Chapter 144: Silent Wailing

A violent wind swept through the canyon, carrying sand and dust as it lifted strands of snow-white hair.

The girl stood there, staring at the figure before her—like someone who had lost her soul.

Under the shade of the tree, she simply gazed blankly, not speaking a single word for a long time.

The wind howled mournfully through the canyon, blowing into Peleti’s ears, as if grieving for Elisa’s death.

Feiye stood nearby, holding the girl’s cloak in her arms.

This state of Peleti felt unfamiliar to her—

Yet also strangely familiar.

As if the one standing there wasn’t Peleti at all…

But someone else.

Someone named Qingcheng.

Amid the raging wind, chaotic noise suddenly emerged—hoofbeats mixed with restless shouting.

They had arrived.

Even without Peleti saying a word, Feiye knew exactly who could push her to this point.

But she wasn’t worried.

The reason Josuna had been so arrogant before… was because Feiye wasn’t there.

Now that she was—

Even without fully recovering her strength, dealing with a group of humans was more than enough.

Peleti’s body trembled almost imperceptibly.

Within her hollow golden eyes—

Something shifted.

With a faint click—

Not awakening—

But like molten lava finding a crack to erupt through.

The sound of hooves drew near.

Anasha led the charge.

She saw the small yet resolute white-haired figure rushing toward her. A flicker of complexity crossed her eyes—only to be replaced by cold resolve.

She seized a specially crafted spear from her adjutant, pouring magic into it. Sparks ignited at the tip, trailing a blazing streak of light behind her.

Whoosh—!

With a powerful motion, she hurled the flaming spear.

The air screamed as it tore through.

Orange-red flames roared and expanded, transforming into a monstrous beast that lunged toward the tiny figure.

The firelight rapidly expanded in Peleti’s pupils—

Overlapping with another sea of flames buried deep in her memory—

Charred wood.

Raging fire.

And a hoarse, desperate voice screaming:

Run!

It was fear carved into her soul—

A trembling etched into her very blood.

Run as fast as you can!!!

Facing the devouring inferno, a broken roar forced its way from her throat—

Her speed increasing even further.

She clenched her fist—

Pouring all her strength, her surging grief and fury, and that desperate will to protect—

Into a single punch—

And smashed it straight into the roaring spear of flames!

BOOOOOOM—!!!

A violent explosion erupted where Peleti stood.

Blazing heat waves swept across everyone’s faces.

Anasha reined in her horse, her pupils shrinking.

The next moment—

A charred figure burst through the flames and smoke!

Peleti’s entire right sleeve had been destroyed, her skin scorched and cracked—

Yet under a faint golden glow, it rapidly healed.

She didn’t slow down.

Her eyes were locked onto Anasha atop her horse—

No longer soft or timid—

But filled with beast-like madness and hatred.

Everyone held their breath.

She blocked it?

Without using magic.

Without defense.

Purely with her own body.

Peleti—who feared fire—

Had blocked that attack?

Shock and disbelief flooded everyone present.

Anasha signaled for the others not to approach.

Against Peleti, they would only get in her way.

She could see the fury in Peleti’s eyes—

A fury that seemed ready to tear her apart.

And how could Anasha not understand that anger?

But before greater interests—

The sacrifice of a few was necessary.

The Empire was already crumbling beneath its surface. Even facing the Church of Gluttony stretched it thin.

If they also turned their attention to the beastfolk, it would only hasten its decline.

Capturing Peleti served this exact purpose.

The Church’s light magic was stolen—far inferior to hers.

The Empire desperately needed a way to grow stronger.

And right now—

Peleti was the closest path.

Call her hypocritical.

Call her despicable.

As a member of the tuning squad—

She had duties she could not abandon.

The warhorse charged.

Two figures rapidly closed the distance.

At the last moment, Peleti leapt.

Her charred left fist smashed aside a snake-like stream of fire—

Her right hand, ignoring the pain, grabbed the blade Anasha swung at her!

Using the momentum, she twisted—

Her knee slammed into Anasha’s chest armor.

Both of them tumbled off the startled horse, crashing into the dirt.

Before Anasha could recover—

Peleti was already on top of her.

Straddling her—

One trembling hand, stained with blood and dust, clenched tightly at her collar.

“She’s just a child… what crime did she commit…?”

“She’s just a child! She doesn’t understand anything! She just wanted justice for her father—what crime did she commit?!”

The first punch fell—

Crashing against Anasha’s hastily raised arm, bones creaking under the strain.

“Why can nobles who treat lives like dirt sleep peacefully?!”

The second punch—

Slipped through her guard, grazing her cheek and drawing blood.

“Why do kind people die unjustly—and get forgotten by the world?!”

The third. The fourth.

Her fists fell like a violent hailstorm—

Carrying all her rage, helplessness, and regret—

Pouring onto Anasha.

Anasha tried to gather magic to counterattack—

But every time she did—

It was crushed by even more violent blows.

Then—

She felt a drop of water fall onto her face.

A tear.

She saw Peleti’s face—

Twisted in pain.

Tears streamed uncontrollably from her furious eyes.

The light of healing magic flickered wildly over both of them—

Healing flesh—

But unable to mend what was broken inside.

Peleti forced aside Anasha’s guard—

Continuing to strike without restraint.

“She did nothing wrong—what right do you have to judge her?!!!”

Another heavy blow landed.

The surrounding soldiers watched in silent terror.

Their invincible leader—

Pinned to the ground—

Beaten without resistance.

So this—

Was the true power of the Witch of Light?

Only when she was utterly exhausted—

When she could no longer lift her fists—

Did it stop.

Anasha coughed up blood, looking up through swollen eyes at the broken girl above her.

Her voice was low from pain—

Yet calm.

“She had no crime… Peleti.”

“The guilty one… is this Empire that requires sacrifice to survive.”

“Their deaths… were a necessary price.”

“…A price?”

It was as if those words drained all strength from Peleti.

She rolled off Anasha, collapsing weakly to the side.

Struggling to her feet, like a puppet with cut strings—

She staggered back to Elisa—

And fell to her knees.

She had been wrong.

She thought Elisa had let go of her anger.

How naïve.

To believe the chosen of the God of Wrath could abandon wrath—

To underestimate a child’s resolve to avenge her father.

If she had just killed them all back then—

If she had stayed by Elisa’s side—

Would Elisa still be alive?

But this world had no “what ifs.”

What happened—

Could not be undone.

“A chosen of the God of Wrath… and yet reduced to this fate…”

Her voice grew softer—

Until it was nearly carried away by the wind.

Then—

She froze.

The chosen of Wrath…

What about her?

She raised her hand, staring at the light element flickering in her palm.

A trace of madness flashed in her eyes.

She too—

Was chosen.

If humans couldn’t change fate—

Then what about gods?

Slowly, Peleti knelt.

Hands clasped, pressed against her forehead.

She whispered the name etched into her soul—

“If calling a true name really brings a response…”

She took a deep breath—

And shouted with all her strength:

“Rogue!”

One second…

Ten seconds…

One minute…

Five minutes…

She waited.

But no voice answered.

No hand touched her shoulder.

If calling a true name could summon a god—

Then these church-worshipped deities had never truly acknowledged them.

How could they possibly understand anything about gods?

In the end…

It was nothing more than blind devotion.

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