"Go on. Put your hands on the stone," Gregory ordered.

     Taking a deep, quivering breath, Oliver places his hands on the stone's smooth but cold surface. A shiver runs down his spine as his fingertips meet the rock. Oliver then closes his eyes, furrowing his brows and tightening his lips.

     Meanwhile, Gregory gathers his thoughts, channelling his energy. Holding his wand, he rises from the floor and swirls its glistening orb above Oliver's head. As he does, he whispers spells, casting a cold but gentle breeze within the room. Slowly, Oliver's hands emit dark, violet fog, passing onto the stone's surface.

     In the meantime, the others, including Jean, watch from the side of the lobby. They stare at the ritual, their hearts praying for the best outcome. Their mouths remain sealed and silent, refusing to let words pass through. As they stand motionlessly and observe, the wind brushes their locks, tousling their sleek, tidy hair.

     As Gregory concludes the incantation, Oliver discreetly peeks through his left eye, directing a fleeting glance downward. To his astonishment, he discerns that the stone he summoned has transformed into a captivating violet hue. As Oliver takes a deep breath, he realizes the pain that once tormented him has vanished—as if he has never experienced any illness.

"It's done," Gregory declared.

     Quickly, Oliver pulls his hand away from the stone, sickened by the misty effect that exudes from its surface. Oliver takes a deep breath through his mouth, and realization descends upon him as he feels no stinging pain piercing his body. Casting a swift glance at his palms, Oliver sighs and closes his eyes.

"Quickly. Disintegrate the stone," Gregory commanded with a firm voice.

     Oliver swiftly slashes his hand through the air. In response, the stone fractures, shattering into countless fragments. Like falling sand, the once-solid rocks dissolve into minuscule specks of dust, gradually dissipating into nothingness.

"How're you feeling now?" Gregory asked, placing a tender hand on Oliver's shoulder.

"I..." Oliver responded. "I feel no pain anymore," he said, gazing at his palms. "I feel better. I can't believe you did it, Gregory."

Gregory straightened his posture. "Even though we have succeeded, I must confess that even as a master wizard, I encountered considerable difficulties lifting the curse." Inhaling deeply, Gregory stated, "The witch is too powerful and must be stopped in person. Otherwise, the witch will just put another curse upon you and even upon me for terminating her black magic." Looking down, Gregory placed a firm hand on his hip and suggested, "We should do something."

     Jean watches in the background with a silent mouth. His brows furrow as he ponders the witch's capability and reflects upon the vast possibilities that the future holds. Recognizing the love his adoptive father has given, Jean's confidence and bravery surge forth, willing to confront the witch by himself.

In unison, Jean and Oliver stated, "I'll confront the witch."

     A shrill gasp passes through everyone's lips as their eyes converge upon Jean. Surprised by Jean's act, Oliver swiftly turns his head and looks at Jean with fearful eyes. He quickly rises from the floor and hastens towards Jean, unwilling to let him go.

"What?" Oliver gasped.

"I said, I... I will go..." Jean repeated, with confidence etched on his voice. "I will go, Dad."

"I won't let you go," Oliver said. "You're too young."

"When you faced your first battle, we were almost the same age," Jean reasoned, furrowing his eyebrows defiantly. "I believe I can do this. For you, Dad. For everything you've done selflessly for me. For everything you've done when I was young."

"The difference between us is that I possess a physical power that I can use against foes," Oliver countered, gritting his teeth.

"But Dad—"

"Jean," Josephine interjected. "Please listen to your father..."

"But... Mom... I—"

"Jean, go to your room and rest. We adults will discuss this," Oliver ordered kindly.

Jean sighed in disbelief. "I, as well, Father, am already an adult," he stated.

     Exasperated, Jean swiftly turns on his heels and leaves the lobby with a long frown. He then passes through the doorway, narrowly slamming the door in frustration. Meanwhile, the rest stare at each other in confusion, perplexed by the unfolding problem.

"Oliver...? What should we do?" Gregory asked, seeking Oliver's guidance.

Oliver exhaled sharply. "You know? Just like the old times, we face the threat head-on. There is no running from it."

Gregory smirked. "I'm with you," he affirmed. He then asked, "But how will we track the witch?"