Chapter 14: In the Shadows

As Claudius watched Elaine being taken out of the dungeon by the group of swordsmen, he suddenly felt tears welling up in the corners of his eyes.

This was weakness. Absolutely a symbol of weakness. In the past, Claudius would have been furious with himself for such a reaction. He had always viewed himself as the strongest, the most perfect, the most successful embodiment of power, akin to a god standing atop the world, looking down on the masses like they were mere grass. In his eyes, all enjoyment, warmth, smiles, and tears were signs of weakness, characteristics of the worthless. He didn't just reject these things; he loathed them with extreme disgust, much like a poet devoted to beauty would recoil at the sight of a rotting corpse, excrement, and the writhing maggots crawling upon them.

But now, he felt no longer cared, even somewhat relieved. Setting aside the madness he had unleashed during his time in the cell, this was, at least in his memory, the first time he had cried.

Just over a month ago, he was the renowned squad lead of Knights Templar, the disciple of the empire's greatest swordsman, the top knight of the royal capital, and the deputy to the most powerful Duke Murak, even regarded as an heir. But suddenly, he was nothing. He was even lower than the most wretched commoners—just a prisoner, not even considered a person, merely a tool for threatening others.

He had fallen from the heights of glory, fame, and power to hell, and it was the duke, whom he had once revered like a deity, who had kicked him down like garbage. He had completely collapsed, nearly losing his mind. But here, he faced only the cold walls and iron bars, and Elaine who treated him like a madman, with no one to care for him. After countless futile outbursts and painful madness, he finally accepted reality and woke up.

The woman who was nominally his wife, although also held captive as a hostage, remained calm and composed. It was as if she was preparing for a rare celebration. It dawned on him that he had always detested her for this reason: in the face of her genuine strength, he felt like a coward cloaked in self-importance. He had always envied her, even liked her, but he feared feeling inferior in her presence, feared discovering that he was worthless. That was why he had loathed and avoided her.

Watching her walk toward the pyre with a tranquil expression, seemingly with a hint of anticipation, made Claudius's heart ache. He couldn't believe there were fools who would knowingly walk to their doom, yet he also understood that the duke never acted without confidence.

After she had left for a long while, commotion finally erupted above the dungeon. Claudius could deduce from the soldiers' shouts and movements that the fool who had come to die was finally here. Was it for love? What a hopeless idiot.

The commotion did not last long. Soon, excited voices from the royal guards filtered down through the vents, talking about how evil and ruthless the necromancer was, how brilliant and valiant the duke was, and how he had leaped to cut down the two escapees. Now, the wanted criminal had been taken to the duke's mansion for questioning.

Claudius knew what the duke's interrogation entailed: it was merely about squeezing out the last remnants of usefulness from this dying person. For the sake of some pathetic love, to brave the execution grounds, how noble was that? How grand? In the end, it was still just about being captured by the duke, drained of the last bit of value, and then disposed of like garbage.

Garbage. Claudius managed a bitter smile. He felt a twinge of envy in his heart. The fool had willingly chosen to die, and before death, they could display a bit of heroism in front of thousands. But now, he was just waiting to die in this dungeon.

A jarring metallic scraping sound suddenly echoed through the dungeon. The door to the dungeon opened, followed by another harsh clang as it closed.

Claudius was somewhat surprised; the duke should have been too busy to concern himself with him right now. He was a high-profile prisoner; unless the duke ordered it, no one was allowed to interact with him. He could hear the footsteps of three people approaching. Gradually, the chatter among the soldiers outside had completely quieted down, leaving only these three footsteps echoing in the dungeon.

The footsteps of the three reached the front of Claudius's cell. In the dim light of the flickering flames, he could see two priests in white robes and a captain of the royal guards. When they entered, they shut the door, clearly not intending to take anyone out.

"Are you here to send me on my way?" Claudius asked nonchalantly, sitting on the ground. Secretly executing prisoners was not a new occurrence, especially for someone like him, who knew too much. As for death, he felt somewhat indifferent to it now—whether it was numbness or complete acceptance of reality, he couldn't tell.

"Yes," one of the priests chuckled lightly. His easy tone was oddly mismatched with the grim and dark dungeon and the task he had come to perform.

Claudius forced a bitter smile. It seemed the duke had grown too lazy to do it himself. He asked, "May I ask one last question?"

"You can ask as many as you want," the priest replied, wearing a humorless smile.

"What happened to my father?"

"That question is best directed to him," the priest said, maintaining that strange expression, which in the flickering light looked almost like a deliberately made-up grimace. He took out a scroll and tossed it to Claudius.

