I Became a Witch and Started an Industrial Revolution Chapter 58
Miwei stared stubbornly at Fast, refusing to hand over the wounded soldiers.
Fast did not waste words.
He tossed aside the short gun in his hand, still dripping with blood and smoke, then took a rifle from a soldier and raised it, aiming coldly at Miwei.
“Will you hand them over or not?”
【Great Goddess, I thank You. Through Your Spirit You bless me with grace and mercy. Through Your Spirit You renew me, change me, guide me, and make me a child of Your glory…】
A strange and deadly sense of threat radiated from that pitch-black muzzle.
Miwei closed her eyes, forcing herself to steady her heart, silently praying.
“…that I may bear all Your abundance, that I may glorify You, bear witness to You, and before You receive Your complete grace and blessings, that I may also become a blessing to others…”
“Bang!”
Miwei’s body trembled violently, but she did not feel any pain.
Unable to help herself, she opened her eyes.
Fast had shifted the muzzle away from her head, firing instead at another nun beside her.
A single shot blew her head apart, leaving no time for a scream.
“Galeen!”
Miwei cried in anguish, rushing to the body and cradling her.
She was the youngest among their sisters.
When Fast turned the muzzle toward the other nuns, Miwei could not endure it anymore.
“Wait!… Do as he says!”
In the end, Miwei betrayed her own inner principles and bowed her head to reality.
“Heh, that’s better. Wasting my bullets, acting all self-righteous.”
Fast mocked before gathering all the wounded who could still stand.
No one spoke, no one resisted.
The silence was terrifying.
Because that young man’s full name was Fast Hendak.
After a long while, a priest who had just struggled to his feet whispered in her ear: “…Sister Miwei, principles and the spirit of the Church are worth nothing here.”
Miwei sat on the ground holding the cold corpse.
She dared not lift her head to meet the others’ eyes.
She felt as if all her persistence and beliefs had been utterly crushed that day.
Late at night, she tossed and turned sleeplessly.
Finally, she slipped out of the convent and wandered into the streets.
Other than on the first day they had entered the city, she had never again taken a close look at its face.
Now, walking slowly down the streets, she saw little of note, only a sense of desolation.
“Respected Sister, can you help me?”
A man’s voice sounded suddenly at her feet, making her leap back in fright.
A man crawled out from a snowdrift in the corner, both hands raised above his head, grinning awkwardly: “Respected Sister, my child has a fever. Could you please treat her? I can offer tribute!”
Calming her pounding heart, Miwei raised her hands into a spell-casting posture, watching warily: “Who are you? Where is the child? I will not leave with you.”
The man scratched his head.
“My name is Pasha Duke. You don’t need to be afraid. If you agree, I’ll fetch my child right away and bring her here.”
Pasha’s sincerity was plain.
In truth, he had planned to sneak into the convent and drag someone out, but luck was on his side—he had run right into one on the street.
Miwei considered.
“Then go. I’ll wait here. You have only five minutes.”
Overjoyed, Pasha agreed at once, disappearing from her sight within moments.
She had no idea how he vanished so quickly.
Less than three minutes later, he returned, carrying a small child in his arms.
To prove he meant no threat, he cleared a clean patch of ground, spread his coat on it, laid the child down, and then stepped back.
Miwei approached to examine her.
It was a little girl, her small dark-yellow face flushed with an unhealthy red.
Miwei reached out and touched her forehead.
The burning heat made her frown.
“A fever. Her inner energy density is very low. Has she eaten nothing?”
At her words, Pasha gave a bitter smile.
“We… we don’t have enough food. With strict controls, we can’t buy any, and this little brat just won’t eat.”
Miwei asked no more.
She whispered an incantation, a faint glow rising in her palms.
After a while, the light dimmed.
She pulled a flatbread from her robes and placed it on the child.
“It’s done. When she wakes, give her something to eat.”
Overjoyed, Pasha hurried forward, wrapping the girl in his coat and clutching her tightly.
“Thank you! Thank you!”
Startled by his sudden approach, Miwei instinctively stepped back.
She did not take his offering of tribute, returning directly to the convent to rest.
Lying in bed, Miwei suddenly realized something—since they had arrived, all the wounded she treated had been soldiers.
Not one civilian.
