s attitude quickly shifted into overbearing mode. To anyone observing, her meltdown was almost pitiful.

Dakota?

She was smiling.

Instead of yelling back, she simply replied:

“Receive my blessing.”

Tungkeschuni knew what this meant—if she accepted the blessing, all her wounds would heal. But there was always a cost—an important sacrifice involved.

Nobody knew exactly what that sacrifice was.

But Tungkeschuni did. She knew what happened to humans who had their “warmth,” as the Outsiders called it, stolen away. They lost their human form and became monstrous beings endlessly searching for warmth. Once, with Yasle’s permission, she’d tried to sneak away one such monster—but it couldn’t be contained. Magic didn’t affect it, and iron bars were useless; it chewed through everything. Eventually, they had no choice but to kill the creature before things got worse. And to prevent future experiments, they immediately disposed of the offering whose warmth had been stolen.

But she couldn’t outright accuse the Outsider of being evil.

Even Tungkeschuni knew better than to open her mouth carelessly here—it would get her killed instantly.

And telling the Outsider Church members that their god was a monster? They’d rebel against her.

Who would tolerate someone calling their god a monster?

Instead, she bitterly asked:

“Do you plan to give *her* a blessing too?”

Dakota smiled sweetly in response.

“Of course! The witch must receive her blessing.”

Tungkeschuni thought Dakota was some unhinged saintess—but if she knew the truth, she’d realize Dakota was unhinged in an entirely different way.

Because Dakota was already thinking beyond the blessing.

No one receives two blessings.

Once you’ve received one, unless you have special abilities, receiving another is nearly impossible due to your body’s limits.

First, bless her… then break her again.

This was Dakota’s plan.

She had no intention of letting Tungkeschuni die easily. Let things get messy. It didn’t matter if her current actions were inappropriate for her position—or even if she had to abandon everything she’d built up until now.

Because finally, she could exact revenge.

That day…

Her parents were murdered by the witch standing before her, who then stabbed her through the chest with a bone-adorned cane. Dakota remembered the freezing cold creeping through her as fear and despair consumed her.

She wasn’t about to let Tungkeschuni die comfortably.

With differing thoughts in mind, they soon arrived at the capital of Ansellus Kingdom, where the Outsider Church’s main headquarters and holy site were located.

They were immediately led inside.

The Outsider Church headquarters weren’t grand temples.

In fact, they looked rather shabby compared to other religious buildings. Originally, they had bought a few structures in the plaza and remodeled them. This simplicity suited the Outsider Church’s image of helping the marginalized—and so, for over ten years, they’d continued using these humble buildings.

After being led underground by Dakota, Tungkeschuni encountered a very strange individual.

“An Outsider? Impossible! You can’t possibly be here!”

At first sight, Tungkeschuni turned pale and screamed. Then, noticing the golden hair, she realized who it was.

“What?! Rebecca? Rebecca Rolfe? Almost a hundred years later, and you’re still alive?! Looking like *that*?!”

It had been nearly ninety years since they last met, and Tungkeschuni was shocked. Rebecca looked exactly the same as she remembered.

Her ageless appearance was eerily witch-like, yet no trace of witchcraft lingered around her. Confused, Tungkeschuni voiced her doubts.

“It’s been a while… but shouldn’t the question of whether I’m still alive be coming from me?”

Rebecca confirmed this while looking down at Tungkeschuni sprawled on the cold floor, speaking in a casual tone as though chatting with an old friend.

Rebecca didn’t particularly dislike Tungkeschuni—she just disliked people in general.

So, upon meeting her, Rebecca showed no special reaction. Thinking she wasn’t being targeted, Tungkeschuni held up her severed arm.

“Let me go! Look what you’ve done to me! I wrote the book that summons the Outsider! I’m not a bad person!”

Desperate to survive, Tungkeschuni pleaded fervently. Even she knew why they’d brought her to this soundproof basement—it wasn’t for anything good.

She had enough sense for that—though it was far too late.

