Chapter 127
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If only this scene was an illusion.
Oliver still looked away as he couldn’t bear watching it any longer. The scene after the cage became more terrifying. There was no blood or pain, but cold numbness. Those sophisticated metal instruments and array weren’t specially design for malice. Every detail was full of calm organization, and everything was orderly.
There was no roar of pain and no look of resistance. Only a small cry subconsciously made by living things. The “common sense” in this castle seemed to have been redefined. It seemed that such treatment of humans was just a matter of course, and there was no need to make any ideological struggle.
This should be deliberate. No matter what their intention were, they did succeed in destroying most of his positive emotions. Oliver began to stare at the ground. The gray and smooth stony ground was clearly illuminated by a pale light.
He counted the gaps in the stone bricks and moved his legs to the most efficient way, trying to accumulate the only remaining physical strength his mind has left.
The road full of torture was extremely long. He may had been walking for a hundred years before the incomplete guide in front of him stopped. Oliver, who was counting the cracks in the bricks almost bumped into the man’s back.
The incomplete humanoid object turned around, and the arm that was no thicker than a bone shook for a while. A metal tag was drawn from the loose clothes— There was a shiny metal ring hanging at the end of the sign, half the size of a palm. Except for the long section of the thin chain between the ring and the sign, it was no different than those worn by the people in the cages just now.
The man threw the metal tag at Oliver randomly. The ring at the end of the tag moved like a living animal and got into Oliver’s collar through the gap in the armor. Then came the severe pain of his flesh being penetrated, accompanied by the feeling of warm blood flowing out of his skin. Just like those cages encountered, it should have also encircled his clavicle.
The metal tag on the other end of the chain was still dangling in front of his armor causing a fine noise of metal hitting metal.
“Take a good look at the brand,” the guide squeezed a broken voice out of his throat. “It doesn’t matter if you can’t read.”
Then the stone wall slid away.
Oliver was pushed in before he could see what was on the other side of the wall. He staggered a few steps under his feet but in the end, he didn’t have the strength to maintain his balance and firmly fell to the ground, almost knocking off his skeleton helmet.
Then he heard breathing.
Despite his exhaustion, long-term combat training still left him with keen enough insight. Judging from the distance of the sound, this should be a very large room, accommodating at least fifty people or more. Their gaze came out of the dark corners and Oliver could feel those eyes wandering on him. He didn’t choose to stand up immediately but clenched the hilt of his sword with his right hand and his muscle tightened.
However, apart from the aggravated breathing sound, no other sound was added in the space. No one approached him. They were patiently observing, like insects hiding in dark crevices.
Oliver finally stood up slowly and clenched the swaying card. Through the faint light in the room, he could see most of the room clearly.
‘Like a tomb,’ was his first thought.
As narrow as the shelf used to hold dead bones, people laid in coffin-like cramped wooden frames. The shelf had about five layers of shelves, and the lower level was much emptier than the upper. Oliver raised his head slightly. There were also many people sitting against the wall, motionless, that he almost regarded them as stone carvings.
There was no shortage of men, women, and children that were “stone carvings”, but at first glance it looked dominated by men in their prime. Except for less than ten people wearing standard thin cloth white robes, the rest of them have their own style of clothing, and the cold light of weapons leaked out from the darkness bit by bit from time to time. It seemed that they should be the same as him. He wasn’t asked to change into other clothes, nor was anything taken away.
They were staring at him together, their slowly turning eyeballs resembled those carved out of a dark stone and were quite lifeless. Oliver swore that he smelled the stench of ulceration and a peculiar foul smell of pus.
Oliver took a careful breath. He walked around as quietly as possible, found a relatively empty corner, and stuffed his back to it. It was imperative to regain his strength, and then make plans.
The beating heart that was like a pounding drum gradually stabilized. He could now hear the sour sucking sound of the live collar on his neck. Oliver tried to use the saved strength to cast a condensation spell, but the soft blue light didn’t light up at all and was accompanied by a raging pain despite such a weak spell.
This time Oliver suppressed the pain and didn’t make a sound.
His throat was parched, and his brain was screaming with thirst. The dry air in the room aggravated his pain and after a fierce battle, his thinking was becoming chaotic and slow due to the lack of water. How long has it been since he drank water? One day? Two?
The instinctive anxiety of the body made him uncontrollably depressed.
