Shade had known for a long time that every aspect of the witches was perfect. After becoming more intimate with Galina, he had confirmed this from other angles as well. But blood that was flawless even in appearance still exceeded his understanding.
"Very beautiful."
He praised her softly. Apothecary Miss probably did not understand what he was praising and thought he meant her wrist. Suppressing the urge to curl up the corners of her mouth, she expressionlessly placed the test tube before the grave as well. Only after she stepped back did Shade walk forward and set down the notebook. This way, the six items formed a ring before the tombstone.
"Blacksmith, I want a key."
Apothecary Miss spoke:
"The materials have been gathered. Please accept them."
The Blacksmith's soul nodded to her. Mist rose from beneath the earth and covered the six items. When the mist dispersed, all six had vanished:
"Descendant of the Lord, the key now belongs to you."
The soul nodded to Apothecary Miss, then disappeared. Like the soul of Apothecary Miss's great-grandmother buried in the old lighthouse grave, this soul had continued onward as well.
The Sorceress blinked in surprise:
"Where's the key? He still hasn't given me the key."
She reached into her pockets, then commanded the Fireball to fly around the small graveyard, checking whether the key lay amid the grass.
But in the end, they found nothing. The brown-haired lady could only look at Shade with slight embarrassment.
"I understand, I understand."
Shade sighed, pulled out the Iron Shovel from his pocket, and plunged it into the ground again:
"Step aside. I'll do it."
Thus, amid the thick fog and under the illumination of the surrounding Fireballs, he dug up the second grave of the day. The rhythm of the shovel cutting