The shackles were forged from a special alloy of fine steel, each link thick as a finger and covered with a multitude of magical symbols—some to suppress magic, some to enhance the shackles' strength and resilience, and others to weaken the bound individual. These devices looked less like restraints for a person and more suited for restraining a magical elephant.
Now, however, Asa found himself trapped in three pairs of such shackles, overlapping and entwined around him like a bizarre suit of armor.
But this wasn't a dark, terrifying dungeon; it was the duke's study. Asa was not bloodied and battered on the floor, but rather seated upright in a chair, albeit looking quite fatigued. Anyone in his position would be hard-pressed to maintain their composure.
Across the desk, Duke Murak smiled at Asa, saying, "These three pairs of shackles were actually prepared for you by High Priest Kusbert. They were specially made by the Magic Academy long ago to restrain a Minotaur priest. I had never intended to capture you alive, but you didn't disappoint me. Haha."
"Didn't disappoint you? Were you afraid I wouldn't come?" Asa looked coldly at the duke's smiling face and replied weakly.
"No. I believed you would come. This was all part of my plan. I had originally intended to kill you on the spot, but I changed my mind at the last minute, hoping to capture you alive instead. You didn't disappoint me; you're still alive," the duke replied, his voice dripping with amusement.
"Capture me for what? I thought you would have me mutilated—hands and feet cut off, tongue severed, eyes gouged out," Asa said, his eyes half-closed, his tone icy.
"Well said. Logically, I should have dealt with you in that manner. Hahaha." The duke laughed, his mirth genuine as if he had just heard a delightful joke. Looking at Asa, who was now completely at his mercy and had no room for struggle, the duke sighed with a hint of nostalgia. "Perhaps, from a certain perspective, enemies are the best friends. They not only bring you the thrill of battle and the joy of victory but, due to their clear stances, allow for honest conversations without reservation. You can express everything directly, even hostility—it's quite liberating."
"You seem rather pleased," Asa said coldly.
"Wrong," the duke waved a dismissive hand, his smile unyielding. "It's not just a little pleased; I'm extremely happy. I can barely remember the last time I felt this way. Because it seems I've never had to put in so much effort or take so long to deal with a single person. And yet, I still triumphed." He took a moment to savor the expression of defeat on Asa's face, his gaze tinged with something akin to reluctance. "Alas, once you're dead, where will I find such a worthy opponent again? Where will I find someone with whom I can converse so freely?"
Footsteps approached. The duke frowned, having already ordered everyone else in the manor to stay clear of the study. He wanted to interrogate the prisoner in secret, and his dialogue with Asa was not meant for others' ears.
The study room door swung open, and Rodhart entered, bowing to the duke. "Apologies, Your Grace. Captain Roland and an old priest are at the manor gate. They say they wish to take the wanted criminal for a personal interrogation with His Majesty and the high priests."
"Captain Roland? Hmph, he didn't send anyone when I needed him; now he's asking for someone," the duke scowled, considering briefly before waving his hand lightly. "Temporarily hold them up." He did not specify how to delay them, trusting that Rodhart would know what to do.
"Yes, sir." Rodhart turned to leave, never casting a glance at Asa.
"He's a very intelligent and capable young man. The key is that he knows how to choose wisely in every situation," the duke remarked, turning his attention back to Asa. "But your choices often seem rather poor."
"Because I'm not a clever person," Asa replied flatly. "Even if I'm not smart, I know this doesn't seem like a suitable place for interrogation. You brought me here not just to express your delight, did you?"
"Haha. Right," the duke smiled. "I've been so courteous to you, allowing you to sit here unharmed because I want to propose a deal."
"A deal? You're not going to let me go?" Asa's gaze and tone remained steady, devoid of any emotion. "Though I'm not particularly clever, I know you're not about to let me go."
"Correct." The duke nodded, still wearing a friendly smile. "You understand that, given how things have turned out, you must die."
"Then what can you offer someone who knows he's about to die? If I'm losing my life, what could I possibly care about?"
"No, I know there's something you care about. Even if you value your life so little, you still care about one person—my daughter. Ha ha. Were you not risking everything to come here for her?" The duke's smile bore an air of mock compassion. "I'll use her life as a bargaining chip. As long as you agree, I won't harm her. Rest assured, she's safe and even better off than you."