This won’t work. Oliver licked the corners of his bitten mouth. In this terrible unknown environment, negative emotions were like a dangerous swamp. Once he stepped in, there would be no ending other than sinking. He must keep his spirts up, but not out of some kind of ideal optimism. He could only do this. It was his only choice.
Even if all common sense was broken here, at least he still had emotion outside the influence of this hellhole. Oliver changed the sword to his left hand and removed the armor from his left forehand with his right.
The transaction seal that Nemo had branded him had long since expired, and at this moment it almost had completely faded, leaving only a very pale white mark on his skin.
The edge of the black armor left a lot of fine gaps because of the battle. Oliver carefully broke off a thin piece of metal and cut his skin along the white traces. He paddled through the dim light, moving carefully until the weird mark reappeared in blood.
Then Oliver put his cracked lips against the wound and sucked the fresh blood. The thick blood made him nauseous, and Oliver knew that it would have no practical effect, but the blood flowing through his throat had a more or less a soothing effect. He was finally able to concentrate again and started to think.
The metal sheet was so sharp that it didn’t leave too bad a wound under his control. The blood soon stopped pouring out and left only a slightly swollen mark behind.
After all this, Oliver closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and then clenched the slightly shaking metal tag with his blood-stained fingers.
On the front of the card was a string of numbers written in the lingua franca; just 300,000. He didn’t know if the dim light made him hallucinate as those strokes seemed to be trembling slightly. While looking at the long string of numbers, his fingers touched something uneven behind the metal sign.
Oliver frowned and turned the card over. There were just a few words on the back of the card. Their meaning transcended the words themselves and went directly into his mind…
If you win the specified battle, you can seize one hundred points from the enemy.
Killing others can get you one hundred points, plus the value of the deceased.
People who have lost all their value that are still alive will be transferred to the test area for processing. Please be advised.
Oliver went silent for a long time. After a full half a minute, he released the metal tag, leaving only a few bloody fingerprints on it. He leaned his lips closer to the engraving again, but this time it wasn’t for blood…
He kissed it.
Then he raised his head and faced the projected eyes again.
“I’ll get out alive, Nemo,” he announced to himself. “…Get out here alive in a way that won’t let you down.”
On the other side, at night in Kenyatta.
Nemo stood still on top of his target building, then slipped back to the ground along the darkest corner, moving as lightly as someone’s sleeping breath. He wanted to break through the fragile door directly, but the movement of his right hand stagnated for a moment in the night, and finally turned into a polite knock on the door.
The man who came to open the door wasn’t very tall. He looked about forty or fifty years old and was as thin as a malnourished vulture. There were obvious excessive bags under his eyes, and his eyes rolled up slightly, revealing parts of white as he stared at Nemo politely.
In order to avoid looking too unnatural, Nemo dissipated the dark shadows covering his face at this moment, revealing only his fair-skinned chin, but that was enough to make people see his age.
“What’s the matter, boy?” the man who opened the door asked impatiently.
“You’re a demon worshipper of the Abyssal Church, right?” Nemo asked in a polite tone, distorting his voice with a bit of magic. He had never liked the way of asking questions directly. Such questioning was a bit tough, so it was hard for him to control the words, thus he blurted everything out at that moment, “…sir?”
The man’s pupils shrank. His hand had moved very fast before Nemo’s voice had stopped. When his gesture finished…
Nothing happened.
The big demon in the room didn’t obey his orders. It ran into the bottom of the table as if it was fleeing for its life and began to shiver uncontrollably. The table shook together as the legs trembled against the floor.
“It seems you are.” Nemo retracted his gaze from the direction of the table a little apologetically and his speed of speech began to speed up uncontrollably. “I just want to ask a few questions and leave after asking.”
“I have nothing to say to people like you.” The man knew the situation wasn’t good. He bared his browned teeth and spit out a thick phlegm on the floor at Nemo’s feet. “Which false God are you the spokesperson for?”
“I really just want to ask a few questions.” Nemo stretched out a hand and the unique brilliance of Abyssal Magic lit up the whole room. It was dark at night, and the air in the nearby area was quiet and peaceful, but he became more restless for unknown reasons. “In a more polite way—”
The demon worshipper glanced at his own demon that was shaking more violently in horror. His gaze swept across the non-aggressive array, and finally stayed on the small half of Nemo’s face. He tried to find traces of obvious deformation, but he failed miserably— Then he realized a certain possibility.
