At this point, Ned knew he was done. There was no escaping from this. The Golden—said to have been eradicated—were a shadow of their former selves, and yet the few who remained were rumored to be monstrously powerful. And this man... if he truly was one of their core leaders, then the situation was far worse than he could have ever imagined.
The mere possibility of a Golden operative so close to the capital city of Nexus was unthinkable. If this information leaked, the world would shatter under the weight of its implications. War would be inevitable. Ned swallowed hard as he pieced the truth together, his body trembling. This wasn't just a fight for survival; it was an encounter that could change history. Yet all that mattered to him now was survival, however fleeting it might be.
I won't make it out of here alive, he thought grimly. But I'll live as long as I can.
The old man broke the silence, his voice as smooth as silk but carrying an undercurrent of menace. "Hmmm, so you're really just Level 8," he said, his eyes narrowing. "I thought you might have been using a level-hiding device to ambush me. Seems I worried for nothing. Well, what do we know? It's been so long since I've seen another human that my senses have probably dulled."
The old man chuckled softly, his laugh echoing eerily in the cavern. "Anyway, shall we introduce ourselves? It's only polite."
Ned was baffled. The man's demeanor was oddly respectful, almost conversational. A flicker of hope kindled in his chest. Could there be a way out of this? Desperation and instinct forced him to respond.
"Respected sir, I am Ned—Ned Forester," he stammered. "I'm just a regular adventurer. I completed my first awakening only a few days ago, so I've been training in the wilderness to prepare for my final evaluation."
The words tumbled out before he could stop himself. He winced, realizing he'd said too much. The old man studied him carefully, his expression inscrutable. Then, with a casual gesture, he dragged a chair forward and motioned for Ned to sit. Reluctantly, Ned obeyed.
The man eased into a chair of his own and sighed. "I'm Iver Bacardi," he said, his tone light, almost friendly. "A simple scientist exploring the world."
He reached for a set of glasses on a nearby table and began mixing liquids from various vials. The concoction fizzed ominously as he poured it into the glasses. He held one out toward Ned.
"Alcohol? Are you old enough?"
"I'm 19," Ned replied quickly, shaking his head. "But no, thank you. I don't drink."
Iver raised an eyebrow and smirked. "You should try it. I was a renowned bartender once, you know. Bill Gates was one of my regulars."
Ned blinked, unsure how to respond. He knew the name well—Bill Gates, the Tech God, the man who awakened the Java Talent and revolutionized mana-machines after the Cataclysm. That had been centuries ago. Ned's stomach twisted as the realization sank in. This man wasn't just old; he was ancient.
Iver sighed deeply, the jovial glint in his eyes dimming. "Ah, well. Enough of that. Let's get down to business, shall we? See, boy, I'm not here to harm you out of malice. But I can't let you leave. You understand, don't you?" His voice turned cold, his words sharp as a blade. "I'm going to kill you. That's a certainty."
Ned's blood ran cold. His hands gripped the edge of his chair as he tried to think, to reason, to stall. Iver's calm demeanor only heightened his terror.
"You've been a good conversationalist, though," Iver continued. "So, I'll give you a choice. How do you want to die? Torn apart by my Level 100 wolves? Or devoured by my Level 150 wolves?"
The words hit Ned like a hammer. He was out of options, out of hope. Yet some stubborn part of him refused to give up. He needed to buy time, to think of something—anything—that could keep him alive.
"I know who you are," he said, forcing the words out despite the fear constricting his throat. "You're part of the Golden, aren't you?"
Iver's eyes narrowed, and for the first time, a flicker of genuine anger crossed his face. "Hmm, royalty," he muttered. "I suppose my tattoo gave it away. Only those with royal connections would know that insignia. Yes, boy, I'm part of the Golden. What of it?"
"Please, don't kill me," Ned pleaded. "I can be useful. I know information about the Alliance—the heads, the region leaders, their structure. I could be a spy for you. I'll do anything to live."
Iver scoffed, his lips curling into a sneer. "The Golden doesn't need information, boy. Do you think we're fools who don't know the workings of the Alliance? Spies? We have plenty. You wouldn't last a day in our ranks."
Desperation clawed at Ned's mind. "You must need a test subject," he blurted out. "I don't see any humans here. I can be useful to your experiments. I'll do whatever it takes. Please—just let me live."
Iver's face darkened, his expression turning venomous. He slammed his glass against the table, shattering it. In an instant, he grabbed Ned by the collar and hauled him to his feet, their faces inches apart.
"What do you take me for?" Iver hissed, his voice trembling with fury. "An animal? I made that mistake once—only once—and I've regretted it every day since. Do you see what it brought us to? The Golden, fallen. The world under the heel of bureaucratic fools. My friends, dead. My family, buried."
His grip tightened, and Ned gasped for air, his vision blurring. Iver's eyes glistened with unshed tears, a mixture of rage and sorrow that cut deeper than any blade.
"All my power was stripped from me," Iver continued, his voice breaking. "And now I'm here, hiding in a Level 15 dungeon, reduced to this! And you, a child, dare to question me?" He threw Ned to the ground with a force that rattled the cavern walls.
Ned coughed, struggling to breathe as he lay sprawled on the cold stone floor. Iver straightened, his composure returning. With a snap of his fingers, the cages lining the walls burst open. The wolves emerged, their glowing eyes fixated on Ned. Their combined aura pressed down on him like a tidal wave, suffocating and relentless.
"Any last words?" Iver asked, his tone devoid of emotion.
Ned coughed up blood, his body trembling as he tried to rise. His watch glinted faintly in the dim light, but it remained silent. No hum, no glow—no miracle. Despair threatened to consume him, but he forced himself to his feet, his legs shaking. He raised a trembling fist and pointed it at Iver.
"By the law of the All-Seeing Eye," Ned rasped, his voice defiant despite the odds. "Yield—or perish."
Iver scoffed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "A noble way to go out. It's been a pleasure talking to you, boy. Now, please die."
The wolves surged forward as one, a wall of death bearing down on him. Ned closed his eyes for a brief moment, steeling himself. Then, he whispered three words.
"Reenact: Moonlight Howl."