Despite these evident signs of age, few dared to scrutinize the chief, and even Emerie avoided direct eye contact. In their clan, hierarchical boundaries were strictly maintained.

The chief's cloak billowed as she declared her immortality, "Today was to be my day of rejuvenation, had you not interfered. But it doesn't matter. Do you think she can truly escape? Our witches are everywhere. She will be captured soon, and I will complete the ritual. Then, in hell, you will see my immortality for yourself!"

The chief's laughter, amplified by the swirling smoke, reached Nicole's ears distinctly.

Suddenly, the chief commanded, "Bring the sacrifice to the stage!"

With a dramatic sweep of her sleeve, four masked women approached, hoisting Roscoe onto the altar.

As the four women hoisted Roscoe onto the altar, they positioned him at the center of the lotus platform, securing his limbs to its four corners in a configuration resembling a "T", his form facing the assembled crowd below.

With solemn reverence, the chief initiated the ritual, her voice resonating with authority as she intoned, "Today, our witch clan shall bear witness to the purification of a soul. This individual's essence has been tainted by malevolent spirits, but through the grace of our Holy Spirit, his heart and soul shall be cleansed. For the greater good of humanity, our Holy Spirit shall expend its divine essence to ensure peace prevails. May this ritual usher in an era of tranquility and perpetuate the eternal presence of our Holy Spirit."

In unison, the assembled witches below echoed the chief's words, their voices rising in fervent chant. “Peace to the world, Holy Spirit eternal! Peace to the world, Holy Spirit eternal! Peace to the world, Holy Spirit eternal!"

The collective resonance of their voices surged like a tidal wave.

The witches, ensnared by the charismatic allure of their chief, obediently echoed her words like marionettes in a macabre puppet show.

Nicole, witnessing the fervent devotion of the assembled witches, was appalled by their blind allegiance. Enveloped in a haze of delusion, they clung to the promise of immortality and eternal life, surrendering themselves entirely to the whims of their supposed chief.

What a bunch of ignorant fools!

As the chief approached the altar, torch in hand, poised to ignite the flames, Nicole seized the opportune moment to intervene. With swift precision, she stealthily positioned herself behind Emerie, brandishing her knife and issuing a command. "Stop right there!"

The frenzied crowd, jolted from their trance-like state, fell silent, their eyes widening in astonishment as they beheld Nicole holding their revered Emerie hostage.

The chief, confronted by the unexpected turn of events, halted her advance, pivoting to face Nicole with a mixture of disdain and amusement, confident in her ability to swiftly quash any resistance.

"You dare to hold our holy witch hostage?" the chief hissed, her voice laced with scorn and disdain, a dangerous glint flickering in her eyes.

“Holy witch?" Nicole's laughter cut through the tense atmosphere Like a chilling gust of wind. “What a joke! She's nothing more than an ordinary young girl masquerading as a so-called holy witch."

The chief's countenance chilled instantly, betraying a flicker of unease at the realization that Nicole had overheard her secret exchange with Roscoe.

Struggling to maintain her facade of authority, the chief retorted, "You must be afflicted with delusions, spouting such nonsensical claims. Release the holy witch immediately, and perhaps I shall grant you mercy. Otherwise, the wrath of the Holy Spirit shall descend upon you, rendering your existence a living torment."

Nicole couldn't help but smirk at the chief's feeble attempt to intimidate her. "If I'm truly delusional, why not let your vaunted Holy Spirit deliver its judgment upon me now?" she countered, her tone dripping with mockery.