“They… They dispatched a demon warlock, or…?” the tone of the demon worshipper instantly softened. “Which Bishop are you from…”
If he spoke more, he would make more mistake. Nemo was silent, not planning to make up nonsense. Although he knew that if he wanted to, he could take away all the information he wanted from this person within half a second— But no matter which method he used, that person’s brain would become a bloody mess afterwards.
He didn’t want to do that.
“Don’t worry about that. I’m in a hurry. Who summoned the Deadwood Jellyfish in Roadside Town?” Nemo clenched the black mist-entangled staff in his hand. His voice was a little dry. “Tell me everything you know.”
“Okay… Okay, dear sir.”
Nemo thought that things were going well. He only needed to go to the vicinity of Roadside Town to find enough evidence to confirm the safety of the town. Then he could tear open the space, throw the prisoner directly at the door of the Insular Court and take Oliver away in a dignified manner.
But he couldn’t feel at ease or even breathe a sigh of relief. In theory, everything was still under control, but there was a cold thorn in his heart.
Nemo adjusted his breathing rhythm for a while, raised his head again, and stared at the opponent’s mouth.
Hurry up. Faster. His intuition was screaming.
He must get Oliver back as soon as possible.
In the next second, a bright white light mercilessly split the peaceful night sky. Nemo turned abruptly and looked in its direction. No doubt, it was magic from the Laddism Church…
But the aura wasn’t anyone he knew.
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If only this scene was an illusion.
Oliver still looked away as he couldn’t bear watching it any longer. The scene after the cage became more terrifying. There was no blood or pain, but cold numbness. Those sophisticated metal instruments and array weren’t specially design for malice. Every detail was full of calm organization, and everything was orderly.
There was no roar of pain and no look of resistance. Only a small cry subconsciously made by living things. The “common sense” in this castle seemed to have been redefined. It seemed that such treatment of humans was just a matter of course, and there was no need to make any ideological struggle.
This should be deliberate. No matter what their intention were, they did succeed in destroying most of his positive emotions. Oliver began to stare at the ground. The gray and smooth stony ground was clearly illuminated by a pale light.
He counted the gaps in the stone bricks and moved his legs to the most efficient way, trying to accumulate the only remaining physical strength his mind has left.
The road full of torture was extremely long. He may had been walking for a hundred years before the incomplete guide in front of him stopped. Oliver, who was counting the cracks in the bricks almost bumped into the man’s back.
The incomplete humanoid object turned around, and the arm that was no thicker than a bone shook for a while. A metal tag was drawn from the loose clothes— There was a shiny metal ring hanging at the end of the sign, half the size of a palm. Except for the long section of the thin chain between the ring and the sign, it was no different than those worn by the people in the cages just now.
The man threw the metal tag at Oliver randomly. The ring at the end of the tag moved like a living animal and got into Oliver’s collar through the gap in the armor. Then came the severe pain of his flesh being penetrated, accompanied by the feeling of warm blood flowing out of his skin. Just like those cages encountered, it should have also encircled his clavicle.
The metal tag on the other end of the chain was still dangling in front of his armor causing a fine noise of metal hitting metal.
“Take a good look at the brand,” the guide squeezed a broken voice out of his throat. “It doesn’t matter if you can’t read.”
Then the stone wall slid away.
Oliver was pushed in before he could see what was on the other side of the wall. He staggered a few steps under his feet but in the end, he didn’t have the strength to maintain his balance and firmly fell to the ground, almost knocking off his skeleton helmet.
Then he heard breathing.
Despite his exhaustion, long-term combat training still left him with keen enough insight. Judging from the distance of the sound, this should be a very large room, accommodating at least fifty people or more. Their gaze came out of the dark corners and Oliver could feel those eyes wandering on him. He didn’t choose to stand up immediately but clenched the hilt of his sword with his right hand and his muscle tightened.
However, apart from the aggravated breathing sound, no other sound was added in the space. No one approached him. They were patiently observing, like insects hiding in dark crevices.
Oliver finally stood up slowly and clenched the swaying card. Through the faint light in the room, he could see most of the room clearly.
‘Like a tomb,’ was his first thought.
