Chapter 1: Defeat
Father’s cane and pocket watch, mother’s necklace and bracelet, brother’s glasses and fountain pen, sister’s doll and hair bow…
In Sera’s memory, the images of his family remained vivid, as if it were only yesterday.
Everything froze at the age of ten.
A frenzied witch had broken into their warm family campsite. A chilling long blade split the warmth of the campfire, hot blood staining the snowy white tablecloth. She tossed severed limbs and bones high into the mirror-like lake, filth rippling gently beneath the moon.
Little Sera had hidden inside the tent, watching the murderer ignore desperate pleas and cries, slicing his young sister apart piece by piece.
His sister, who still trusted him even in her final moments, had hoped Sera would rush out to save her. In her hand, she had tightly clutched that stuffed bear…
He was cowardly.
He was powerless.
Sera hated witches.
By the time the Enforcers of the Temperance Court arrived, the witch was long gone. All they found was Sera, his eyes bloodshot and trembling uncontrollably. The boy had clenched his palms so tightly they were bloody and mangled. His purplish lips bore deep bite marks.
No other living soul was found.
From that day forward, one innocent boy was gone, and in his place emerged an Enforcer who harbored an unshakable hatred for witches. Thirty years had passed, yet he still could not forget the faintly glowing, gently curved horns he glimpsed through the blood mist that night. That image was the only thing that kept him alive despite the agony of losing his loved ones.
He swore he would find that witch.
And kill her with his own hands.
But in the end, he failed. Not only did he fail to recognize her true identity right away, he was also powerless to stand against her. The gap between the Fourth Sequence and the Third Sequence was like a chasm—unbridgeable.
And so, like his family, he was killed by the witch. No different.
A sudden surge of rich fragrance tickled Sera’s nose. He sneezed. The clinking sound of chains rang out clearly.
Sera jolted awake.
What came into view was an unfamiliar reddish-purple canopy. The thorned rose carvings were finely detailed, and semi-transparent silken veils with cream and gold trim hung down on all sides. The pointed oak posts, engraved with reliefs, peeked out between the curtains.
It was dim. A tiny flame flickered silently inside a whale oil lamp, its brass casing reflecting its glow.
Clusters of vivid red flowers—whose names Sera didn’t even know—surrounded and supported the lamp. Peeking off the edge of the bed, it seemed the entire room was drowned in a crimson sea. That must’ve been the source of the strange fragrance.
These flowers reminded Sera of that woman.
He felt extremely uneasy.
After a short breath, Sera calmed his restlessness. But then he became aware of two crucial problems with his current situation—
First, why was he still alive?
Second, where was this place?
He finally noticed the numb soreness in his lower back and underarms. Lifting his head, he saw a metal chain hanging from the canopy. At the end of the chain was a pair of handcuffs—and within them, a pair of slender, snow-white arms.
Something was wrong.
More than the fact that he was imprisoned on this bed, Sera was troubled by the owner of these thin arms.
As a middle-aged man, he remembered his own arms being more muscular, rougher, and darker. These... they looked like a girl’s arms…
A bad premonition surged through Sera. He quickly looked down.
And when his gaze dropped to his now flat and empty chest, Sera was stunned.
His pale shoulders, bathed in dim light, were smooth like cream. His collarbones were delicately balanced. His skin, fine like silk, gleamed like embedded jewels. A white off-shoulder slip dress, lightweight and soft, clung to a petite figure, outlining a slender frame.
Sitting in a duck-like posture, her legs extended from beneath the skirt in curves as elegant as if carved from jade. Her tender toes pressed together like plump, round pearls.
This—this was entirely a girl’s body!
When had the body he trained so hard to battle witches with become so frail?
“He” struggled, thinking it was still a nightmare, trying to break free. But it was all in vain—“he” had no strength left.
When a lock of silver-white hair, clear and lustrous like a diamond, slid down to her shoulder and entered Sera’s field of view, she finally gave up.
For she saw radiance sparkling and dancing within it.
That beauty—utterly pure—left her speechless.
“This… is me?” Sera couldn’t believe it.
But even her voice now rang like a silver bell. The weak question sounded like dancing notes—yet also like a confirmation.
This was her.
Sera Fred, Enforcer of the Kabbalah Church’s Temperance Court, a Seraph-class officer, in the fortieth year of her life, after years of striving, had successfully evolved from an unshaven uncle into a young girl. Truly, what a joyous occasion…
So, she had to begin recalling the events that led to this bizarre situation:
Three days ago, still a middle-aged man, Sera had been dispatched by the Church as the Temperance Court’s ace, sent deep into the streets and alleys of Gray Cloud Fortress to investigate a rumor about a missing page from the “Witch Codex.”
A heretical cult that worshipped the “First Witch” as a deity had reportedly found one page and intended to use it in a ritual.
To the Church, anything related to the “First Witch” was heresy.
The complete “Witch Codex” had fourteen pages. The author was the origin of all witches in the world, and its contents were blasphemous and nonsensical. The Church was determined to collect and tightly control each page.
They had already secured four.
Sera was considered the best choice for this mission—strong, reliable, absolutely loyal to the Church. The Temperance Court took pride in him.
Naturally, Sera did not disappoint. He brought along his adopted daughter, Charlotte—a trainee Enforcer—and followed the clues to the ritual site, punished the cultists present, and successfully retrieved the forbidden page from the altar.
But just as he and Charlotte thought they could safely return with the page, the Blood Witch Chescia appeared before them.
The gap between the Third Sequence, “Angel’s Attendant” rank, and the Fourth Sequence, “Middle Rank,” was far beyond Sera’s expectations.
As that woman stepped slowly through blooming roses, even the clouds and moon turned blood-red. Somewhere in the laws of the world, a corner had already been silently rewritten.
Sera hadn’t even had time to pass the page to Charlotte. To buy her time to escape, he had to burn his own life force just to barely hold Chescia back.
“I… lost the fight…”
Now a young girl, Sera tried her best to comprehend all that had happened so far. What should’ve been clear memories began to blur.
“And then…”
“That woman took me away…”
Her head ached.
She seemed to see something terrifying in a dream.
“Modified…”
Sera’s voice began to tremble.
In that dream, she had seen that black-haired, red-eyed woman smiling as she cut open her body with a scalpel, poured strange-colored liquids into her stomach, stuffed squirming twisted insects into her kidneys. Her bones screamed, her muscles spasmed, her blood sprayed, and every pore of her body cried out in agony and torment.
It was more real than a nightmare.
No—in truth, it wasn’t a dream. It had all truly happened to her. Unquestionably, it was reality.
As she trembled from the horrific memories, the tightly shut door creaked open.
The click of high heels on the floor rang clear and crisp, but to Sera, it was a terrifying death knell.
A black headpiece bloomed like a flower. A thin veil veiled her jet-black hair. Amid the darkness gleamed vivid red. A Gothic dress trailed behind her.
That woman—twice now the source of Sera’s nightmares—walked elegantly through a sea of blood-colored flowers into the room.
Then, those blood-drenched eyes narrowed slightly. Her gentle smile was eerie, bone-chilling.
She was smiling at Sera.