Chapter 284: Never Yield
The two stared at each other for a while. Finally, Witte used the Water Ball Spell to barely clean the sewage off their bodies. Smelling the stench on himself, Turtledove said:
“This is really too smelly. We can’t go on like this; it’s impossible for others not to notice this stench.”
Eventually, they climbed out of the sewer and onto the surface. They pried open the door of a Citizen’s home, knocked the inhabitants unconscious, and quickly washed up. About ten minutes later, smelling the clean scent on his body, Turtledove nodded with satisfaction.
“This family will remain unconscious for at least a whole day. We can’t barge into the Punishment Office. Let’s lie low first and wait for an opportunity.”
Just as they were speaking, a patrol squad of Punishers walked near the area.
Time rewinds three hours. After confirming the truth of the matter, Ace decided to capture Goll’s uncle, Gosa, first.
“According to Goll’s confession, Gosa returns to his residence every day. I will personally capture him to confirm the situation of Misha’s family.”
Ace didn’t delay. The disappearance of Goll and the others shouldn’t have been discovered yet. Tonight was a moonless night, the best time for action.
Ace had Warren and the others continue interrogating Goll, Hel, and the third youth, while he controlled the flock of Shadow Ravens, stepping on shadows to quickly arrive at Gosa’s home.
Inside Gosa’s bedroom, the faint sound of a flock of crows could be heard. Pitch-black shadows of crows gathered, gradually forming a pitch-black two-dimensional humanoid figure. It stared at Gosa, who was in a deep sleep, and revealed a hollow and terrifying smile.
Dozens of shadow tendrils extended from behind the pitch-black humanoid figure, gently stroking Gosa. Through the shadow tendrils, the True-Illusion Dream gradually merged with Gosa’s dream.
In the dreamland, the weather was fine and the air clear. On a green grassland, Gosa was drinking fine wine on a high platform, accompanied by several voluptuous beauties. Amidst the feasting and revelry, the sky suddenly turned dark, and a thunderstorm raged.
Gosa, drenched by the downpour, flew into a rage. Just as he was about to curse, the voluptuous beauties beside him suddenly turned pitch-black, instantly transforming into hundreds of shadow tendrils. They wrapped around him tightly and dragged him into the shadows in an instant.
In reality, inside Gosa’s bedroom, his soul was pulled by Ace using shadow tendrils. Accompanied by the Dream Mist created by the True-Illusion Dream, he was slowly dragged into the True-Illusion Dream.
In a pitch-black torture chamber, Gosa’s soul was tied to a cross within the dream and whipped viciously.
This was the latest application of the True-Illusion Dream: dragging someone into a dream. If the strength difference between the target and Ace was too great, even the soul would be pulled into the dream.
Injuries received in the dream would be reflected in reality, halved.
Simply put, a light injury in the dream meant bruising in reality; a heavy injury in the dream meant a light injury in reality; a near-death state in the dream meant a heavy injury in reality; and death in the dream could potentially lead to a near-death state in reality.
Entering the dream, the combat and scenery were not entirely controlled by Ace, but depended on the mental strength, will, and changes in the dreamscape of both parties. However, this was Ace’s home ground. Unless the opponent was significantly stronger than him, it was difficult to defeat him in the dream; at most, they could break free from it.
Gosa in the dream was whipped until he was on the verge of death. His mental strength was too low, and he lacked the powerful will of a Knight or Virtue Runes to insulate him from the dream’s influence. He had no power to resist in the dream.
As Gosa slowly broke down, his memories turned into dream light orbs one by one. Ace flipped through them one by one, not only clarifying the cause and effect but also learning about the current situation.
“It’s actually…”
The voice gradually faded. Ace turned into the shadow of a flock of crows and hid in the shadows, leaving only Gosa looking around in extreme terror, black blood flowing from his seven orifices.
The black blood seemed to follow a fixed trajectory, gradually condensing into a group of words.
Shortly after, a violent explosion occurred at the Punishment Office. Crows cawed, Divine Descendants wailed, and the Great Hero Karim chased out directly, roaring: “It’s the Dark Raven Devil! Unforgivable!”
Looking at the nearly hundred fleeing Shadow Ravens, Karim was furious. Flustered and exasperated, he mobilized all Punishers to hunt down the “Dark Raven Devil.”
More than half of the Punishment Office had collapsed. The scattered corpses were manipulated by shadows to form a sentence. Karim became even more furious upon seeing this sentence.
“The Torch-Stealer Alliance Will Never Yield!”
Witte and Mr. Turtledove hid in a nearby attic. Looking down through the window, they found that the Punishers had begun to break into houses one by one, searching for Desecrators everywhere. They were already surrounded.
Mr. Turtledove gritted his teeth, spat, and said:
“I’m really screwed because of you. They say natural Mental Overdrive users like you have the most hope of becoming Formal Wizards. Remember to check the future of the magic path for me.”
As soon as he finished speaking, the planar Spell Model in Mr. Turtledove’s hand flickered and took shape. He leaped out of the window violently. His gray cloth robe spread out flat, stopping steadily in the air—it was actually a Magic Flying Carpet.
Standing on the flying carpet, stripped to the waist, he used a Mana Hand to grab an oilcloth packet from the carpet and threw it onto the Spell Model. In an instant, a fan-shaped torrent of scorching fire poured out from the Spell Model he held high.
The group of Punishers dodged and resisted somewhat wretchedly. By the time they realized the torrent of fire had disappeared, Turtledove had already flown far away on the somewhat tattered Magic Flying Carpet.
“Chase him! Don’t let the Desecrator escape!”
Witte watched as all the nearby Punishers went to chase Turtledove, tears streaming down his face silently.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Turtledove. I might not be able to see the future of magic.”
His eyes were sorrowful but firm. He wanted to go to the ruins of the Punishment Office to take a look. Maybe Misha was still alive.
Witte didn’t hesitate. He waited quietly for the Punishers to leave, used the Transformation Spell to turn into a gray cat, and ran into the ruins of the Punishment Office.
As soon as he entered the ruins, Witte was stunned. Directly south of the Punishment Office was a small square with dozens of tall wooden stakes erected on it.
As an Intermediate Wizard Apprentice, Witte had excellent eyesight. He clearly saw nearly ten people tied to the stakes, including Misha and her parents.
The gray cat Witte ran over in a panic, stumbled, and rolled into the middle of the wooden stakes. He found that the people tied here had long ceased breathing. He wailed silently, jumped onto Misha’s shoulder, and licked the wounds on Misha’s face.
It was useless. Misha, covered in cuts and bruises, had died long ago. Ace was furious precisely because of this. Using a Magic Glycerin Tube as a casting material, he blew up more than half of the Punishment Office from a long distance, leaving behind the name and mark of the Torch-Stealers.
Just then, Witte heard Misha’s murmuring voice.
“Witte, Witte, live on…”
The gray cat responded anxiously, but Misha made no more sound. He listened carefully and realized the voice didn’t come from Misha, but from the small conch on her chest.
A faint Mana reaction lingered on the small conch. Witte felt the rhythm on the conch, which was somewhat similar to Misha’s soul frequency.
In a trance, Witte seemed to see Misha struggling to endure the pain. She was afraid, she was missing him. Various emotions lingered, and the conch became her only sustenance.
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