As narrow as the shelf used to hold dead bones, people laid in coffin-like cramped wooden frames. The shelf had about five layers of shelves, and the lower level was much emptier than the upper. Oliver raised his head slightly. There were also many people sitting against the wall, motionless, that he almost regarded them as stone carvings.
There was no shortage of men, women, and children that were “stone carvings”, but at first glance it looked dominated by men in their prime. Except for less than ten people wearing standard thin cloth white robes, the rest of them have their own style of clothing, and the cold light of weapons leaked out from the darkness bit by bit from time to time. It seemed that they should be the same as him. He wasn’t asked to change into other clothes, nor was anything taken away.
They were staring at him together, their slowly turning eyeballs resembled those carved out of a dark stone and were quite lifeless. Oliver swore that he smelled the stench of ulceration and a peculiar foul smell of pus.
Oliver took a careful breath. He walked around as quietly as possible, found a relatively empty corner, and stuffed his back to it. It was imperative to regain his strength, and then make plans.
The beating heart that was like a pounding drum gradually stabilized. He could now hear the sour sucking sound of the live collar on his neck. Oliver tried to use the saved strength to cast a condensation spell, but the soft blue light didn’t light up at all and was accompanied by a raging pain despite such a weak spell.
This time Oliver suppressed the pain and didn’t make a sound.
His throat was parched, and his brain was screaming with thirst. The dry air in the room aggravated his pain and after a fierce battle, his thinking was becoming chaotic and slow due to the lack of water. How long has it been since he drank water? One day? Two?
The instinctive anxiety of the body made him uncontrollably depressed.
This won’t work. Oliver licked the corners of his bitten mouth. In this terrible unknown environment, negative emotions were like a dangerous swamp. Once he stepped in, there would be no ending other than sinking. He must keep his spirts up, but not out of some kind of ideal optimism. He could only do this. It was his only choice.
Even if all common sense was broken here, at least he still had emotion outside the influence of this hellhole. Oliver changed the sword to his left hand and removed the armor from his left forehand with his right.
The transaction seal that Nemo had branded him had long since expired, and at this moment it almost had completely faded, leaving only a very pale white mark on his skin.
The edge of the black armor left a lot of fine gaps because of the battle. Oliver carefully broke off a thin piece of metal and cut his skin along the white traces. He paddled through the dim light, moving carefully until the weird mark reappeared in blood.
Then Oliver put his cracked lips against the wound and sucked the fresh blood. The thick blood made him nauseous, and Oliver knew that it would have no practical effect, but the blood flowing through his throat had a more or less a soothing effect. He was finally able to concentrate again and started to think.
The metal sheet was so sharp that it didn’t leave too bad a wound under his control. The blood soon stopped pouring out and left only a slightly swollen mark behind.
After all this, Oliver closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and then clenched the slightly shaking metal tag with his blood-stained fingers.
On the front of the card was a string of numbers written in the lingua franca; just 300,000. He didn’t know if the dim light made him hallucinate as those strokes seemed to be trembling slightly. While looking at the long string of numbers, his fingers touched something uneven behind the metal sign.
Oliver frowned and turned the card over. There were just a few words on the back of the card. Their meaning transcended the words themselves and went directly into his mind…
If you win the specified battle, you can seize one hundred points from the enemy.
Killing others can get you one hundred points, plus the value of the deceased.
People who have lost all their value that are still alive will be transferred to the test area for processing. Please be advised.
Oliver went silent for a long time. After a full half a minute, he released the metal tag, leaving only a few bloody fingerprints on it. He leaned his lips closer to the engraving again, but this time it wasn’t for blood…
He kissed it.
Then he raised his head and faced the projected eyes again.
“I’ll get out alive, Nemo,” he announced to himself. “…Get out here alive in a way that won’t let you down.”
On the other side, at night in Kenyatta.
Nemo stood still on top of his target building, then slipped back to the ground along the darkest corner, moving as lightly as someone’s sleeping breath. He wanted to break through the fragile door directly, but the movement of his right hand stagnated for a moment in the night, and finally turned into a polite knock on the door.
The man who came to open the door wasn’t very tall. He looked about forty or fifty years old and was as thin as a malnourished vulture. There were obvious excessive bags under his eyes, and his eyes rolled up slightly, revealing parts of white as he stared at Nemo politely.
