Release That Witch-Chapter 1141: Trust and Misunderstanding

"Hey, just about the right time. I want to discuss something with you." Garcia's voice came from the other end of the line before Roland spoke.

"Um... what do you want to talk about?"

"I would rather talk to you in person. Come to my room. You just got up, didn't you?"

Garcia demanded condesendingly over the phone, as though sleeping in was a capital offence for martialists.

"Well... alright then," Roland said thoughtfully, quickly making up his mind to first see what she would say. If Garcia happened to be in a bad mood, he could always call on her another day.

After hanging up the telephone, Roland asked the three witches to wait for him at the living room before he strode off to Room 0827.

"The door is open. Come in," Garcia said gruffly as she heard Roland's footsteps.

Roland entered and found Garcia in her summer dress, standing in front of her fridge with two glasses in her hands. Her gray hair streamed down to her shoulders, tiny beads of sweat on the tip of her nose. She was wearing a flip-flop patterned with cartoon characters. Instead of a self-disciplined martialist, she looked more like a common college student enjoying the summer. Garcia asked, "Any drinks? Water, tea or coke? They're all iced."

Garcia was actually just two to three years older than him. Had Roland not posed himself as a wretched landlord who used to be a dropout and sacked bartender, he would have been still in school.

"Coke," Roland replied distractedly. "Did you just come back from your morning training?"

"Unlike you, I don't have unlimited leisure time."

Roland did not know how to retort. They had been more open to each other lately. However, Garcia seemed to have developed a nasty habit of constant criticism, and what was worse, she appeared to be quite enjoying it. It was a miracle that she was still alive, fully intact.

Yet Roland could tell, after knowing her for such a long time, that she was in good humor. Indeed, she was quite delighted.

Was it because of the matter she was going to share?

"Here, iced green tea," Garcia said as she put down a drink in front of him.

"I said coke..." Roland protested mildly, his brows raised.

"You didn't do your morning excercise, so it would be better to reduce your sugar intake," Garcia answered seriously to stifle her smile. "The evolution of the Force of Nature has nothing to do with one's body type. A skinny person could also have great power, which means your power won't help you tone your body. If you plan to take part in a martialist contest, you'd better make sure you work out regularly. A fit martialist is always going to be more popular than an overweight one."

"Then why did you bother offering me choices," Roland snapped within himself while rolling his eyes. He said grumpily, "So what? Did you ask me to come here just to educate me on fitness? I've told you that I have the slightest interest in becoming a top martialist or participating in some sort of contest. I don't need fame to hunt down the evil and protect the world. I would rather be what I am now, a nameless, unknown martialist who fights anonymously for the mankind."

If he did become a public figure, how could he continue to search for the Fallen Evils?

"Incredible..." Garcia muttered, her eyes fixed upon Roland as she continued slowly, "I thought you would never say something like that. My master once told me that you should never believe what a person says but what he does. If I didn't see what you've done, I would have thought you were just a hypocritic who lies unblushingly. But as much as I hate to admit it, you're... honest."

Roland knew what Garcia was referring to.

After he successfully killed his first Fallen Evil, he and the Taquila witches started to work together to exterminate other Fallen Evils in the city.

Faldi searched the city in daytime, and he and the combat witches went to kill at night. Apart from obtaining mutated Forces of Nature, they would also get a lot of extra income often. To avoid uninvited attention, Roland would only take some cash or unidentifiable personal articles. Sometimes, he would donate some Forces of Nature to the Martialist Association as well.

The Martialist Association monitored all the Fallen Evils in the city. If they discovered a large number of Fallen Evils mysteriously died and their Forces of Nature disappeared, they would very likely become suspicious. As such, Roland had to voluntarily report some of the incidents every now and then to keep his identity and his miraculous work secret.

Meanwhile, Roland was also proactively defending against erosions. According to Garcia, he was currently the most active new member in the association, and he had even killed more Fallen Evils than some official members. The Fallen Evils, on the other hand, had also realized that they had a powerful enemy and were now strenuously tracking him down.

In other words, Roland had made quite a buzz among the executives of the Prism City and the Fallen Evils. Nevertheless, he was still a nobody among fellow martialists and the public. Garcia knew all that Roland had done simply because Roland needed to contact her to hand in Forces of Nature.

"Hmph... that's my duty," Roland said while clearing his throat. "Isn't it the responsibility of a martialist?"

"Yes," Garcia, to Roland's surprise, smiled, "this is the responsibility of an martialist." She handed him a piece of paper and said, "Congratulations, you're now an official member of the Martialist Association. This is your contract that has just arrived. Effective upon execution."

"I remember you only need to solve one erosion to become an official member, and I've already solved eight or ten now. That's really slow of the Prism City administration."

"Because... the Martialist Association is an interational organization."

"So I'm an official member just as you are now?"

"No," Garcia said while shaking her head and passed a brochure across the table. "Actually, you've outperformed me."

Roland opened the brochure curiously and was mildly surprised. "This is — "

"The hunting license," Garcia replied slowly, her smile fading away. "Only outstanding and dedicated martialists would be granted the license. There are no more than ten licensed martialists in this city, and the Prism City has issued no more than 100 licenses. Your rights as a licensed martialist and the matters that you need to pay particular attention to are all listed at the end of the booklet. Remember, the license not only represents the trust the Association puts in you but also a greater responsibility. I hope you could carry on and help the mankind gain the eventual victory."

"So this is what she's glad about..."

Normally, people would feel upset, jealous and frustrated when being outstripped by a new member recruited by themselves. However, Roland did not see any of these negative emotions in Garcia. She was truely happy for him, as though she was also honored.

This made Roland a little unsettled.

He knew that Garcia spoke most highly of him at the moment. Because of her high expectation, Roland now felt a surge of heavy guilt. He knew that despite her haughtiness, Garcia was a person of morality and principles. The best example was how she had helped the residents in the modular apartment stand up to the evacuation threat of the Clover Group. Thinking of the potential misunderstanding that might stand between them in the future, Roland was very troubled.

"By the way, why did you call me?" Garcia asked while sipping her tea lazily. "I've done my part. I don't think you anticipated all that, did you?"

"Er... I need your help with something." Roland had no choice but said, "Can you come to my room?"

Garcia cast him a suspicious look and said, "Sure, but is it not something that you can say here?"

"You'll know when you come over."

"OK."

Roland took a deep breath and led her to Room 0825.

As soon as they stepped into the living room, the three witches turned around, their eyes sparkling with excitement.

Then Roland felt a chill running down his spine.

"You... you finally did this!" Garcia gasped, standing rooted to the spot. "My goodness... they're still kids. I, I'm going to call the police!"