Chapter 329: Sorry, Please Go Die (Part 1)

  Every day, it wasn't just swordsmen delivering food and drink who entered the cell; even Lancelot himself also came to inspect it twice a day, checking the special shackles binding Ethan's hands and feet, as well as any and all abnormalities that occurred in the cell.

  Ethan had to admire Lancelot. As a knight with the highest status on the continent, almost the spokesperson of justice, he was surprisingly familiar with all the petty tricks of a thief, and all of Ethan's attempted moves were easily seen through by him. The food delivered every day was just a bowl of thin porridge, which a swordsman would hold to Ethan's lips for him to drink in one go. After three days, Ethan no longer had any strength left.

  However, it wasn't until the thirteenth day that Ethan truly understood he could not escape by his own power.

  In these thirteen days, he had already tried every method. The last time, he even forced himself to secretly shatter his own bones to slowly slip out of the chains. For his remaining meager strength, this was undoubtedly a long and painful task, and he couldn't let anyone notice. It took him half a day to fracture a small portion of his ribs without injuring his internal organs and major arteries, and he also had to struggle to maintain an unblemished exterior.

  But Lancelot walked in, took one look at him, and said lightly, "I used that method when I was fifteen. You're covered in cold sweat now; you can't fool anyone."

  "Fifteen..." Ethan gave a bitter smile. He had been keeping his head down, pretending to be unconscious, precisely because he didn't want anyone to notice his cold sweat. "So you're really stronger than me. I can endure the pain, but I can't stop the sweat."

  "I couldn't stop it either. But at the time, a small patch of my skin had been flayed off, and I was covered in fresh blood, so nobody noticed."

  Lancelot came forward and slowly reset Ethan's bones, using healing magic. "Let me tell you. This is not a good way. Even if you could get out, it would be impossible to fully recover your injuries and strength. What would follow would be nothing more than allowing yourself to be captured again."

  "Can I ask how you escaped back then?"

  "In the end, I escaped because a comrade came to save me, but he died..."

  "Are you saying I can only wait for a comrade to save me?" Ethan's eye twitched.

  Lancelot caught this expression, shook his head, and said lightly, "Even if you have comrades, you absolutely cannot escape. This is The Radiant Citadel. His Majesty Magnus's consciousness, with the aid of the Ring of Kings, can cover the entire castle. No matter how skilled an expert is, it's impossible for them to sneak in. A direct assault would just be sending oneself to their death. Even a Necromancer would be no match for the entire The Radiant Citadel. In fact, His Majesty Magnus is probably hoping someone really does come to save you. That would be a good opportunity to eliminate those dangerous individuals."

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  Ethan didn't answer. This was exactly what he was most worried about. If they knew he was captured, would someone really come to save him? Sandro? Aunt El? But unfortunately, no matter who it was, they would face the entire The Radiant Citadel. He had seen with his own eyes the power that ring unleashed in the Pope's hands.

  That was definitely not a power that a single person could fight against.

  "Don't be so dejected. Your death can save the lives of tens of thousands of warriors; it is very valuable."

  Ethan sneered, "So according to you, I should be happy? Unfortunately, I don't have such noble sentiments, nor that great sense of justice you people have. If you were the one tied up here, I'm sure you would be very happy."

  "No, as long as one is human, no one is willing to die, no matter how noble the reason; it's all the same. It's instinct. However, a person must have something higher than instinct. Therefore, one must make sacrifices."

  "Sorry, I'm really not that noble."

  "Then you might as well try to think as I said, that your death can indeed allow many others to continue living, and it might make you feel a little better. Sometimes, nobility is a good painkiller." Lancelot smiled faintly, a very deep smile.

  "Thanks for the concern. I don't have that habit, but I still have to thank you. I know you've made things much easier for me. If it weren't for you, I would now just be a human stick without hands or feet."

  "I just promised Talise a few small things." Lancelot took a deep look at Ethan and sighed softly. "I know you're not a bad person, but there's nothing to be done. I don't have any incredibly noble sentiments either. It's just that in my view, the lives of tens of thousands of warriors are much more important than yours."

  "So, sorry, please go and die. Rest assured, it won't be much longer. His Majesty says the power of the Ring of Kings is almost restored. We may not have many more chances to meet after this."

  Lancelot walked out of the cell. The steel door, as thick as a city gate, closed with a loud bang. The cell was once again plunged into darkness.

  "Damn it... Am I really going to die? I don't want to die... Granny, don't come here..." In the darkness, the sound of Ethan talking to himself echoed lonely.

  Oufu. Sedros was now at his desk, looking at several reports, his brows furrowed.

  Celeste had not taken any action against Oufu. Instead, they had concentrated all their forces in the southern desert, conquering in one fell swoop the nomadic tribes that had long occupied the area. This should have been good news for Oufu, but Sedros couldn't feel happy.

  What Oufu needed most now was time, and Celeste's actions were not just giving Oufu time; they were practically letting it develop as it pleased. Progress on the Sanderfirth Mountains front was going smoothly, the attitude of the Tower of Fangs was now clear, and war preparations were becoming more and more sufficient. As time passed, Oufu grew stronger almost every single day.

  From any perspective, it seemed impossible for Magnus to do such a foolish thing. The only possibility was that he no longer cared how Oufu developed. He already held a trump card in his hand sufficient to turn the entire situation around.

  Sedros wasn't entirely sure what kind of trump card this was. Since the earth-shattering battle between the Archangel and the phoenix in The Radiant Citadel, Sedros had lost almost all the spies he had placed in the religious nations. Back then, the victors were not just the Pope and that conjured Archangel, but also the entire church's gathering and consolidation of the people's hearts. As long as one wasn't extremely and viciously evil, anyone with even a sliver of faith in their heart was awed by that real image of an angel. The originally ethereal and illusory concept suddenly became a living, breathing entity. No one dared to doubt whether there really was a god in this world anymore.

  With great effort, Sedros managed to collect some vague information. With a little thought, using his reasoning ability, he generally understood what had happened.

  "Does that kid's capture have anything to do with Magnus's current strange actions?" Sedros frowned, tapping on his desk and talking to himself. "Should I go and save him... At least I have to find a way to ask him clearly..."