Force Calm!

Force Calm!!

Force Calm!!!

Force Calm......

After casting Force Calm dozens of times, Cecile finally felt she’d shaken off that arrogant, overbearing mindset.

She took several deep breaths, still adjusting her emotions.

She couldn’t let the Authority of Arrogance control her in return.

Even if it made her stronger, it was useless here—and this arrogance would only ruin her.

Too much pride would trap her in the same fate as her predecessor.

In Hell, Cecile had dared to go alone solely because of the Authority of Arrogance.

Arrogance’s simplest power was self-affirmation: the more you believed you were unmatched, the more you truly became unmatched.

Believing your Authority was supreme made it stronger for you.

Her predecessor’s arrogance had reason but was unwise.

An, as an Overlord of Hell, was formidable—but her strength relied on the Authority of Silence.

Most opponents couldn’t cast magic against her, forced into pure physical fights while she used spells.

They were doomed from the start.

Her predecessor had contracted An without knowing her true power, assuming all Overlords were equally strong.

She found An’s Silence troublesome and never considered Hell, so she ignored An.

But Cecile, from a player’s view, knew An ranked mid-to-lower among Overlords. Without Silence, even near-Overlord demons could crush her.

Most Authorities were helpless against Silence.

Few demons relied purely on strength; few humans avoided magic entirely.

The Pride Witch was the exception.

Her mastery of Arrogance was terrifying. If rated SSS, An’s grasp of Silence was only A—a vast gap.

This meant Arrogance suppressed Silence, letting Cecile ignore the palace’s silence and cast freely.

Once she unleashed her forbidden spell, this farce would end.

Feeling recovered, Cecile’s face twisted in regret.

Damn it—she’d forgotten to prepare dog ears and a tail for An.

Just picturing An’s scorching-hot body that ignited desire, and that sheer, see-through gauze barely covering her, made Cecile ache with waste.

She’d left Hell so abruptly... without even playing with her!

That thought struck her, and she laughed softly.

No matter. Next time, she’d skip Arrogance and train An as a loyal dog with her normal mind.

This first meeting was just groundwork.

Now, Cecile confirmed she’d truly broken free from Arrogance’s influence.

Under its sway, she’d never consider such playful fun—only seeing An as a coward unworthy of her, their contract an insult.

If An refused to submit, she’d annihilate her instantly.

After a few laughs, Cecile noticed eyes spying from the doorway.

Head maid Aileen stood there, expressionless, her hand slowly dropping from the frame.

Behind her, two small heads peeked out—one confused, the other startled.

“How many days has it been?” Hell’s time was chaotic; hours there could be days or minutes here.

“Seventeen days.”

“So late... Anything new about the Witch Council?”

“Three of the six witches arrived.”

“Three... Envy and Sloth didn’t come?”

“Yes.”

“Who else is missing?”

“Wrath. But her Witch Heir took her seat.”

“Then we’re all here.” Cecile smoothed her expression.

Envy Witch had always been her rival; skipping a meeting she called was expected.

Their Witch Heirs clashed just as fiercely.

Sloth Witch simply didn’t care—she was the only one among the Seven Witches with no territory or followers, her Heir equally carefree.

But they earned their disrespect: Envy matched Arrogance in strength, and Sloth was two generations older than Cecile.

For them, notification was enough.

Wrath’s Heir claiming her seat meant the old witch had been replaced.

Witch Heirs became witches either by voluntary retirement or replacement.

This fit the plot—Wrath Witch was first eliminated. The new witch, still growing into her Authority, couldn’t match her predecessor.

“Helena, come here. I’ve got a boring meeting soon—you stay. Take this projection magic stone and visit Euphemia in Shengen Kingdom.”

......

Cecile pushed open the conference room door.

“Sorry,” she said while walking in, “my dog at home was disobedient. Wasted my time.”

At the head seat, she leaned on the table, smiling as she scanned the room.

“Has anyone heard of Demon Hunt?”

The Witch Heirs stared at her, clearly puzzled.

The four witches present—all but the new Wrath Witch—were busy with their own affairs, uninterested.

Cecile realized Demon Hunt’s secrecy was real; it had hidden from five witches here (counting her predecessor).

“None of you know? Then let me explain Demon Hunt—it’s targeting all of us now.”

The room’s atmosphere shifted instantly.

This was perfect. Cecile wouldn’t force the others to fight Demon Hunt. Just knowing it existed and staying cautious was enough.

Demon Hunt was hard to destroy—and didn’t need destroying.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Demon Hunt was her enemy and theirs.

Let enemies balance each other; she’d reap the rewards later.

As the strongest of the Seven Witches, least bothered by underlings, she could call a council at the first threat. Demon Hunt’s first target wouldn’t be her.

After the short meeting, Cecile turned to leave—when the Wrath Witch called out.

“Wait, Lady Pride.”

Cecile signaled Aileen and Imoxiu to go, staying alone.

“Thank you for staying.” The Wrath Witch dipped into a curtsy, skirt lifted slightly.

Witches were equals—but seniority favored Cecile, and strength favored the established Pride Witch over the new Wrath Witch.

“What is it?” Cecile asked sideways.

“You know I’m new to this. Handling witch matters is...”

“Skip the flattery. What do you want?”

“A trade.”

A trade?

Cecile’s interest sparked instantly. Trades were her favorite.

“Go on. Nothing ordinary will interest me...”

“A bet agreement!”

Cecile’s lips curled. “As you wish. What’s the bet?”