In order to avoid looking too unnatural, Nemo dissipated the dark shadows covering his face at this moment, revealing only his fair-skinned chin, but that was enough to make people see his age.
“What’s the matter, boy?” the man who opened the door asked impatiently.
“You’re a demon worshipper of the Abyssal Church, right?” Nemo asked in a polite tone, distorting his voice with a bit of magic. He had never liked the way of asking questions directly. Such questioning was a bit tough, so it was hard for him to control the words, thus he blurted everything out at that moment, “…sir?”
The man’s pupils shrank. His hand had moved very fast before Nemo’s voice had stopped. When his gesture finished…
Nothing happened.
The big demon in the room didn’t obey his orders. It ran into the bottom of the table as if it was fleeing for its life and began to shiver uncontrollably. The table shook together as the legs trembled against the floor.
“It seems you are.” Nemo retracted his gaze from the direction of the table a little apologetically and his speed of speech began to speed up uncontrollably. “I just want to ask a few questions and leave after asking.”
“I have nothing to say to people like you.” The man knew the situation wasn’t good. He bared his browned teeth and spit out a thick phlegm on the floor at Nemo’s feet. “Which false God are you the spokesperson for?”
“I really just want to ask a few questions.” Nemo stretched out a hand and the unique brilliance of Abyssal Magic lit up the whole room. It was dark at night, and the air in the nearby area was quiet and peaceful, but he became more restless for unknown reasons. “In a more polite way—”
The demon worshipper glanced at his own demon that was shaking more violently in horror. His gaze swept across the non-aggressive array, and finally stayed on the small half of Nemo’s face. He tried to find traces of obvious deformation, but he failed miserably— Then he realized a certain possibility.
“They… They dispatched a demon warlock, or…?” the tone of the demon worshipper instantly softened. “Which Bishop are you from…”
If he spoke more, he would make more mistake. Nemo was silent, not planning to make up nonsense. Although he knew that if he wanted to, he could take away all the information he wanted from this person within half a second— But no matter which method he used, that person’s brain would become a bloody mess afterwards.
He didn’t want to do that.
“Don’t worry about that. I’m in a hurry. Who summoned the Deadwood Jellyfish in Roadside Town?” Nemo clenched the black mist-entangled staff in his hand. His voice was a little dry. “Tell me everything you know.”
“Okay… Okay, dear sir.”
Nemo thought that things were going well. He only needed to go to the vicinity of Roadside Town to find enough evidence to confirm the safety of the town. Then he could tear open the space, throw the prisoner directly at the door of the Insular Court and take Oliver away in a dignified manner.
But he couldn’t feel at ease or even breathe a sigh of relief. In theory, everything was still under control, but there was a cold thorn in his heart.
Nemo adjusted his breathing rhythm for a while, raised his head again, and stared at the opponent’s mouth.
Hurry up. Faster. His intuition was screaming.
He must get Oliver back as soon as possible.
In the next second, a bright white light mercilessly split the peaceful night sky. Nemo turned abruptly and looked in its direction. No doubt, it was magic from the Laddism Church…
But the aura wasn’t anyone he knew.