Claudius was momentarily stunned. If they had thrown in a spell to blow him to bits or a vial of poison, he would have been prepared. But it was just a scroll. He picked it up and, sensing the faint magical fluctuations from it, identified it as a teleportation scroll. The scroll was quite exquisite, with small skulls engraved at both ends, glowing softly and radiating a unique magical aura. Claudius furrowed his brow and asked, "Is this a teleportation scroll?"

"Of course."

Were they going to teleport him somewhere first and then kill him in secret? Or was this just a cheap scroll that would send him to some mysterious place to die? But such a dull trick was not something the duke would do. Claudius struggled to speculate but still couldn't understand. He asked, "Where does this teleportation scroll lead?"

"To Dehya Valley, of course," the priest replied nonchalantly.

"Dehya Valley…" Claudius murmured, then reflexively jumped up, his voice trembling slightly. "Are you from the necromancer guild?" Although he had reached this stage, the concept of 'death' held no fear for him anymore. But the name 'Dehya Valley' carried a weight far beyond the mere concept of 'death.'

"Go quickly. Your father should be waiting for you there. It was he who sent us to rescue you," another priest answered.

"My father sent you to rescue me? He's waiting for me in Dehya Valley?" Claudius repeated the phrases laboriously, as if he were a child just learning to speak, trying to grasp the implications behind them. Was it some sort of deception? But what purpose would there be in tricking someone about to die? Could it be true? But how did his father relate to the necromancer guild?

"By the way, change your clothes with this person." The necromancer-looking priest walked to the cell and muttered a few words under his breath, touching the heavy steel lock with his hand. After a series of odd sizzling sounds, he twisted the lock, and it opened.

This lock was specially made to prevent the most dangerous prisoners from escaping; even an ogre couldn't possibly open it by sheer force. A peculiar smell of melted metal hung in the air; the lock's exterior appeared unscathed, but the interior was undoubtedly a complete mess. Being able to control magic within such a small range to produce such a significant effect made the level of magic represented by this trick look utterly amateurish compared to the top mages in the magic academy.

The guard dressed as a knight walked into the cell, and it was then that Claudius noticed the guard's blank expression and the stiff movements, as if he were a giant marionette. Following the necromancer's instructions, Claudius exchanged his clothes with the guard. As he did so, his usually sharp mind felt muddled and numb, and he began to doubt whether he was in a dream.

He had thought that no matter what news he heard or what changes he faced, he would no longer be surprised. However, in what he believed to be his last moments, he found out that someone was coming to save him. But the ones coming to his rescue were not angels; they were the legendary messengers of hell, and they were sent by his father... Everything had surpassed his original understanding, as if he had suddenly jumped into a made-up story.

Just as he finished changing his clothes, the necromancer made a gesture. The guard wearing Claudius's clothes suddenly bent down and lowered his head, charging toward the cell wall in a manner resembling a cow, and in an instant, his head shattered like an egg, with blood and brain matter splattering onto Claudius's face.

"Quickly go. Haven't you stayed here long enough?" the necromancer urged.

Grabbing the teleportation scroll, Claudius hesitated for a moment before abruptly opening it. A blue magical light immediately illuminated the entire dungeon.

"I have to admit, Inham is quite clever; it seems everything is going according to his plan. Coming to save this kid at this time indeed saves a lot of effort," the necromancer murmured as he looked at the empty cell after Claudius left. "We can also quietly wait for good news here."

"Occasionally playing the role of a thief is quite interesting, but wearing this thing for too long is not good for the skin. That silver mask is much more comfortable and elegant," another necromancer said, removing a mask from his face to reveal an elegant and dignified face. It was Bishop Adela.

The other necromancer also removed his mask; he was a plump, well-groomed middle-aged man. He rubbed his face with his clean, delicate hands and sighed, "It really is quite interesting. I haven't felt this tense in a long time; it reminds me of the adventures from many years ago. Inham was right; changing the previous strategy and daring to come here really has many surprises."

"Indeed, there are a lot of surprises," Bishop Adela nodded with a smile. "First of all, we encountered our previous acting guild leader, old man Sandru, safe and sound. Inham was right; if he hadn't died, he would definitely have been present at the execution. The best disguise, after all, is to dress up as a priest. Although wearing a mask, magic will never lie. The only priest in the entire square who didn't use white magic had the best detoxification effect. Hehe."

"The biggest surprise is that we finally waited for that kid," the middle-aged man said with a smile. "Inham was right; he really came. Did you see? That kid used Sandru's zombie technique. He operated it quite well."

"It's a pity that the poison he used was completely ineffectual. I could sense that the toxins in that corpse seemed to have required a lot of magical power to create, right?"

