Summoned a God by Mistake, Now He Won’t Go Back - Chapter 78

As Aldehallow’s new guardian, Virelda made her decision.

Whether it would truly take only a few days—or half a month, or even a month—no one could say for certain. She had mixed in a bit of bravado. It was necessary to steady people’s fears and reignite their fighting spirit.

A guardian had to appear calm and strong at all times. Just like the one she had always admired.

“So if they attack tomorrow? Or even tonight? Then we’re completely unprepared.”

But instead of reassurance, the witches responded with doubt.

“Just being able to move the golems’ limbs isn’t enough. To control them like Lady Merga does requires experience.”

“I know that. I know I can’t do it like her yet. But I’ll push myself as far as I can—”

“There’s no end to their numbers! We should fly out on brooms while we still can!”

The silver-haired witch who had first suggested fleeing cut her off.

“I’ll say this again—we’re not going any—”

“Fay should lead us! Let’s go to that man’s homeland. There has to be land beyond the sea!”

“Wait. I’m not guiding anyone anywhere. Didn’t you hear what Virelda said?”

Fay raised her voice, repeating Virelda’s decision. They weren’t going anywhere. But her words were swallowed by the noise.

“So witches aren’t that impressive after all.”

Someone muttered loudly enough for many to hear.

The witches’ expressions darkened.

“You strut around acting superior, and now all you can think about is running?”

It was Billter, the carpenter who had once built Fay a bathtub. He snorted openly, especially at the silver-haired witch.

Others who had been quietly anxious began to side with him.

“Fine, you fly off on brooms. What about the rest of us who can’t?”

“Yeah! Are you planning to abandon the non-witches?”

“Who said we’d leave you? We can carry people on the brooms!”

The witches rose to their feet at being called cowards.

“Oh? And what about the injured who can’t ride?”

“And the livestock we raise?”

“Do you have any idea how long it would take to transport everyone?”

Whether or not land existed beyond the sea, the plan was practically impossible.

Even the witches who had insisted on fleeing—and those who had half-heartedly considered it—fell silent.

“If I’d known this meeting would just be a bunch of wishful thinking about lands that may not even exist, I wouldn’t have come.”

Riding on the atmosphere, the townspeople harshly criticized the witches for having no concrete solution. Normally only a few representatives would attend these meetings. But today, there were unusually many people present, and the noise was overwhelming.

Hadn’t they complained before that councils were mostly witches, with hardly any ordinary citizens present?

Virelda had invited more civilians this time, mindful of that criticism.

“Well then, if you’ve got a better idea, say it!”

“Yeah! We risked our lives protecting you, so why the complaints?”

“Protect us? You think we’re not fighting out there?”

“You think witches are the only ones dying in this war? We’ve risked our lives for our families too!”

The meeting, which was already on the brink of chaos, devolved into shouting between witches and ordinary citizens.

For the first time, Virelda wondered if inviting more people had been a mistake.

“Lady Merga…”

Today more than ever, she felt how far she still was from her predecessor.

Fay watched Virelda’s back seem smaller and smaller. She wanted to help, to support her. But there was nothing she could do except weakly call for calm.

“Fay!”

Suddenly, a witch burst into the dining hall. She hadn’t attended the meeting because she’d been tending to the wounded.

“The lover you burned—he’s back! And he’s carrying something strange…!”

The arguing voices died down as everyone turned toward the entrance.

Moments later, Alnazir walked in.

Fay, who had believed he was still captive, shot to her feet in shock.

He ignored everyone else and walked straight toward her, a black sack dangling from his hand.

Under his steady gaze, Fay shrank back instinctively, gripping her wand tightly. She didn’t know when tentacles might lash out.

“You’re still angry, I see.”

As if he had expected her cold reaction, Alnazir let out a faint chuckle and reached into the sack and pulled something out and held it up in front of her.

“I figured as much. So I brought you a gift.”

It was the severed head of a middle-aged man.