Chapter 14: Graycloud Fortress
Funis could hardly believe her ears.
Just as she tried to rise from the witch’s embrace, she realized her waist was being held tightly.
Chescia took the chance to scoop up the defenseless silver-haired girl by the back of her knees, placing her gently on her lap. She inhaled the fresh scent of her hair and shamelessly caressed her all over.
Funis tried to resist, but eventually gave up and let the witch have her way.
“Go collect it yourself… You mean you’re letting me out? Alone, even?” To avoid overthinking, Funis felt the need to confirm again.
“Of course. I’m afraid you’ll suffocate if I don’t.” Chescia produced an exquisitely crafted ivory comb inlaid with rubies from who-knows-where and began brushing Funis’s long hair from behind. “Fresh air, hands-on experience—these are essential. Don’t you think so?”
“I… I don’t object…” Feeling the comb glide gently through her hair, Funis stopped struggling and tucked her neck in, settling down. “But aren’t you worried I might run away?”
“I am. Every night before I fall asleep, I want to hold you close—only then do those annoying Whispers quiet a little. I can’t live without you.” Chescia whispered, “But I made a promise to you—I said I’d cultivate you, and keeping you in the palm of my hand won’t help you grow.”
Funis clenched her soft little fists and bowed her head in silence.
“Besides, I never said you’d truly be acting alone. I’ll be with you, just not interfering,” Chescia said mildly as she continued to brush her hair with gentle, practiced hands. “And if you do run, I can always catch you again—just a leggy cuddle pillow, after all.”
Funis clenched her fists even tighter, puffing out her cheeks in frustration.
“Perhaps think again—where could you even go now?” The witch’s tone suddenly turned cold.
Silence.
The wind slapped against the windowpanes.
Funis felt a chill down her back and across her brow.
She had considered where she might escape to, if she had the chance.
But she was a witch now—a young, physically distinct and delicate one at that. The Church would never take her back. They might imprison or interrogate her. The cities were crawling with hunters and enforcers. In the wild, she didn’t have the skills to survive alone.
And she needed to grow stronger—strong enough to kill Chescia with her own hands.
She would return here eventually.
Return to the witch who had changed her life.
Just as Chescia couldn’t let her go, she too could no longer truly escape Chescia’s grasp. They were intertwined, dependent.
She was resentful.
But she could only accept it.
“I understand, Miss Witch.” The silver-haired girl bit her lip and trembled softly as she spoke.
“Hold your head high—be confident. There’s no girl in the world more captivating than you. Don’t show such timid hesitation out there,” Chescia lifted Funis’s chin from behind. “One day, you’ll represent the Black Rose Society on the world stage. I’ve always trained and educated you to that standard.”
“I understand, Miss Witch.” The silver-haired girl pursed her lips and shook her head like a spoiled child.
Funis wasn’t a child. She couldn’t possibly miss Chescia’s intentions and expectations.
The more Chescia valued her, the more anxious and fearful she became. That hazy, foreseeable future—was not the future Funis wanted.
“Let’s get back to the potion material.” Chescia put away the comb and refilled her cup with tea. “Witch Path potions don’t always follow a fixed formula—random ingredients can sometimes yield the same result. But for the Eighth Sequence, there is a generally recognized, relatively stable recipe.”
Funis instantly forgot her earlier upset, curiosity lighting up her face as she turned to Chescia.
“I’m listening, Miss Witch.”
“70 ml of pure water, 2 grams of silver-winged cicada scale powder, 4 grams of ice branch flower leaves, 8 grams of iron-gray rock powder,” Chescia shook a small aluminum tin and poured its milk into her tea, “One mogu bone fish eyeball, and as much sword-rust secretion from a blackblade lizard as you can gather. Mix, stir, simmer on moderate heat for five minutes, and it’s ready fresh.”
“The freezing properties of the ice branch flower and the intense boiling trait of iron-gray rock... such a chaotic recipe. Can this really be ingested?” Funis frowned.
“Because the Witch Path encompasses traits from all Fourteen Paths yet belongs to none, its potion formulas are often counterintuitive,” Chescia replied as she tore open another sugar packet.
“And the blackblade lizard... I remember that’s a creature embodying the Sixth Sequence of the Wrath Path, the ‘Inciter’ trait. Its spinal fluid is used for making the ‘Inciter’ potion.” Funis propped her chin, thinking seriously. “So a Sixth Sequence-level Transcendent creature’s material is used for a Witch Path Eighth Sequence potion? And sword-rust secretion... I’ve never heard of that being used as a Transcendent material…”
“Ugh—!”
A soft yelp escaped her—pain on her head.
Chescia had tapped Funis’s forehead. “Don’t overthink it. What were you studying back then? Did the Temperance Court know you secretly studied Sin Path potion formulas?”
“It was just a personal interest,” Funis said innocently, holding her head.
As an enforcer, she had often confiscated Sin Path potions and ingredients from the underworld and occasionally memorized some details.
She knew that interest was risky and improper for someone from the Temperance Court.
But she couldn’t help it.
“So, Miss Witch, what’s the missing ingredient?” Funis asked.