Asa didn't answer, but his eyes flickered with emotion. After a long pause, he spoke in a strange tone, "You'd use your daughter's life to coerce a dying man into agreeing to your terms? Others would think you're mad."
"What others say doesn't matter. What's important is that I know you will agree," the duke replied casually.
"What do you want me to do?" Asa sighed.
The duke's eyes narrowed as he spoke slowly, word by word: "I want you to admit that Theodorus is colluding with the Necromancer Guild, instructing you to assassinate Bishop Ronis. As long as you confess this to both the King and the Church, I swear I won't harm Elaine, and she will live her life as before."
"Swear?" Asa forced a smile. "I'd regard such oaths as worthless; do you really care about that?"
The duke sighed, a paternal note creeping into his voice. "After all, Elaine is my daughter, and she's quite capable. Do you think I want to kill her? But she knows that I'm the one who killed Bishop Ronis, and she stands with you, also a disciple of Theodorus. I fear she may join forces with him to exonerate you, which is why I must plan to kill her to silence her. If you could identify Theodorus as the true mastermind behind this, once you're dead, my worries would vanish, and I would no longer need to trouble her. The fact that you came here riding a wivern serves as the greatest evidence of Theodorus's collusion with the Necromancer Guild. I can foresee that Theodorus will claim you stole it yourself, but even so, it's enough. I have my methods to escalate the situation." Seemingly lost in pleasant thoughts of the future, the duke smiled broadly. Today, he was exceptionally jubilant.
Asa sighed. "So, you're not just happy about capturing me; you're also delighted at the prospect of using me to deal with Theodorus directly."
"Correct," the duke nodded. "Ha ha, I can almost envision the Church and Empire joining forces against Orford. I will lead the troops myself. Truly, thank you for bringing that wivern today; it reminded me of its potential on the battlefield. Before I attack, I must persuade the military ministers and the King to procure some griffins first. Haha."
Asa remained unfazed, saying, "Since you know I've been to Orford and contacted Theodorus, aren't you afraid we've already agreed on a way to deal with you?"
"A way?" The duke smiled. "Feel free to plot whatever you wish. The charge of murdering the bishop is already established, and Theodorus wouldn't dare send orc troops to blatantly assist you. He has to leave himself a way out. Perhaps if you stayed in Orford with Theodorus, I might have some cause for concern. But I know you'll definitely return. Haha, and here you are, already in my grasp."
Asa sighed and nodded. "You've thought this through well. I did request Theodorus for help, but he refused. His concerns align with your own. And I... I indeed had to come back. You really know how to read people."
"Reading people is the most fundamental and vital aspect of setting traps and schemes," the duke replied, his smile widening as if he were a master chef explaining his signature dish. He aimed to make Asa savor every nuance and meaning of his brilliant creation. "Once you understand what kind of person someone is and how they will react in certain situations, you can anticipate every step and design the larger picture. Even if the other party realizes your intent, they'll still walk into your trap step by step."
"Just like I did. You knew I would return, didn't you?" Asa said, his head lowered as if resigned.
"Yes. Hahaha," the duke chuckled happily.
"Seeing you so pleased right now," Asa suddenly said softly, "but I haven't agreed to frame Theodorus yet."
"Yet I believe you will," the duke's expression seemed to proclaim, 'the whole world is in my hands.' "Just as I believe you would surely return."
Asa still appeared weak and defeated, shaking his head with a low, despondent voice, "No. I will not agree."
The duke looked stunned. "What?"
"No, I will not agree." Asa's voice grew louder. "Because I don't need to agree." With that, he suddenly stood up from the chair, the shackles making a series of clattering sounds as they fell to the floor.
The duke's expression froze. He was certain those shackles were securely fastened and could hold someone with strength far exceeding that of a human, like a Minotaur.
"You've been so confident. It seems you trust those shackles designed for cattle. Indeed, I admit I am no bull, and I can easily break free," Asa said, raising his hand to reveal a wooden splinter pinched between his fingers. "But I happen to know a thing or two about traps and mechanisms, and you were kind enough to let me sit rather than lie on the ground. It turns out those shackles meant for cattle aren't that difficult to unlock."
