In the early morning, everyone packed up their camping gear and set off again.
Roland noticed another detail: even when sleeping in the wilderness, the witches 'appearances remained perfectly intact, something he clearly couldn't manage. Without looking in the mirror, he could tell his hair was in complete disarray, his face pale from sleepless nights, and his skin covered in slightly damp sweat that felt slightly sticky to the touch—making him look utterly listless to everyone. Only after rinsing his face with the water from the leather bag did he feel somewhat better.
Roland began to miss the castle's running water system and the spacious shower room.
Half an hour later, the Voyager followed Lightning's instructions and arrived at the designated spot—beside the snow-capped mountains. Suspended over the vast ocean, the crew could already see the scenery behind the peaks.
As Lightning had described, the snow-capped mountains were shrouded in a crimson mist that hung low, its hue deepening with altitude. To see farther, Roland urged the hot air balloon to ascend, and the land at the horizon gradually unfolded before their eyes.
"Did you find anything?" He looked at Sylvie.
The latter shook his head. "No, it's too far—beyond the Real Eye's range of observation," he said. "We'll get closer once Soraya has sketched this scene," Roland replied.
While Soroya was sketching the scene, he kept his binoculars fixed on the coastline. The shore stretched with sheer cliffs and rocky outcrops, devoid of any man-made structures like piers or shipyards. Even if the Devil had existed, they would never have conceived of building vessels to attack Graycastle from the sea. This observation brought him a slight sense of relief.
As the hot air balloon approached the shore, Sylvie finally began to describe what she had seen—about ten miles from the coast, she spotted a triangular formation of black stones, resembling a series of spires.
"It's like a mirage in the wilderness," Wendy exclaimed in surprise. "This is truly the Devil's domain!" "But the elevation doesn't add up," Soraya frowned. "The spires in mirages are hundreds of feet tall—red mist can't obscure them. They should be higher than the rolling hills." "Maybe you're seeing the Devil's city, and this is just a village?" Anna mused.
So Devil has a complete and unique urban system, belonging to a highly evolved group, and is obsessed with expansion and killing? Roland thought to himself, please, don't be like this. "What's inside those spires?" "Hmm... most spires are empty, some seem to be filled with liquid... wait," Sylvie froze, then said in disbelief, "Hurry, Devil found us!" "Found?" Roland raised his binoculars to scan, but it was still a dark red, nothing could be seen clearly.
"They're moving!" Sylvie shouted nervously. "They were all buried underground before, only the pipes on their backs were exposed. Over there... Devil's flying!" "Wendy, retreat at full speed!" Roland ordered.
A fierce wind suddenly arose, causing the hot air balloon to move violently and tilt the basket, while the taut ropes creaked under the strain.
But Sylvie's warning sent a chill through everyone.
"Two Devils are charging at us on flying mounts!" Good grief, these guys actually have airborne mounts? Roland stared in disbelief. This was absurd—how could a mount be massive enough to carry a burly man?
But soon, he spotted two black dots in his field of vision. Through the scope, he saw their mounts with pointed snouts and fangs, completely hairless—utterly unrecognizable as birds. If his eyes were not deceiving him... these were two hybrid demonic beasts!
"Lower altitude, land as soon as possible." Roland managed to squeeze out a few words through clenched teeth.
I had completely underestimated the situation. I never imagined the Devil could launch aerial assaults, while our only aerial combat capability was Lightning. Her pale complexion made it clear this battle was hopeless. If caught, even a simple ramming attack on the balloon could kill the Witches—despite the coating's resistance to the beast's impact and bites, the violent shaking might fling them out of the basket, leaving them to crash onto the sea like stones.
The drop from this height is no different from the sea to the land.
As the Devil drew nearer to the hot air balloon, Roland could already see the hybrid demon's massive wings and the towering enemy on its back without needing binoculars.
"Watch out!" Sylvie screamed again. "They're about to hurl their spear!" The warning instantly brought back the battle scene Ye had described—the very way the enemy had taken Chitong's life in an instant.
He failed to notice Devil's arms swelling instantly, nor the spear lunging at him. As Sylvie sounded the alarm, Anna had already reached out, channeling the black fire into a thin veil that blocked the hanging basket.
Then came two loud bangs.
With a muffled groan, Anna took two backward steps. The black fire shattered like glass, leaving only a half-burnt iron shaft of the spear, which rolled toward the sea.
She blocked the attack with a dense black fire curtain.
The Witches breathed a collective sigh of relief, though Roland remained on edge—their ability's mechanism would drain Anna's Magic Power like a drain. Having observed during steel smelting, Roland had noted that while heating or cutting barely depleted her immense Magic Power, its macroscopic application as a cohesive force exponentially increased consumption. For instance, using the Black Fire as a furnace to contain molten steel would rapidly deplete its reserves. Even Anna couldn't sustain the entire Black Fire furnace for more than a few minutes.
Clearly, the earlier blockage had taken a heavy toll on her. If she had to endure two more attempts, she might not even be able to sustain the heating.
The Devil, visibly shaken by the scene, refrained from immediate retaliation. Instead, it darted past the hot air balloons from both sides, poised for its next strike. Roland, for the first time, glimpsed the enemy's grotesque features up close—identical to those in the photographs: demonic beast masks, crimson crystal eyes, and a leather tube connecting the chin to the shell that wound around the neck.
During this period, the witches drew their pistols to retaliate. However, with the hanging basket swaying uncontrollably, hitting a fast-moving enemy was nearly impossible. After firing two rounds, not a single shot struck the target.
Just then, Devil's arms expanded again, this time attacking from both front and rear.
Before Anna could even glance at the enemy behind her, the summoned black fire only partially obscured the view. Roland clearly saw Devil's right arm swinging toward her, but the spear's trajectory remained invisible. Almost instinctively, he pushed away Anna, who was standing with her back to him. Then, as if struck by a hammer, his shoulder was shattered, sending him flying backward and crashing into the basket wall.
He was overcome by a sharp pain that tore through his body, followed by a strong sense of dizziness and a feeling that his consciousness was drifting away.
Roland gritted his teeth and turned his head, only to see a gaping hole in his shoulder—the wind tunnel in the back basket was proof of the blow's force.
The arm, torn apart by the attack, lay in the basket's corner, its blood staining the clothes red.
"No!" The nightingale's heart-wrenching cry was the last sound he heard before losing consciousness.