So, she argued that she wasn’t one of the bad guys in the eyes of the Outsider Church. After all, she had written the book that summoned the Outsider.

“Oh, you mean this?”

Rebecca tossed a thick book onto the floor in front of her. When it opened, the writing confirmed it belonged to Tungkeschuni.

“Yes, I wrote this! What about it? Summoning the Outsider? Isn’t that what you want? I can help you!”

But Rebecca barely glanced at her, leaving Tungkeschuni feeling dreadfully uneasy.

When Rebecca noticed Tungkeschuni’s forced smile, she chuckled softly.

“Admitting so much already? Writing summoning traps to solidify whatever appears into stone sounds like quite the talent.”

She understood.

Despair swept over Tungkeschuni. If this kept up, she’d definitely be killed. She realized she’d missed something crucial.

Now, she frantically defended herself.

“Of course, not just anyone can summon a deity! If you can’t interpret it properly, you can’t summon them anyway, right? Wouldn’t you feel upset if your god appeared somewhere random? I’ll help you do it correctly!”

Tungkeschuni swallowed the rest of her plea for mercy—knowing full well that begging might actually lead to her death.

Because Tungkeschuni herself had killed countless others who begged for their lives. She knew how dangerous that could be.

Rebecca chuckled darkly.

It sent involuntary giggles through Tungkeschuni’s throat, making her sound crazier than ever.

When Dakota moved to intervene, Rebecca raised a hand to stop her. Then, pointing at Tungkeschuni with a finger, she spoke.

“This witch has a habit of laughing when she’s scared.”

A long-buried secret slipped out casually. Tungkeschuni wondered how Rebecca knew, then recalled the time the Outsider had seen through her mask.

“Wait—you’ve been watching everything through the Outsider?”

Rebecca paused, considering the question. Seeing Dakota’s sudden realization, she smiled faintly before turning back to Tungkeschuni.

“Yes. And I’ve seen more. I know who the Outsider once was—and how they became what they are today.”

Though she didn’t mention seeing everything, it was probably for the best—continuing might’ve driven her insane.

And that’s why she knew…

Humans must fear the Outsider. If they could extinguish even a fraction of its coldness by killing someone, they would do anything.

The coldness was unbearable—how had the Outsider endured it for so long?

If she were in the Outsider’s place, she’d snatch any nearby warmth without hesitation. Its memories were torturous, horrifying beyond belief.

Rebecca knelt down to meet Tungkeschuni’s gaze.

Tungkeschuni’s pupils dilated.

Whatever she saw in Rebecca’s eyes made her realize something terrifying.

“You… you don’t…”

Instinctively, she reached out with her right hand—even though it had been cut off just above the shoulder. She meant to point accusingly.

“Judging by your state, it seems you cannot interfere with the Outsider’s return.”

Then she stood up.

“Dakota, don’t hog all the fun. Share this vengeance with others who hate her. I’ll leave now.”

Waving goodbye to Dakota, Rebecca exited the room. Tungkeschuni couldn’t bring herself to stop her—not when she recognized the familiar expression on Dakota’s face.

“The day the Outsider disappeared, my parents were murdered before my eyes. A girl dying from a stab wound to the chest was left behind.”

In a soft, gentle voice, the woman wearing the saintess’ mask began to speak. Tungkeschuni had no idea what she was talking about—but she understood her life was in grave danger.

And she also realized there was no escape, no matter what she said now.

“The Outsider saved me. Since then, I’ve lived solely to kill witches.”

Her tone shifted midway. All the sticky hatred Dakota had hidden until now began to seep out. Finally, Tungkeschuni understood where she’d gone wrong.

She grasped exactly when her mistakes began.

Barely.

Or maybe too late.

“We’ll spend a long time together. I’ve gathered plenty of people who dislike you.”

Click.

The heavy sound of the door locking echoed in the room.

This space was completely isolated—a fact that immediately sank into Tungkeschuni’s mind.

Her screams would reach no one.

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