The duke was surprised but did not panic. He didn't even rise from his seat, his face darkening as he spoke in a grave tone. "There may be no one around the study room, but outside, the palace guards are everywhere. I advise you not to believe that mere luck will allow you to turn the tables. And don't waste the opportunity I've given you."
Yet Asa seemed to show no sign of treasuring that opportunity. The previously despondent look in his eyes sharpened, becoming bright and fierce, matching his voice. "I never considered you an enemy. Our paths were fundamentally different, so even though you've tried to deal with me several times, I never found you particularly despicable, nor did I want to confront you. I was merely caught in your way against my will. But then I realized I was wrong. You would even kill Bishop Ronis, and Sandru... not even Elaine is spared..." Asa's voice and expression twisted with emotion. "Even if I could save Elaine once, as long as you exist, neither she nor anyone else will ever be at peace." His voice twisted by fury, Asa growled lowly, "So I will kill you." His eyes were bloodshot, and as he spoke, his fangs were bared, exuding a feral intensity.
"I'm truly surprised and disappointed. You've given up the chance I offered you," the duke's expression turned entirely cold. He slowly stood up, his hand moving to his sword at his waist, and shouted fiercely, "Someone, come! The prisoner has broken free and is attempting to escape!" The duke's face was filled with murderous intent and calm, but his shout managed to convey an air of urgency.
After the shout, the duke continued to speak in a low tone to Asa. "Once again, I must say you've disappointed me. I only knew you were not clever, but I didn't expect you to be this foolish. Hmph, do you think this is one of those vulgar tales popular in taverns? You believe you can orchestrate a complete reversal of fate just by a stroke of luck?"
Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, but they didn't have the chaotic noise typical of palace guards. Instead, it was the sound of one person's footsteps—rapid, large strides approaching. In a matter of blinks, the figure was nearly at the study room's door. Though hurried, the movements were precise and followed a peculiar rhythm, the sound coming from someone who had integrated martial skills into every part of their being.
Suddenly, Asa turned and kicked the study door open. With a thunderous crash, the two doors flew into the corridor, directly colliding with the rushing figure.
The figure paused momentarily, and a faint white line flickered in the air for an instant, and the two aggressive doors instantly disintegrated into splintered pieces without a sound.
As the wooden shards fell, the newcomer steadied himself, sword drawn. With gray hair and a scholarly demeanor, he possessed eyes as sharp and keen as a blade. He was Captain Roland, who had just been dragged by Rodhart to the duke's manor entrance. He was the first to rush in after hearing the duke's shout.
"Captain Roland, this wanted criminal is trying to kill me!" the duke unsheathed his sword, having resolved not to let this young man live any longer.
However, Asa turned to face the duke, entirely ignoring the empire's foremost swordsman behind him. It seemed that after shattering the doors, Captain Roland fell silent, as if he had suddenly vanished.
The duke, surprised, tilted his head and caught sight of what lay behind Asa. In the corridor outside the study, Captain Roland was still there. Yet, he had lowered his head, seemingly about to step forward, his hand resting on the sword's hilt. But he remained frozen in that position, as if he had become a statue.
The duke suddenly sensed a strange aura. This wasn't a tangible scent but a pure sensation akin to the feeling one has when gazing at a great beast. Although no beast was visible, the duke knew for certain that this ominous feeling emanated from just beyond the corner of the corridor behind Captain Roland.
No one could see what was hidden there, nor could anyone hear any sound. But every person, even animals, could sense the strangeness and danger of that place.
The eerie, perilous sensation intensified. The duke felt as if he were standing before a tsunami about to crash upon him.
Captain Roland's body began to bend slowly. His head dipped lower, almost as if he were closing his eyes, gripping his sword tighter. If a tempest was brewing behind him, he and his sword stood like a mountain, solid yet ready to erupt with overwhelming force.
A strange cracking sound echoed, and behind Captain Roland, a shelf in the corridor shattered, along with a porcelain vase atop it. It crumbled inward, as if squeezed by invisible hands, with the fragments collapsing into a small pile without scattering.
