Liam flipped the Shadow Assassin's body over, pressing his hand against the assassin's ribcage before carefully checking his arm.
"He's completely recovered, sir!" Liam reported in astonishment. "Even the rib that was previously broken has regrown, and the tendons in his arm are fully intact."
"It's like he was never injured at all," Liam added, his tone filled with admiration.
"I told you, didn't I? The potion's effects are astonishing but no one knows what it's made of," the witch said gleefully, clearly taking pleasure in others' frustration. "On the black market, this stuff is selling like crazy. In fact, the Church has already sent people to investigate it in secret. Ever since this powerful healing potion appeared, the market prices for holy water and healing scrolls have dropped by more than ten percent!"
"Do you have more of it?" The Witcher gave a subtle glance toward the female warrior, who quietly pocketed the vial. "If we had enough of these potions, our success rate for this operation would increase dramatically."
"In your dreams. That was the only bottle I had," the witch replied, shaking her head and dashing Aldric's hopes. "If you manage to complete the mission, the Witch Coven still has a small stockpile. They could use it as part of your mission reward. We spent an entire month analyzing the potion but learned nothing. The only way to get more is to buy it from smugglers at an outrageous price."
"You heard her, Colin," the Witcher said, turning to the former Shadow Assassin with a faint smirk. "They're the only ones who have it. But if you cooperate and help us with this mission, I'll give you one bottle myself—in addition to the money I already promised you."
He knew gamblers who'd lost everything were always the easiest to bait.
"You're all insane," the Shadow Assassin spat, pushing himself up and shifting to lean against the wall. "You have no idea how terrifying those nuns really are. They'll burn you all alive."
The Witcher raised the [Leomund's Secret Treasure Chamber], a spatial pouch that once belonged to the assassin himself. "I don't need you to fight the nuns head-on. I don't need you to assassinate any leaders, either. All I need is for you to infiltrate the Black Ship, locate where those unfortunate girls are being held, and mark the route with clear signs. Then make sure they stay alive until we get there. After that, it's no longer your concern."
The Shadow Assassin's eyes lingered on the bag, his former possession, as he bit his lip. "If—and I mean if—you fail to get on board, what should I do? Once I find them, how long do I have to wait?"
"Ten minutes, my friend," the Witcher replied decisively. "Whether we succeed or not, once you find them, just keep them safe for ten minutes. After that, your job's done. When the ten minutes are up, whether we've arrived or not, you can withdraw from the battlefield."
The assassin hesitated for a long moment, torn between danger and poverty. Finally, he chose the former.
"Fine. Ten minutes. I'll take the job."
The Witcher didn't bother responding further. In his plan, the assassin was only one small piece of the puzzle, a minor one at that. "Mr. Bart," he said, turning to the knight, "I'll need your daughter to unleash a strong enough energy burst at this location—something powerful enough to draw the nuns' attention."
He pointed at a warehouse circled on the map, a site carefully chosen for its distance from the port—not too close, not too far. It was far enough that the nuns wouldn't suspect it was a diversion, but close enough to delay any reinforcements returning to the Black Ship.
Moreover, the area had once been hit by a Chaos corruption incident, leaving the surroundings cleared of civilians by the Paladins. The empty warehouse ensured no innocent lives would be harmed.
"Can it be done?" he asked the witch this time. "We need Carla here to attract the nuns' attention, make them send a team here to capture the Child of Calamity and weaken the defenses of the Black Ship."
"No problem," the witch replied confidently. "I can guide her to release her power, make it look like she's losing control during awakening. I can even create enough magical interference to make the nuns think another witch is secretly helping her suppress it."
"Is it safe?" the Witcher asked seriously. "You'll need to hold their attention until we finish our part of the mission. I don't want any casualties. I've given my word to this gentleman." He nodded toward Knight Bart.
"It's necessary," the witch said firmly. "I helped the girl before, which means the frequency of her energy waves is already different from those of wild Awakened. The nuns are probably suspicious that someone has been aiding her. By faking an Awakening outbreak, we'll divert their focus." She pointed to the location on the map.
"The best approach," she continued, "is exactly what I said before—make them think an uncontrollable Epsilon-level Child of Calamity has appeared here, aided by an inexperienced novice witch. I'll ensure their safety. A witch's grasp of spatial magic far surpasses that of other transcendents. The moment you succeed, I'll teleport us out."
The Witcher nodded, acknowledging her reasoning. Then he turned to the man whose decision would ultimately determine the plan's execution.
"What do you think, sir?"
Knight Bart looked at his daughter, then at the confident Witcher. "Commander," he said after a pause, "I have only one request—I want someone I can absolutely trust to watch my back."
He then pointed across the room at Liam. Carla, the young girl, followed her father's gesture, her wide eyes landing on the young Cerysian warrior. To her, tonight's operation felt less like a deadly mission and more like an exciting adventure—one accompanied by her father and the knightly figure she quietly admired.
The Witcher hesitated. In his original plan, Liam was a key member of the assault team, the blade's sturdy core while Vittoria and he himself were its two cutting edges. Together, they were supposed to launch a lightning-fast strike and rescue the hostages before the Black Ship's defenses could even react.
After all, although Liam wasn't as powerful as the female warrior, his coordination and discipline, honed through the same elite training, made him even more reliable in execution.
Liam himself felt torn. But with his political commissar present, he decided not to overthink it. Following orders—that's what soldiers do, he reminded himself. Simple as that.
Clinging to that somewhat irresponsible logic, he continued his "surveillance" of the idle assassin, subtly avoiding the young girl's gaze. Truthfully, he was terrified. Every time he recalled the moment she had thrown herself into his arms earlier, his heart skipped a beat. Damn it, this time I'm flirting with death itself, he thought grimly.
Before the Witcher could make his final decision, a series of rhythmic knocks echoed from the door—three knocks at a time, repeated thrice.
A calm, refined voice spoke from outside.
"Is anyone home? My name is Elias Tang."
(End of Chapter)