"Indeed. But the poison was so lacking in artistry; all that magic was wasted. It was like a clumsy chef who spent enormous effort and countless precious materials, only to cobble together a large and unwieldy stew. Surprisingly, more than half of the people didn't get poisoned. If anyone from the guild had come, not a single person in the square would have survived," the middle-aged man shook his head and sighed. "It seems this kid is only proficient in zombie techniques, perhaps due to the Leaf of the World Tree."

"But that kid's mind is still quite useful; he almost really managed to rescue them. It's just a shame it ultimately fell short," Adela frowned and sighed with regret, as if he had failed himself. "What a pity…"

"Yeah, what a pity…" The middle-aged man sighed. "If only they had held on a bit longer."

"Do you know? If it weren't for the presence of the esteemed Sandru, I would have cast a lightning bolt to turn that troublesome duke into a roasted pig."

"Haha, if that had happened, those two could have left the capital smoothly... We wouldn't have to wait here, and we could have dealt with the ones we needed to kill or capture, extracting the whereabouts of our beloved Leaf of the World Tree. I'm also very curious how many of our gargoyles a bipedal dragon can handle?"

"Don't worry; there will be plenty of opportunities to experiment later. For now, let's quietly wait for news here. The esteemed Sandru is unexpectedly entangled with that knight captain; I believe the news we receive will be good news, hehe…"

Before long, the door of the dungeon was opened again. A man dressed as a priest walked in and closed the door behind him.

"I seem to smell good news, esteemed Nimbras," Adela said with a smile.

The necromancer named Nimbras stepped forward, sighed, and said, "There is good news."

"Is there bad news too?" Adela looked surprised.

"Let me first explain what the good news is," Nimbras sighed. "The duke took that kid for a private interrogation, and then I saw our former acting guild leader Sandru and the knight captain waiting at the duke's residence. They had evacuated all the guards from the duke's residence. I knew there would be a good show."

"What kind of good show?"

"Unfortunately, I couldn't see the true spectacle behind the scenes; I could only guess from what was performed outside. Before long, Sandru and the captain rushed in. Shortly after that, news came out that the duke had been killed. The killer was that kid; he broke free and killed the duke. Then that kid escaped, with Sandru and the captain in pursuit. As for the result, they naturally lost him."

"Haha, that really is good news. Since they lost him, it's our turn," Adela clapped his hands. "Alright, what are we waiting for? Let's go."

"Don't you want to hear my bad news?" Nimbras said with a wry smile, not moving.

"What bad news?" Adela and the middle-aged man frowned in unison.

"The bad news is that we can only go back and cannot pursue that kid," Nimbras said weakly.

"Why?" The two necromancers were both taken aback. Three necromancers working together to capture one person was overkill; it was akin to using a sledgehammer to crack a nut. Since Sandru had separated from the target, they could act freely.

The middle-aged man suddenly noticed a problem. Nimbras had stood at the top of the stairs since entering the dungeon, neither coming down nor going up. The middle-aged man asked, "Why are you just standing there?"

"Because I dare not move," Nimbras replied with a wry smile. "There's a dagger pointed at the back of my neck."

A dark golden skull mask floated out from behind Nimbras. It took a moment to realize that it was actually a figure blending in with the darkness of the surrounding dungeon. One of the figure's hands held a pitch-black dagger, which was now pressed against Nimbras's throat.

After a moment of surprise, the middle-aged man immediately bowed his head, his voice full of astonishment and a hint of excitement. "I didn't expect to see you here, the esteemed and beautiful Agrenel. Your grace and skill are still as unmatched as the first time I met you…"

"Enough. You seem to be the same as ever, Nopolinot. Still so talkative," the dark golden skull mask nodded. It drifted a few steps away from Nimbras. Nimbras sighed in relief and rubbed his neck but still didn't move.

"I wonder what brings you here?" the middle-aged man asked respectfully.

"I heard that Sandru was dead, so I came to take a look. As a result, I accidentally encountered a scouting owl. I casually followed the magical aura and, to my surprise, really found him," the skull replied.

"But the esteemed Mr. Sandru still seems to be full of vigor. We saw that he apparently even joined the Magical Academy; you could check it out…"

"I've seen him," the dark golden skull nodded. "But for you guys—I heard from Nimbras, You three came here just to catch that kid? Hmph, when did the noble Necromancer Guild become like those bandit rogues, relying on numbers to win?"

"Alas, there's no choice. That kid knows the whereabouts of the Leaf of the World Tree. You know we are determined to acquire that…"

"And then what? I heard you plan to kill him because he is the one referred to by Archibald as the one who gathers power. Have you forgotten the rules set by Lord Archibald?"