Captain Roland remained still, and the figure exuding immense pressure around the corner did not move either. No sound escaped, as if the very air had solidified into a mass. Yet, within that eerie silence, a force brewed that, once unleashed, could shatter the entire duke's manor like a vase struck by a heavy blow.
The duke was already sweating profusely. His breathing was becoming increasingly difficult.
"Things you encounter by luck can be complemented by the unexpected," Asa's voice suddenly broke the oppressive atmosphere. "In fact, the shackles on me were meant to be undone by him. But it seems he knows I have a way of escape and hasn't made a move, so I have no choice but to free myself."
The duke's hand, gripping the sword, trembled with visible veins bulging at his temple. His voice was drier than ever. "Do you really have a plan?"
"You'll know I've been to Orford when you see the wivern. So even if I fail to save someone, you wouldn't want me dead. According to your style, you would want to use me until the last moment, at least to interrogate me. And while saying this, you would never allow anyone else to be present; it would have to be a one-on-one situation. All of this constitutes a plan—specifically designed against you," Asa tightened his fists, the cracking of his knuckles ringing out starkly in the strange silence. "You are correct; understanding what kind of person someone is and how they will react in certain situations is indeed the most critical aspect of setting traps."
The duke's eyes twitched. "You're betting on this. I'm surprised Theodorus would risk such a plan."
"Right. Theodorus wouldn't gamble with me, but others will. One helps me strategize, another agrees to assist. Of course, they have conditions I must accept. But whatever their demands, they're certainly better than yours," Asa replied, gradually bending down like Captain Roland, his body glowing with a pale white light.
"Too bad you're all going to lose," the duke said, slowly shifting his thin sword to point at Asa. His wrist and body remained still, but the sword tip trembled, like a snake's flicking tongue. "You two—there's nothing I can say. But now it's just you. And outside, there are thousands of soldiers."
"Right now, we still don't know who has lost," Asa coldly replied, his eyes shining sharper than the duke's sword. The white light surrounding him concentrated around his fists.
The duke's sword trembled even more, resembling a snake ready to strike.
Suddenly, a voice sighed, "If we still don't know who has lost, it must be because his head is full of nonsense."
The wall of the study room crumbled silently, revealing an old priest and Rodhart, who appeared from the room behind it. Rodhart stepped in with some effort, his eyes focused on the corridor. The pressure building there was intensifying, and the old priest glanced at the corridor, shaking his head with a sigh. "The youth of today are good at everything but tend to block the way." He was indeed the priest Rodhart mentioned, who had been waiting at the door with Captain Roland. It was evident that they couldn't come through the corridor and had instead circled around to enter through the wall. In this tense atmosphere, no one had noticed their arrival.
The duke smiled. Though he found it odd that there was no commotion from the palace guards, the arrival of these two was sufficient. He recognized the old priest; he had been active during the execution, healing soldiers poisoned by the black rain better than anyone else. His magical skills were undoubtedly impressive. Now, combined with Rodhart, victory seemed assured. The duke said sternly, "You've come at the right time. Help me kill him."
As soon as the duke finished speaking, the storm of energy in the corridor surged dramatically. The pile of shattered vases continued to break, producing a sound like frying beans. Even the plaster on the walls began to flake off.
Captain Roland remained unmoving; his sword stayed sheathed, but a strange humming sound began to resonate from the sheath, spreading throughout the duke's manor. Rodhart's gaze did not leave the corridor for a moment, even as the duke's forehead broke out in a cold sweat.
The old priest who had entered through the broken wall ignored the duke entirely and weakly shouted toward the corridor, "You young people are way too energetic. We're all on the same side here. You can fight and kill each other later. Let's get things settled first."
Upon hearing this, the trembling of the duke's fine sword immediately ceased. The once-animated blade that seemed ready to strike now resembled a clothesline. The duke's slender eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at the old priest. He couldn't comprehend why the priest would say such a thing—he was utterly taken aback.
Asa's expression mirrored the duke's astonishment; his mouth hung open wide enough to fit his fist, and all his battle Qi vanished in an instant. His surprise surpassed even that of the duke.