Chapter 432: Arcane Laboratory of the Witch Queen

The silence that followed was strange—not uncomfortable, but dense, as if the air itself were waiting for the next move in a divine game.

Seris sighed.

With an almost imperceptible gesture of her free hand—the one not holding Alice’s—she drew a spiral in the air. Golden lines appeared, tracing circular runes that slowly spun before opening into a translucent portal, where space seemed liquid, rippling like the surface of an enchanted lake. On the other side, a vast hall could be glimpsed, adorned with floating mirrors, flying books, and lights suspended in the air like trapped stars.

“Let’s go,” said Seris, her voice calm but firm. “Much needs to be discussed… about the little girl.”

The world around them seemed to hold its breath once more.

Vergil tilted his head slightly, his eyes still fixed on the dimensional rift. His senses, even after the battle, were sharp—and he realized that this was no ordinary portal. It was a reserved, neutral space… yet built to withstand war, if necessary.

Seris didn’t just want to talk.

She wanted to understand.

And perhaps… judge.

Pandora, still trying to maintain her guise of indifference after being called “auntie” by a girl too cute for her taste, took a step forward. Her body glowed as it was bathed in the light of the portal, which reacted with her runes as if it recognized her as a frequent visitor.

“Finally,” she said, crossing her arms. “A decent place for a conversation that is clearly going to be long.”

Vergil hesitated for a second.

Alice, however, did not.

She lightly held Vergil’s invisible horns — the ones that sometimes appeared only for her to see — and whispered:

“Everything will be okay, right?”

Vergil didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gave a small, firm smile and stroked her leg.

“If it’s not… we’ll make it so.”

And then he walked through the portal, carrying his daughter on his back as if he were carrying the world—and, in a way… he was.

Pandora disappeared in a sparkling flash just behind him.

Seris looked at Morgana, still standing, still upright, still not bowing.

“Are you coming?”

Morgana let out a nasal laugh.

“I don’t like meetings, but I like being left out even less.” She twirled her cane in the air and stepped forward, crossing the portal last.

The crack closed behind them with a subtle snap, as if time itself had noted this moment in the margin of a sacred book.

The portal spat them out on the other side with a slight pulse of warm energy, as if they were crossing the surface of a dream.

The impact of the new reality was immediate.

Vergil landed with his feet firmly on enchanted marble flooring, his cloak swaying with the inertia of the portal. Alice was still behind him, laughing softly—a sound too light for such a… colossal place.

Because what lay ahead was much more than a “hall.”

It was a living alchemy laboratory.

So vast that it took Vergil two seconds to realize that the dome above their heads was the entire night sky, magically projected, with constellations in constant rotation and meteors crossing from time to time — an enchanted ceiling that seemed to stare back.

The floor sparkled with arcane lines that snaked like serpents of light, connecting rooms and chambers. In each corridor, witches of different castes, costumes, and shapes circulated: some floated from room to room, others pushed carts with bubbling flasks, and one, in particular, was fighting with a grimoire that insisted on biting her sleeves.

Floating mirrors reflected different angles of the space—and some even showed other dimensions, a magical illusion or perhaps something more literal. A smoke dragon flew across the ceiling and dissolved when it crossed a bridge made of liquid light.

Pandora whistled softly, visibly impressed, even as she tried to maintain her blasé pose.

“Ah, so this is where royalty hides when they don’t want to talk to anyone.”

Seris walked calmly but determinedly ahead. The other witches immediately made way for her. Some greeted her with reverence. Others simply looked away, all too aware of the power she exuded.

“Follow me,” she said, without turning back.

Vergil walked silently, his eyes scanning every corner. He didn’t like places like this—too big, too calculated, full of power and secrets. But Alice was dazzled.

“Daddy, look!” she pointed to a floating bubble where a small water elemental played with enchanted stones. “They have little creatures that live inside the magic!”

“Don’t touch anything,” Vergil said, half serious, half smiling.

“I already did,” she whispered, and a blue glow flickered discreetly in her hand before disappearing.

Pandora followed them with her arms crossed, the crystal floating lazily over her shoulder. Morgana, for her part, just watched with the expression of someone who already knew half the witches there — and owed favors to the other half.

The walk took them through corridors increasingly illuminated by suspended runes, until they finally arrived before a black stone arch encrusted with silver bones—the Main Hall.

Seris pushed the door open with the palm of her hand.

It opened with an ancient whisper, as if space itself had given permission.

The interior was a mixture of arcane library, temple, and magical engineering laboratory. In the center, a hexagonal table made of crystal pulsed softly, surrounded by six chairs — each with a different symbol: shadow, time, blood, mind, purity, and chaos.

Without waiting for anyone, Seris walked to the end of the table, twirling her hand in the air. Runes lit up. The room sealed itself magically.

“You may sit,” she said, and it was not an invitation—it was a decision.

Vergil looked around. He felt the defenses of the environment, the dozens of enchantments hidden in the walls, in the lights, in the shadows. It was a space where truths could be forcibly extracted, if necessary.

“I don’t like rooms that try to control me,” he said, remaining standing, Alice still on his shoulders.

Seris raised an eyebrow. “And I don’t like overly powerful children being treated like mascots.”

Alice climbed down from Vergil’s back of her own accord and walked over to the table. She touched the chair with the mind symbol. It lit up softly.

Pandora widened one eye. “…Okay. That shouldn’t happen.”

“Of course not,” said Seris, a little lower, watching with clinical interest. “That’s why we’re here.”

Vergil remained standing. Pandora sat down in the chaos chair without even thinking. Morgana took the blood chair, laughing softly.

“So?” said Pandora, looking from Seris to Vergil. “This is the part where someone explains to me what, exactly, is so special about this little girl?”

Seris finally turned to them, her eyes more serious than ever.

“She’s not just special,” she said. “She’s unique. And perhaps… impossible.”