Several days later, at the Witch's home.
Samael looked at the long-missed, familiar outline in the mirror and raised a hand to stroke his cheek in satisfaction.
Outside the door, several peeking figures wore regretful expressions, as though they had not had nearly enough.
Good times were always so brief.
"How are the preparations?"
"Mm, everything is ready. The dose of Magic Potion I prepared should be enough to suppress that woman for a while..."
Inside, Morgan answered solemnly. She then stepped forward, stood before Samael, and whispered softly in his ear. Raising her hands, she patiently fastened button after button for her guardian knight and smoothed the wrinkles from his clothes, like a wife seeing her husband off to war.
Once she had meticulously tidied the man's appearance, Morgan withdrew her pale fingers in satisfaction. Her gaze drifted toward the several purplish-red Magic Potions on the tray, and she took a deep breath, yet still could not suppress the turbulent complexity in her heart.
"Will we succeed?"
The sudden fear of gain and loss made Morgan press her lips together and lower her head against Samael's shoulder. There was a faint tremor in her suppressed voice.
Samael smiled, raising a hand to pat the Witch's delicate back. After a brief pause, he answered frankly.
"To be honest, I don't have absolute confidence either..."
Using Magic Potions to weaken the Lion King's divinity, then finding an opportunity to strip away her fusion with the Holy Lance—this was merely the ideal scenario.
But what they faced was not a stone that would not fight back when struck or speak back when cursed at. It was a human god who ruled this island and possessed tremendous destructive power.
Fate was always full of uncertainty. When the moment truly came, no one could