"This is not like a prison," Isabella thought, if she did not look down at the shackles on her wrists and feet.
Ever since she told them that the cage made of God's Stone of Retaliation was ineffective against her, she had been moved to an ordinary bedroom guarded by guards. After moving to the Western Region of Graycastle, her "cell" had not changed much. It was neither damp nor cold, nor was there any rancid dirty water flowing freely. In the empty room, there was only a bed and a bench, and a small cubicle as a toilet. The windows were sealed with iron bars, but it did not prevent the warm sunlight from shining in. In general, it was much better than the secret prison of the Pivotal Secret Agency.
Isabella had thought that she would receive some "normal" treatment as a prisoner of war, especially since the outstanding appearance of witches was easy to attract extra covetous eyes. However, nothing happened — there were guards outside the door at all times, but no one sneaked into the room in the middle of the night, nor did they humiliate or beat her. Except for delivering her meals on time every day, they hardly said a word.
The witch who claimed to be from the Union more than 400 years ago would often come to see her, accompanied by a blonde witch shrouded in the shadow of a hood. No matter what they asked, Isabella would answer truthfully. She even asked for a pen and paper from the two witches. When she had nothing to do, she would transcribe some secret history or demon literature that she had read in the Temple Library.
During this period, there was no torture as she had expected. She could tell that the blonde witch wanted to make trouble for her, but every time she answered the questions in detail, the witch would leave with a cold face, which made her quite puzzled.
Of course, Isabella did not think that these witches were naive enough to believe everything she said. Judging from the reaction of the two witches during the interrogation, at least one of them could detect lies. Was it possible that the blonde witch was waiting for her to lie? This was also what confused her — there were countless excuses to punish her, or there was no need to find one at all. Why bother?
However, as the days passed, her heart also sank.
It had been almost two months. Why hadn't Roland Wimbledon appeared?
There could only be two answers. Either the king had not woken up yet, or he did not intend to see her at all. Either way, it was not good news for Isabella. Perhaps when she confessed everything she knew, what awaited her would be a sentence of death.
Although she was willing to give up everything to fight against the demons and had no complaints about the result, waiting for death to approach still made her feel mentally and physically exhausted.
Isabella sighed and dragged her shackles to sit on the edge of the bed. She picked up her quill and clumsily spread out a new piece of white paper on her lap. The sooner she finished what she remembered, the sooner she would be able to enjoy her release.
At this moment, footsteps could be heard outside the house.
The voices were a little chaotic. Clearly, there were more than two people.
Isabella's heart trembled slightly.
When the door was pushed open, she put down her pen and turned around. She found that in addition to the two witches that she usually saw, there was also a gray-haired man. If the information was correct, he should be the fourth prince of the Wimbledon Family, the current King of Graycastle.
Roland Wimbledon woke up?
Or was he here to pass judgment on her?
Isabella stood up and curtsied.
"I thought you wouldn't come to see me," she said, pretending to be calm.
"You're the Isabella that made the God's Stone of Retaliation I wear lose its effect... I didn't want to deliberately delay until now. It's just that I had a long dream and just woke up not long ago." The calm tone of the other party surprised her greatly, and the content of the story surprised her even more. "In the dream, I fought with the Pure Witch and finally won, but it wasn't like what she said, where the winner won everything — whether it was knowledge or skills."
"That's impossible!" Isabella could not help but blurt out.
"Why?" Roland asked with great interest. "Can't it be that a man can't awaken as a witch, so he can't inherit everything from her?"
"It has nothing to do with gender." She shook her head. "The spoils of war that the winner of the Soul Battlefield can obtain are memory and lifespan, which everyone has. But the unique ability of witches can't be absorbed, and magic power can't be increased out of thin air. Otherwise, Zero would have swallowed me long ago. In other words, only creatures with these two characteristics can be included in the Soul Battlefield. "
"You mean... there's a creature that she can't invade?"
"Of course, animals without intelligence can't enter the Soul Battlefield," Isabella explained. "Even if they win, they can't understand the human memory."
"That could also be because of the different races."
"As far as I know, among the thousands of souls she swallowed, there were demons and demonic hybrids." She sighed. "But these things happened before I was born, and she mentioned it when I was chatting with her."
The three people on the opposite side could not help but look at each other. "Demons and... demonic beasts?"
"Why didn't you tell me before?" the blonde witch asked.
"Because this information will only increase your worries and won't help solve the problem," Isabella said slowly. "Even Zero felt that the memory of a heterogeneous species was too crazy and would cause a great burden on her, so she didn't try anything similar after that."
"That's a little interesting." The king did not show an expression of lingering fear. Instead, he raised the corner of his mouth. "By the way, did Zero ever mention to you what happens to the losers in the Soul Battlefield?"
"Completely disappears, as if they never existed."
"Is there no difference?" He raised his eyebrows. "For example, those who surrender voluntarily and those who fight to the death, the result is the same?"
"No matter which one it is, it will disappear, but..." Isabella pondered and replied, "Zero seems to have said that the memories she absorbed are divided into two kinds."
"Which two kinds?" Roland seemed to be particularly interested in this question.
"One kind is chaotic and has a residual consciousness, which will affect Zero herself, and the other kind is complete and placed there for her to look through." She paused. "The former is more difficult to recall and easier to forget... At that time, she just mentioned it casually, so I didn't ask much. But it's the first time I've seen someone like you who doesn't accept a trace of memory at all."
This time, the silence was longer. The king closed his eyes and did not speak for a long time, as if he was thinking about an extremely complicated problem, and his brows furrowed undisguisedly. After about a quarter of an hour, he let out a long sigh. "I see."
"What did he figure out?"
Although Isabella was curious, she did not ask.
She knew her identity.
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