It was another week later, in the dead of night, within the cellar of a church.
The Homebody Witch hummed a tune while twisting her waist and forcefully stirring the huge long-handled spoon in the Potion Cauldron where the Magic Potion was brewing.
"Tsk, it's been a whole week, why isn't there any movement yet? Tsk tsk tsk, no news is good news, after all. When there's movement, it often spells the beginning of tragedy."
Dorothy shook her head, correcting her thoughts that had almost slipped away.
In the past week, she had completed the "missionary" work on the outskirts and fringe districts of the City of Sin; several hundred of those little hammer necklaces had been sent out. After all, seeds of Strength were already sown, so what remained was to quietly wait for these seeds to take root and sprout.
