Chapter 198

I headed east with the soldiers.

We had to keep going until all the water above us disappeared.

Victoria’s ocean stretched so wide when she was in the east that it reached the south—it covered an immense area. Even after we escaped from the city within that range, we walked for quite a while and ended up at a distant mountain.

From the entrance of the mountain, it looked like an army had passed through; the trees were all bent and lying on the ground, and countless footprints marked the earth.

It was clear evidence that an army had gone by.

Following those tracks, I was dragged uphill halfway by a mechanical device’s hand.

As soon as I reached the halfway point, I saw a mix of old buildings with half-peeled paint and newly erected temporary tents. In between them, soldiers drenched like rats soaked in water could be seen here and there.

The most noticeable thing was the mechanical devices—starting from ones slightly larger than humans that carried me, all the way up to massive ones three times the size of a person.

They weren’t exoskeletons but rather fully rideable robots.

There were hundreds of these things. Now I understood why Marquis Gaston was so confident he could quickly suppress the minor unrest happening in Bern City.

If only this wasn’t an area where magic power couldn’t be used, it would’ve already been resolved by now.

In the middle of all these mechanical devices stood a unique building. There was also what looked like a supply base for the mechanical devices, with the company name “Ganrufu” engraved on it.

I vaguely remember this place being related to programming, but seeing how they provide equipment here, do they manufacture hardware too?

Or is this equipment meant to modify the internal programs of the mechanical devices located here?

Soon enough, I’ll find out.

The commander entered what seemed to be the command post, leaving behind only the soldiers and those riding the mechanical devices. Occasionally, sharp gazes came my way, probably because my appearance resembled a harvester.

Once I meet the highest-ranking person, I’ll use the fact that Marquis Gaston is already dead and his attack on the royal family to manipulate and shake things up.

Either way, it’s fatal for the military.

That’s when it happened.

A man dressed not in military uniform but in expensive-looking clothing emerged alongside the commander.

The moment he stepped out, he punched me hard in the chest.

*Wham!*

Ow… One of my ribs just broke.

“Listen up, soldiers! Bern City has been utterly devastated. Why? It’s all because of this witch! She organized the rioters and plotted treason against the royal family! In other words, she’s a manipulative traitor!”

He kept kicking my chest and stomach repeatedly. Hmm, looks like he doesn’t want me talking.

It seems they’re treating me as a traitor altogether and trying to frame everything that happened in Bern City as part of suppressing a rebellion.

Smart move.

Then he slapped me across the face.

For a normal person, that slap would’ve left them dizzy. His calloused hands show he knows how to throw some serious punches.

“Look at her filthy face! The face of the witch who massacred your fellow citizens and turned Bern City into hell itself!”

After saying that, he struck my jaw hard enough to give me a concussion.

Of course, something like that won’t stop me from functioning.

But pretending to lose consciousness, I let my body go limp. Then he grabbed my hair and yanked me up, striking my stomach again.

Hmm? Trying to wake me up?

So, following his intention, I acted like I regained consciousness, and the man brought his face close to mine, asking:

“Apologize, witch. Admit your crime of turning Bern City into hell and beg for forgiveness! If you’ve sinned, you must seek mercy! Speak! Soldiers, listen! This witch still refuses to acknowledge her sins! We must teach her ourselves! All troops, assemble before me!”

At his command, people started gathering one by one.

Many watched with smug expressions, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

Once enough spectators had gathered, the man holding me turned to the soldiers and said:

“Each of you, show this witch the sin she committed!”

In other words, take your revenge.

One soldier cursed me, saying his lover in Bern City got caught up in the riots and died, along with his family during the conflict.

One by one, others followed suit, blaming me for losing comrades in the riots or missing relatives from Bern City. They poured out their grievances onto me.

Skillfully done.

Is this gaslighting in a gaslamp fantasy?

To put it simply, they’ve created an easy target for blame, crushed it, and used it to unite the group.

First, they apply group pressure to label me as guilty. If I cave under the pressure and say yes, then the man holding me will have succeeded in his plan.

Right now, the truth isn’t important.

Those accusing me genuinely believe it, and those listening start thinking I’m evil.

This chain reaction turns me into a witch. Collective hysteria easily shatters individual identity. Judgment weakens, and people just follow the crowd. This is proper witch-hunting in its truest form—enjoying the torment of a designated victim.