"Uh…" The middle-aged man Nopolinot wiped the sweat from his brow, glancing at Nimbras standing above. Nimbras made a gesture of helplessness.

"I've heard you've locked up that girl Vadenina. Though I have never liked her, she is still a member of the guild. You dare to engage in infighting in the sacred Dehya Valley?" The voice from the dark golden skull floated down, not loud but icy enough to chill one to the bone. "The noble Necromancer Guild has become a filthy den of intrigue and rivalry in your hands. Such people do not deserve to stay in Dehya Valley."

Adela, who had been silent, spoke up: "This is a decision made collectively by all guild members, esteemed former acting guild leader." His voice was soft and friendly, brief yet clear in its intent.

The gaze from beneath the skull mask flickered to Adela's face. Adela maintained his poised and dignified smile.

After a long pause, the light behind the skull mask dimmed, and it sighed helplessly. "Right. I'm no longer a member of the guild. Your matters seem to be beyond my concern." Just as Nopolinot and Nimbras were about to relax, the voice continued, "I won't interfere in the future, but today you must return."

The three necromancers exchanged glances. Today was undoubtedly a perfect opportunity; otherwise, it would be difficult to find that kid once he went into hiding.

"Take out your teleportation scrolls and open them," the voice commanded softly, yet it carried an undeniable weight and authority.

Adela's smile became even more radiant, almost bashful as he said, "Esteemed Lady Agrenel, while you are our former acting guild leader, you cannot…" Just as he was smiling the brightest and softest, his hand shot forward, and a surge of white light instantly filled the entire cell.

'Paralysis Spell.' The most notable offensive auxiliary magic in white magic. While it couldn't deal direct damage, it could completely disrupt and disorient the life force within a body under the influence of white magic, leaving the target unable to move. In the hands of a mage of Adela's caliber, even a massive creature like a behemoth would likely be immobilized for a good while.

However, the one frozen was not the figure wearing the dark golden mask, but Adela himself.

The black dagger was now pressed against Adela's neck, and the two sharp prongs extending from the blade resembled demonic claws. Adela could feel the hairs around his neck shedding like leaves in an icy wind.

"The greatest strength of youth is the endless ambition and courage to challenge authority. This is the reason for progress," the dark golden skull floated behind Adela, showing no signs of wind or movement, as if it had always been there. "But the greatest flaw is ignorance of one's own limitations. This is the reason many die."

"Hmph. Please remember, we have three people." The smile on Adela's face vanished. White magic began to flicker around him.

"I can see your white magic is quite impressive; for your age, it's remarkable," the voice from beneath the dark golden skull was calm and unhurried. "But if this Nix Dagger pierces you, I guarantee that even if all the priests from the magic academy come, they will only watch you turn into a mummy."

"Please, show mercy. The youth truly does not understand…" Nopolinot and Nimbras showed no signs of intervening, merely standing to the side. They were not young and impulsive; they were well aware of who they were facing and the current situation. Even if the three mages could defeat an entire army in the capital, in this small space against a top assassin, they were essentially like three rabbits.

"I am also a member of the guild. Are you really going to kill me?" Adela, though no longer smiling, did not appear anxious.

"If you had cast an offensive spell earlier, you would already be a corpse. I haven't killed anyone in many years; I hope you don't force me today." The dagger pulled away from Adela's neck, and the tone of command grew even heavier. "I'll say it again: take out your teleportation scrolls and open them."

Nopolinot sighed and turned to peek into Claudius's cell. He muttered a few incantations, and several magical spells struck the three stone walls. With a loud boom, the cell collapsed, trapping the corpse beneath the fallen stones.

Outside, the sounds of soldiers became noisy. The soldiers who had been put to sleep by the hypnosis spell finally awoke and were rushing in.

Nopolinot and Nimbras took out their teleportation scrolls and opened them. Adela hesitated for a moment but was forced to follow suit with his companions and took out his teleportation scroll.

When the door opened, the soldiers rushing in saw only the empty dungeon and the collapsed cell.

At the headquarters of the Knights Templar, Captain Roland was just about to send someone to release Claudius from the cell when he received news that the dungeon had collapsed due to years of neglect and water seepage, crushing the prisoner inside.

Captain Roland was furious. He knew that his disciple must have many secrets of the duke, and he had been waiting to resolve the duke's issue before releasing him to ask questions. But now, many unknown matters would be lost to darkness forever.

Amidst the anger was also heartache. That was his disciple whom he had nurtured for many years. But since the incident had already happened, there was no use mourning. Moreover, now was going to be the busiest time, and all his energy needed to be focused on this aspect.

Fortunately, he saw a more capable and talented individual. Captain Roland decided to take him on as his disciple.