The citizens of Lustburg were filled with joy, yet, in contrast, the nobles were filled with utter fear and terror.

“How dreadful. The young calf is now a tiger that no one can underestimate.”

A short and stout man twirled the glass filled with red amber liquid as he observed the proceedings from a VIP lounge of the inner church.

Around him, nobles murmured in hushed tones, their ranks noticeably thinner after a number of them had been discreetly escorted away by various maids, knights, or clowns to an unknown destination.

They all had the distinct feeling that they would never see those people again.

“He is a dragon, Duke Hermes.” A white-haired veteran in uniform allowed himself a thin smirk, his weathered face lined and creased by battles long past.

“You are right, Duke Highland. A noble dragon without equal.” Duke Hermes' tone was filled with respect.

Duke Hermes and Duke Highland. Two of the three current giants of Lustburg were observing the ongoing scenario with an amused glint in their eyes.

They had personally witnessed how Sol progressively changed from a beginner who only knew how to wield an executioner blade to a cunningly sharp politician who could use everything at his disposal, even himself, if he deemed his involvement absolutely necessary. Everything was for the sake of reaching his goals.

“Still, to think terrorists would dare to attack Lustburg on this auspicious day. I must say, they are quite the daring folks.”

Hermes commented idly. As a merchant with an intuition for money and events that bordered on precognition, Hermes had long since understood that opposing Sol was nothing but a fool’s errand. And at the time, Sol had not even reached the Duke realm.

In his eyes, the present Sol was not unlike a sleeping disaster— a walking calamity and predator that should not be disturbed by any means, lest they had a fancy of stirring the apocalypse.

“They are not daring. Only foolish, and now they have incurred the wrath of a bona fide dragon.”

“But are they really that foolish as you say? What did they expect to accomplish by doing something like this? No matter what, the prince has now ascended to the King realm. Only someone at the same level of power could even hope to affect him. Even then, they might not be able to do anything to that monster. Why sacrifice carefully trained assassins and important chess pieces now, of all time? What is the purpose of this futility?”

The impracticality of the situation was the only thing about the whole scenario that left the intuitively sharp Hermes absolutely bewildered and stumped.

Sure, a few terrorist attacks would break the mood and might even have a few casualties if things had not been handled as delicately as they had been.

However, even in that scenario, the death of a few hundred or even a few commoners was nothing particularly important in the grand scheme of things, no matter how callous or scandalous such a thought was.

{There is no need to be uneasy. I might have an idea about what is happening.}

A whisper reached the two dukes.

The two dukes stiffened imperceptibly. Their gazes did not waver, their expressions remained the same, yet both men understood that the voice echoing in their ears was no idle phantom or a figment of their imagination.

Sol Dragona Luxuria.

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They knew that the prince was now immensely stronger than he was before the start of the war. But this kind of small display always renewed their understanding and fear of his insurmountable might.

As stout and shrewd as they were to survive the top of nobility, they had no notion that it was also a thinly veiled threat and reminder. A way to tell them that he could monitor just about anyone in the vicinity of Lustburg, his domain— a sobering and horrifying reminder that nothing would stay hidden from his all-seeing gaze.

{Such trivialities are not something you should concern yourself with. Just enjoy the day and my wedding. I will be quite displeased if the gifts aren’t to my liking.}

The voice stopped, leaving two Dukes who were too stunned to speak.

* * *

While intrigue and scheme abounded, one important fact remained unquestioned— this day was the wedding day of a Cursed Witch and a Blessed Prince.

However, while the Blessed Prince had thwarted the attempt that was made to desecrate his wedding, fighting against the enemies both hidden and in the open, where was the cursed witch?

Well… The Cursed Witch was facing what could be perhaps one of the most dangerous situations of her life.

“My dress is too tight.”

Horror and Damnation.

The four witches, Ambrosia and La Befana, the President of the Witch Association.

The six highest-ranked Witches in Salem. Women whose renown needed not to be said and had enough power to decimate entire kingdoms.

Those six women were now feeling both speechless and powerless, something that they never thought they would feel after everything they went through. They were now facing a problem that was way beyond their understanding, something that destroyed all notions of common sense.

“What if we use a spell to adjust it? Surely you must have some household-type spells, right?” Kali proposed with a soft voice, but immediately closed her mouth when Freya glared at her with eyes that threatened murder if tested further.

“Are you fucking crazy, huh!? This dress was created after we mixed in dozens upon dozens of protection spells and high-ranked materials. There is no way it can be altered now.”

“No need to shout at me. I am not the one who messed up.” Kali sulked and ducked down.

But Freya had already lost interest in arguing with her. “Let’s call Milaris, now!”

Freya started firing orders to just about everyone present in the scene. Not even Ambrosia was spared.

As for the cause of the current predicament, Medea… She could only give everyone a sheepish smile, full of exasperation and bewilderment.

“I am sorry. I did not imagine this would happen now.”

The fierce expression on Freya’s face immediately vanished, and she started massaging Medea’s shoulder with a comforting note in her voice.

“Don’t worry. You are still very skinny. Don’t frown, it will affect your makeup.” She then addressed their green-haired sister. “Persephone, how is the makeup session going?”

“Pretty good. I had to make a few modifications because of her sudden changes. But she is beautiful enough.”

“Perfect. Perfect. What is the situation outside? Everything under control?”

This time, it was La Befana to answer, “The fairy Sheherazade, Isis, and Lilin worked out the situation. Sol didn’t even have to lift a finger.”

“I also deployed many witches in disguise. Nothing will…”

“Don’t you ever dare finish that sentence.” Kali started to interject, but Freya immediately clamped her lips shut.

Pinching the lips of the poor girl, she asked with a glacial smile. “Aren’t you the one always going on about planting flags and something something ominous? What the hell are you doing now?”

Kali immediately raised her hands in surrender, and Freya released her with a glare.

“I was just trying to make a joke.” Kali massaged her red lips with a pout, “Why the hell are you even bossing us so hard? One would think you are the one getting married.”

Freya shrugged as she arranged the flowers on the stand.

“You know how important this wedding is. Not just for our sister. But for our race as a whole. This will be the first step to erase the history of war and bloodshed between us and humans. Witches will once again be accepted in society and will even integrate with humanity.”

Kali stopped whining at the seriousness in her sister’s voice. In moments like this, she remembered that Freya was actually the First Witch to have followed Ambrosia.

Despite her appearance, she was the oldest of the Four Directions and the one who witnessed all the history of the witches with her very own eyes. She was the living witness of the witches’ glory and misery.

“It isn’t like no witches ever married, right?” Kali asked.

“You are right.” She gave a bitter smile, “But it will be the first marriage that doesn’t end in a tragedy.”