“The sword-rust secretion from the blackblade lizard. It’s not something you can find easily on the market. Since no other girls in the society are due for advancement, we never kept a stock…” Chescia shrugged.
“I have to fight a blackblade lizard? Seriously?” Funis’s eyes widened.
She was still a blank-slate Ninth Sequence with no apparent Transcendent traits. Sending her to battle a Sixth Sequence creature was essentially a death sentence.
“Don’t jump the gun. I’m not done,” Chescia said, stirring her tea before offering the cup to the girl in her lap. “Because this is a widely known stable formula, even the Church knows it’s linked to witches. That means sword-rust secretion only circulates on the black market.”
“Doesn’t sound cheap.”
“Not just expensive—outrageous. The Church’s crackdown has made supply scarce. Black market dealers raise prices as they please.” Chescia handed her the spoon. “Nowadays, even having money isn’t enough—you need connections, introductions, endorsements. They only sell to the willing.”
“So fighting a blackblade lizard might actually be simpler and more cost-effective?” Funis took the spoon.
“No, we’ll steal or rob it from a buyer,” Chescia smiled. “Who in Graycloud Fortress has the most access, the most connections?”
“There are no nobles or royals in the free city-states. The real power lies with the gangs,” Funis sipped the milk-sweetened tea in the witch’s lap. “Mm... You mean they’re secretly cultivating witches? Otherwise, why would they be trafficking Church-banned materials?”
“Exactly right, Miss Enforcer. Your deductive skills haven’t dulled at all. You’re the perfect one for this task,” Chescia said, retrieving a brass plate from beneath the table. The typewriter-like text shimmered clearly. “Abducting young girls, crafting Whispers potions, conducting Whispers Trials in bulk, dumping corpses in the street… The Bloodwine Society is behind this. Our sisters have confirmed it.”
Just a glance made Funis furrow her brows—these were bloody crimes involving human lives.
“Moira, poor girl. We picked her up from a trash heap in Graycloud Fortress half a year ago. Seems now it was the Bloodwine Society that turned her into a witch. But two weeks ago, she vanished on a grocery trip. She never came back, and our sisters can’t find her.” As Funis sipped tea, Chescia played with the little silver bell at the root of her horn.
“Moira…” Funis understood the implication.
Though she avoided mingling with the society’s witches, some were warm and naturally friendly. She remembered that name—because the silver bell she wore at her horn’s base had been a gift from Moira.
“You think her disappearance is linked to the Bloodwine Society too?” Funis simply took the teacup from Chescia.
“It’s connected, regardless,” Chescia said coldly.
Funis no longer cared for ladylike manners. She gulped the tea and set the cup down. “Miss Witch, I’m only interested in my advancement.”
“Of course. I was only mentioning it in passing. But if you happen to care, that’s all the better.” Chescia hummed idly.
The girl leapt from the witch’s lap, turned, and curtseyed. “Thank you for your hospitality, Miss Witch. When do I begin?”
“Start preparing now. Take whatever you think you’ll need. The sooner, the better.”
Chescia didn’t stop her, only traced the edge of the cup where Funis’s lips had touched.
Funis’s face turned bright red—only now realizing it was Chescia’s cup. The witch had already taken a few sips. Their lips had… indirectly touched.
“Wait—don’t leave just yet,” Chescia called out to the flustered girl trying to flee. “Come with me.”
Funis hesitated, then turned back, cheeks flushed, eyes on Chescia.
The witch rose with elegance, her night-silk gown trailing behind her. The girl followed quietly, hands folded before her in noble lady form.
Chescia retrieved a camphor wood box from a side cabinet and placed it in Funis’s hands.
Funis didn’t understand.
But under the witch’s gaze, she opened the lid: a yellowed page of parchment and a silver-gleaming insignia of the Temperance Court.
“I promised a year ago to return them to you,” Chescia said softly. “A promise kept.”
The Codex fragment and Sera Fred’s badge—these had always belonged to Funis. Chescia had kept them for a year, returning them only now.
Funis suddenly felt like crying.
“Be quiet, girl.” Chescia gently grasped the curtain’s edge. “A farewell ceremony—this is important.”
In the dim light, the curtain was slowly drawn back by the witch. Beyond the glass doors was the sky she had not seen in a long time.
But Funis saw no blue sky or white clouds. Through the thick fog, the sunlight was faint. Smokestacks spewed gray fumes, and black snow fell from the clouds.
A massive shadow drifted overhead. She looked up to see the vast, exaggerated city soaring in the sky, breathing steaming vapor like a dragon.
After a year, Funis finally recalled—
Graycloud Fortress was so named for its gray fog, its gray skies, and the airborne city above—where mechanical gears, steam technology, Transcendents, and alchemy all intertwined. A free city-state beyond the Church’s control.
And the true Graycloud Fortress lay beneath them.
The bronze wings flapped by clockwork, propellers hummed low—the Black Rose Society’s hideout was a steam-powered airship, perpetually hovering between the black city below and the sky city above.
From here, everything was in view.
The witch smiled gently.
“Welcome to Graycloud Fortress, Funis.”