At once, Fast’s face surfaced in her mind, and she understood.
Anger flared, but as she recalled the day’s events, weakness overcame her.
The next night, she again met Pasha.
This time, he himself was wounded.
Having already dealt with him once, Miwei no longer resisted.
She healed him.
In the following days, by day she saved soldiers at the convent, while at night she slipped out.
Each time she found Pasha waiting with the wounded.
Some she could save, some she could not.
Whether they lived or died, Pasha remained calm.
After many such nights, Miwei began to suspect.
Ordinary civilians should not be injured so often.
When she confronted him, Pasha admitted directly that he was with the rebels, seizing the chance to pour his ideals out upon her.
Miwei sneered.
“A spark? Do you know how many soldiers Hendak Territory has? How can your little flame burn?”
Pasha ignored her scorn, replying solemnly:
“Perhaps our fire is small, but it can warm the weary. It can guide the blind. It can shelter the homeless. We choose how long and how bright we burn.”
“You will not succeed.”
After a pause, Miwei said firmly.
Pasha met her gaze openly.
“Perhaps. But in this struggle, we forget our past tragedies and see only miracles. That alone brings joy.”
Miwei fell silent.
So did Pasha.
But each night, she still went out to aid them.
She no longer thought about right or wrong.
She only wanted to save lives.
Later, in the convent, Miwei heard the news that the rebel forces had been annihilated.
Pasha never appeared again on that street.
Every night, she still walked there, uncertain what she hoped for.
At last, Pasha sent her a note through others, giving her a secret address.
For the first time, she saw their living quarters and met the ordinary people there, reeking of poverty, hearing their thoughts and hopes.
Miwei left Pasha her bracelet, telling him that in dire need, he could use it by day to summon her aid.
“Clang!”
The silver bracelet fell to the floor, its clear ring striking Miwei’s heart like a hammer.
Fast stood before her, looking down with mockery in his eyes.
“You love saving people? I’ll indulge you.”
He called out: “Bring it in.”
Two burly soldiers dragged in a naked figure and threw him onto a sickbed.
“He’s yours now, Saintess. Heal him or let him die, it makes no difference. But if you succeed—congratulations, I’ll invite you to a spectacle. Do it.”
With that, Fast left with his men.
Miwei looked at the man on the bed, battered beyond recognition, his body covered in wounds.
Silent tears streamed down her face.
“Forgive me, for being like this now…”
【Goddess, I thank You… You answered me.】
Pasha rasped weakly.
Miwei pressed her palm over the great wound in his abdomen, a faint light glowing.
Her voice trembled as she continued to recite: 【When I praise You, You grant peace and joy in Your presence.】
“Miwei, you were right. But I am still glad to have known you.”
【…remove every illness…】
Miwei fainted before she could release the healing spell.
Yet with the help of other nuns, Pasha’s life was saved, fulfilling Fast’s promise.
The next morning, Fast held a grand public trial in the heart of the territory.
Countless civilians were driven into the snow and bitter wind to witness.
Miwei stood in the crowd’s corner, watching as Pasha was dragged onto the stage and forced to kneel.
Fast mounted the platform with a long saber, gazing down at him.
“Do you know what fate awaits you?”
“I know. In the world to come… there will be no place for you.”
Pasha lifted his head to look at Fast.
“The wheel of history cannot be stopped. Those who block it will be crushed beneath it.”
Fast sneered.
“Go to hell, you filthy wretch.”
“Hell and heaven will take no part of me.”
Pasha searched the crowd until he found the familiar black dress.
Straining, he smiled toward it.
【Great Goddess, I thank You… that I may bear all Your abundance, that I may glorify You…】
【…bear witness to You, before You receive Your complete grace and blessings, that I may also become a blessing to others… Liar!】
Fast’s saber cleaved down, blood spraying high.
Miwei’s heart twisted in agony.
At that moment, she realized—neither heaven nor hell could comfort her.
Only her own small self could resist.
Time seemed to halt.
From the distant sky, golden holy light plunged downward, reaching Miwei’s head in an instant.
“Crack!”
From her chest, the insignia of the Church gave a brittle snap.
Fine cracks spread across her entire body.
The golden light faltered, then burst apart into the air, vanishing as if it had never been.
I prayed to myself, for myself.