"Perhaps you could talk to that Duke Hel," Hel suggested.
Hiness's face immediately filled with resistance. Clearly, the idea of suddenly gaining a little uncle who was younger than herself was something she simply could not accept.
Seeing this, Hiness hurriedly changed the subject.
"Oh, right, right—tell me more about that gun you were talking about earlier. I don't know why, but when I heard that word, I felt something strange… like it's somehow important to me."
"Ah, that," Hel said after thinking for a moment.
She didn't bother hiding anything. In a world of magic, firearms really weren't that remarkable. Against those world-destroying transcendents, ordinary people holding guns would only end up being slaughtered.
Magitech weapons, on the other hand, did have some potential—but developing magitech required an enormous investment of resources.
Take the Scholars' Nation's Alchemy Academy, for example. Most of what they produced was civilian technology, with very few military-grade magitech weapons.
The main reason was simple: the cost–benefit ratio was terrible.
Whether low-tier or high-tier magitech weapons, their energy source was elemental crystals. But using an elemental crystal—something that could nurture a powerful expert—as a one-time disposable energy source… what nation's leadership would be willing to accept that?
As a result, the Alchemy Academy's primary research focus had long shifted toward civilian engineering: how to obtain greater benefits at lower costs.
After finishing her explanation, Hel snatched the teacup from Hiness's hands, refilled her own cup, and took a sip to moisten her throat before concluding:
"So in the end, personal strength is what really matters. The power of manufactured weapons just isn't enough to count for much. They're fine against low-tier transcendents, but the moment you run into high-tier ones, you're done for."
"Oh~ I see," Hiness said.
Clearly, she hadn't heard a word of Hel's latter half. She had already sunk deep into her own thoughts, staring at the tips of her shoes in silence for a long time.
Hel and Leflina didn't disturb her. They exchanged a glance and smiled helplessly.
What Hel didn't notice, however, was that at some point the hollow steel tube—the one that had tripped Leflina earlier—had rolled to Hiness's feet.
Hiness stared at the tube. Deep in her eyes, a flicker of violet light flashed past.
Then she murmured softly,
"So that's how it is."
...
The next few days passed peacefully.
Leflina was busy spreading her ideas around the academy. Although she was still ostracized by members of the Spark Society led by Fubot, and was repeatedly summoned by senior Mortia for "heart-to-heart talks," she continued to stand by her beliefs.
Despite her efforts, no one truly acknowledged her ideas—but she did manage to spark curiosity in more people.
Especially among the newly enrolled students.
Their minds had yet to solidify, and they were more than willing to listen to different perspectives.
Tina, meanwhile, continued working for Hel as usual, fully embodying the role of a worker seemingly blessed by fate.
After Hel assigned her some subordinates and brought in a few of Tina's old companions to help, her workload eased considerably.
The forty percent of shares that Hiness had returned were handed over by Hel to Tina as compensation for her diligence over these past days.
As for Hiness—
Ever since that night-time conversation with Hel, she had shut herself away in her room and hadn't come out once. No one knew what she was tinkering with.
According to Leflina, the reason Hiness had been sleeping in the living room was because she had converted her own bedroom into a small workshop. Even the bed had been removed.
And in such an environment, Hiness had thrown herself in completely and never come out again—which, when you thought about it, was downright absurd.
While her roommates were grinding themselves to exhaustion, Hel herself ended up relatively relaxed.
When she had classes, she attended them. When she didn't, she went out to the spell-array construction camp outside the city to help—and quietly left behind a few hidden backdoors within the arrays.
With Hel's level of skill, the old professors truly couldn't tell.
Still, she couldn't discern the array's true purpose.
Structurally, it was indeed related to life magic, but it didn't match any plague-curing spells she remembered. Nor was it a spell meant to expand the Healing Authority.
At one point, Hel had suspected that John Remedy's magic was some kind of amplifier for the Healing Authority.
But after she herself obtained the Healing Authority, she overturned that hypothesis.
Not only did the array lack any runic structures related to authority expansion—it actually contained runes meant for energy collection.
This led Hel to suspect that John was using the Healing Witch as bait, with the real goal of drawing out more witches.
Unfortunately for him, the city had remained calm these days.
At the very least, Hel hadn't encountered any of the witches she'd met before since then.
And so, the peaceful days continued—
Until the second Sunday after Hel's semester began.
A ragged beggar stepped through the doors of the church.
Inside the administrative hall of Savant City Cathedral, a warm fireplace crackled as applewood logs burned, sending out sharp popping sounds.
John Remedy, the envoy from the Holy See, sat in the chair reserved for high bishops.
Before him stood two people: Savant City's high bishop, and an old beggar whose face bore the marks of countless hardships.
John stared darkly at the beggar and spoke in a decidedly unfriendly tone:
"You're saying that in Chui-de City, you encountered an attack by an unknown witch—and that York helped you draw away the pursuers?"
"That is correct, Lord Envoy," the old beggar replied.
This beggar was none other than Old Chui-de, who had gone through untold hardships to make his way back. He lowered his gaze, neither servile nor defiant.
The Healing Witch now resided within his mindscape. With that alone, he held a portion of bargaining power—enough to earn him a place of importance under John.
John merely glanced at him indifferently, then spoke coldly toward the side:
"Yorkson."
As his voice fell, the fireplace erupted in a violent crackle. From within the flames, a human face formed entirely of fire.
"What is going on here," John asked, his voice icy—laced with barely restrained anger.