She stood on the executioner’s platform, not on her knees, but defiantly upright. Her wrists were bound not with rope, but with magnetic clamps designed to suppress "Arcane Resonance." The crowd—a sea of black coats, polished brass goggles, and expressionless masks—cheered.
Then, there was only the dark. And the clicking . koutetsu no majo annerose
She was the Iron Witch —a living paradox. A creature of cold metal who commanded forbidden blood magic. She stood on the executioner’s platform, not on
Annerose lifted her head. Rain dripped from the tip of her sharp nose and the curve of her lips. Her eyes, the color of molten copper, held no fear. Only exhaustion—and a flicker of rage that could melt steel. And the clicking
"Sorceress! Witch! Break her!"
Two hulking, steam-powered Automata dragged a rectangular coffin onto the stage. It was not made of wood or stone, but of a dark, swirling metal that seemed to drink the light itself. Koutetsu— Cold Iron. The bane of all fae, spirit, and witch-flesh.