If only this scene was an illusion.Oliver still looked away as he couldn't bear watching it any longer. The scene after the cage became more terrifying. There was no blood or pain, but cold numbness. Those sophisticated metal instruments and array weren't specially design for malice. Every detail was full of calm organization, and everything was orderly.There was no roar of pain and no look of resistance. Only a small cry subconsciously made by living things. The common sense in this castle seemed to have been redefined. It seemed that such treatment of humans was just a matter of course, and there was no need to make any ideological struggle.This should be deliberate. No matter what their intention were, they did succeed in destroying most of his positive emotions. Oliver began to stare at the ground. The gray and smooth stony ground was clearly illuminated by a pale light.He counted the gaps in the stone bricks and moved his legs to the most efficient way, trying to accumulate the only remaining physical strength his mind has left.The road full of torture was extremely long. He may had been walking for a hundred years before the incomplete guide in front of him stopped. Oliver, who was counting the cracks in the bricks almost bumped into the man's back.The incomplete humanoid object turned around, and the arm that was no thicker than a bone shook for a while. A metal tag was drawn from the loose clothes There was a shiny metal ring hanging at the end of the sign, half the size of a palm. Except for the long section of the thin chain between the ring and the sign, it was no different than those worn by the people in the cages just now.The man threw the metal tag at Oliver randomly. The ring at the end of the tag moved like a living animal and got into Oliver's collar through the gap in the armor. Then came the severe pain of his flesh being penetrated, accompanied by the feeling of warm blood flowing out of his skin. Just like those cages encountered, it should have also encircled his clavicle.The metal tag on the other end of the chain was still dangling in front of his armor causing a fine noise of metal hitting metal.Take a good look at the brand, the guide squeezed a broken voice out of his throat. It doesn't matter if you can't read.Then the stone wall slid away.Oliver was pushed in before he could see what was on the other side of the wall. He staggered a few steps under his feet but in the end, he didn't have the strength to maintain his balance and firmly fell to the ground, almost knocking off his skeleton helmet.Then he heard breathing.Despite his exhaustion, long-term combat training still left him with keen enough insight. Judging from the distance of the sound, this should be a very large room, accommodating at least fifty people or more. Their gaze came out of the dark corners and Oliver could feel those eyes wandering on him. He didn't choose to stand up immediately but clenched the hilt of his sword with his right hand and his muscle tightened.However, apart from the aggravated breathing sound, no other sound was added in the space. No one approached him. They were patiently observing, like insects hiding in dark crevices.Oliver finally stood up slowly and clenched the swaying card. Through the faint light in the room, he could see most of the room clearly.Like a tomb,'was his first thought.As narrow as the shelf used to hold dead bones, people laid in coffin-like cramped wooden frames. The shelf had about five layers of shelves, and the lower level was much emptier than the upper. Oliver raised his head slightly. There were also many people sitting against the wall, motionless, that he almost regarded them as stone carvings.There was no shortage of men, women, and children that were stone carvings, but at first glance it looked dominated by men in their prime. Except for less than ten people wearing standard thin cloth white robes, the rest of them have their own style of clothing, and the cold light of weapons leaked out from the darkness bit by bit from time to time. It seemed that they should be the same as him. He wasn't asked to change into other clothes, nor was anything taken away.They were staring at him together, their slowly turning eyeballs resembled those carved out of a dark stone and were quite lifeless. Oliver swore that he smelled the stench of ulceration and a peculiar foul smell of pus.Oliver took a careful breath. He walked around as quietly as possible, found a relatively empty corner, and stuffed his back to it. It was imperative to regain his strength, and then make plans.The beating heart that was like a pounding drum gradually stabilized. He could now hear the sour sucking sound of the live collar on his neck. Oliver tried to use the saved strength to cast a condensation spell, but the soft blue light didn't light up at all and was accompanied by a raging pain despite such a weak spell.This time Oliver suppressed the pain and didn't make a sound.His throat was parched, and his brain was screaming with thirst. The dry air in the room aggravated his pain and after a fierce battle, his thinking was becoming chaotic and slow due to the lack of water.How long has it been since he drank water? One day? Two?The instinctive anxiety of the body made him uncontrollably depressed.This won't work. Oliver licked the corners of his bitten mouth. In this terrible unknown environment, negative emotions were like a dangerous swamp. Once he stepped in, there would be no ending other than sinking. He must keep his spirts up, but not out of some kind of ideal optimism. He could only do this. It was his only choice.Even if all common sense was broken here, at least he still had emotion outside the influence of this hellhole. Oliver changed the sword to his left hand and removed the armor from his left forehand with his right.The transaction seal that Nemo had branded him had long since expired, and at this moment it almost had completely faded, leaving only a very pale white mark on his skin.The edge of the black armor left a lot of fine gaps because of the battle. Oliver