From faded memories, this happens regardless of the era. Take someone like Cyberlec, the infamous inquisitor, for example.

They distinguish between “us” and “them,” declare “they” are evil and “we” are justice, and justify our actions as upholding righteousness while using the process as entertainment.

In short, this guy beating me is his version of righteous punishment—a satisfying scene where the culprit responsible for wrecking the city gets beaten.

Who wouldn’t enjoy it? In fact, if you don’t enjoy it, you might end up experiencing the same fate yourself over there. Everyone enthusiastically joins in, loudly condemning me.

And even if the truth comes out later, it’s easy for him to escape responsibility.

“Meh, who cares?”

“You agreed too, so you’re equally guilty.”

Ironically, the funniest part is that this is actually the better outcome. At least it shows that society’s basic sense of morality still works—doing good feels right, and doing evil feels wrong.

Things get truly dark when that collapses and people start thinking it’s foolish not to do bad deeds.

Anyway…

Peer pressure is impressive.

It’s a cruel trick that’s hard for anyone to withstand.

Yes, for humans, anyway.

My body is now a mess of bruises. My eyeballs are squished, all my teeth are gone, and none of my internal organs are intact.

The surrounding soldiers keep condemning me, and this man persistently torments me, trying to force a confession out of me.

Just some girl.

He probably thinks he can crush her, label her a criminal, execute her, and then pretend it never happened.

Hi hi.

Already connected.

Of course, if warmth is taken away, I could turn into a monster. Who knows what I might do then? I might even expose a fatal weakness of mine.

You’d understand just how horrifying taking away warmth can be.

Yes, so we’re not using that method.

Instead, let’s do this:

“Contact the royal family.”

Even though most of my teeth are gone, I managed to mumble it out, but he understands the meaning well enough.

Furious, the man slaps me across the face with all his strength.

With a crunch, my jawbone shatters, and my face caves in.

But suddenly, everything goes quiet around me.

Ah, no, it’s my eardrums that burst.

Currently, the only functioning sensory organ I have left is touch. Through it, I faintly feel the vibrations in the air.

There’s probably lots of shouting and yelling going on.

My words won’t cause much of a stir. Group hysteria can easily bury such doubts. But a seed of uncertainty has been planted.

The seed has been sown.

I’m dragged somewhere. The last thing I see is the dirt floor. The cold metal grip of the mechanical device releases me, and I float briefly before landing on a cold surface.

By touch, it feels like a bale.

Given the darkness around me, I’m probably inside a tent.

Bell’s body isn’t in immediate danger here. In other words, I can return to normal anytime.

Though I could regenerate right now, doing so would only reignite the mob’s fury. I need more time.

During that time, I witnessed Polaris meeting Victoria.

It was fascinating.

Polaris, having received the address from me, was standing at a barrier he had demolished after confirming the location.

Walking back and forth around the barrier, Polaris eventually realized that Victoria’s house used to stand right in the middle of it.

Polaris collapsed, looking utterly lost, and Victoria approached him.

Since Victoria had verified the numbers herself, she understood why Polaris was sitting there.

The sea that had been dripping slowly finally stopped completely.

Polaris stared at Victoria with a horrified expression.

Without a word, Victoria approached Polaris. As Polaris continued to look at her face, he suddenly stood up and told her about my capture.

Victoria gave Polaris a very strange look.

She questioned how I could possibly still be alive with only my hands remaining.

Wait, didn’t Victoria already witness my regeneration multiple times?

No, hmm.

It’s not unreasonable for her to think regenerating from just limb fragments is difficult unless the head or torso remains.

But why does the story shift to suggest Polaris is hallucinating? And why are Polaris’ eyes trembling like that?

Isn’t it weird that Polaris could’ve escaped alone without me earlier?

With a pale face, Polaris stammered, suggesting we search the area first. If there’s no one inside, we should flee elsewhere. After checking, if it’s clear, we’ll leave.

Excuse me? What about me?

Well, it’s fine if you don’t come back for me, but I’m not dead!

Filled with murderous intent, Victoria seemed ready to ignore Polaris, but surprisingly, she began clearing the debris on the ground instead.

By doing this, she silently agreed to leave if nothing is found.

Even if Maurice and Beatrice perished inside, their bodies would’ve already been removed.

Neither of them is in any state to think logically right now.

After searching the rubble and confirming there were no bodies beneath, both of them froze, lost in thought.

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