carefully broke off a thin piece of metal and cut his skin along the white traces. He paddled through the dim light, moving carefully until the weird mark reappeared in blood.Then Oliver put his cracked lips against the wound and sucked the fresh blood. The thick blood made him nauseous, and Oliver knew that it would have no practical effect, but the blood flowing through his throat had a more or less a soothing effect. He was finally able to concentrate again and started to think.The metal sheet was so sharp that it didn't leave too bad a wound under his control. The blood soon stopped pouring out and left only a slightly swollen mark behind.After all this, Oliver closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths, and then clenched the slightly shaking metal tag with his blood-stained fingers.On the front of the card was a string of numbers written in the lingua franca; just 300,000. He didn't know if the dim light made him hallucinate as those strokes seemed to be trembling slightly. While looking at the long string of numbers, his fingers touched something uneven behind the metal sign.Oliver frowned and turned the card over. There were just a few words on the back of the card. Their meaning transcended the words themselves and went directly into his mindIf you win the specified battle, you can seize one hundred points from the enemy.Killing others can get you one hundred points, plus the value of the deceased.People who have lost all their value that are still alive will be transferred to the test area for processing. Please be advised.Oliver went silent for a long time. After a full half a minute, he released the metal tag, leaving only a few bloody fingerprints on it. He leaned his lips closer to the engraving again, but this time it wasn't for bloodHe kissed it.Then he raised his head and faced the projected eyes again.I'll get out alive, Nemo, he announced to himself. Get out here alive in a way that won't let you down.On the other side, at night in Kenyatta.Nemo stood still on top of his target building, then slipped back to the ground along the darkest corner, moving as lightly as someone's sleeping breath. He wanted to break through the fragile door directly, but the movement of his right hand stagnated for a moment in the night, and finally turned into a polite knock on the door.The man who came to open the door wasn't very tall. He looked about forty or fifty years old and was as thin as a malnourished vulture. There were obvious excessive bags under his eyes, and his eyes rolled up slightly, revealing parts of white as he stared at Nemo politely.In order to avoid looking too unnatural, Nemo dissipated the dark shadows covering his face at this moment, revealing only his fair-skinned chin, but that was enough to make people see his age.What's the matter, boy? the man who opened the door asked impatiently.You're a demon worshipper of the Abyssal Church, right? Nemo asked in a polite tone, distorting his voice with a bit of magic. He had never liked the way of asking questions directly. Such questioning was a bit tough, so it was hard for him to control the words, thus he blurted everything out at that moment, sir?The man's pupils shrank. His hand had moved very fast before Nemo's voice had stopped. When his gesture finishedNothing happened.The big demon in the room didn't obey his orders. It ran into the bottom of the table as if it was fleeing for its life and began to shiver uncontrollably. The table shook together as the legs trembled against the floor.It seems you are. Nemo retracted his gaze from the direction of the table a little apologetically and his speed of speech began to speed up uncontrollably. I just want to ask a few questions and leave after asking.I have nothing to say to people like you. The man knew the situation wasn't good. He bared his browned teeth and spit out a thick phlegm on the floor at Nemo's feet. Which false God are you the spokesperson for?I really just want to ask a few questions. Nemo stretched out a hand and the unique brilliance of Abyssal Magic lit up the whole room. It was dark at night, and the air in the nearby area was quiet and peaceful, but he became more restless for unknown reasons. In a more polite wayThe demon worshipper glanced at his own demon that was shaking more violently in horror. His gaze swept across the non-aggressive array, and finally stayed on the small half of Nemo's face. He tried to find traces of obvious deformation, but he failed miserably Then he realized a certain possibility.They They dispatched a demon warlock, or? the tone of the demon worshipper instantly softened. Which Bishop are you fromIf he spoke more, he would make more mistake. Nemo was silent, not planning to make up nonsense. Although he knew that if he wanted to, he could take away all the information he wanted from this person within half a second But no matter which method he used, that person's brain would become a bloody mess afterwards.He didn't want to do that.Don't worry about that. I'm in a hurry. Who summoned the Deadwood Jellyfish in Roadside Town? Nemo clenched the black mist-entangled staff in his hand. His voice was a little dry. Tell me everything you know.Okay Okay, dear sir.Nemo thought that things were going well. He only needed to go to the vicinity of Roadside Town to find enough evidence to confirm the safety of the town. Then he could tear open the space, throw the prisoner directly at the door of the Insular Court and take Oliver away in a dignified manner.But he couldn't feel at ease or even breathe a sigh of relief. In theory, everything was still under control, but there was a cold thorn in his heart.Nemo adjusted his breathing rhythm for a while, raised his head again, and stared at the opponent's mouth.Hurry up. Faster.His intuition was screaming.He must get Oliver back as soon as possible.In the next second, a bright white light mercilessly split the peaceful night sky. Nemo turned abruptly and looked in its direction. No doubt, it was magic from the Laddism ChurchBut the aura wasn't anyone he knew.
