Chapter 135 Prison Cell

The Inquisition, located north of White Tower Town, was formerly a prison. It was an ancient building, massive and gloomy, like a silent, bloodthirsty beast lurking in the darkness. Atop its towering walls were several long-unused artillery batteries—a section controlled by the city's sheriff.

Nova was pushed along the dark, damp, and cold prison corridor, heading towards the only empty solitary cell deep inside. Along the way, he saw the iron cells on either side filled with faces numb with fear. Moans, screams, and pleas were heard everywhere. The stinking hot air, mixed with the stench of fresh blood and decaying bodies, was simply nauseating. Anyone with a timid streak would have been terrified and nearly fainted.

The professor narrowed his eyes calmly and saw several familiar faces—students from Baita University. They looked like they had been severely tortured by the horrific environment around them, but they didn't seem to have been tortured. Upon seeing him, the students pushed aside the prisoners and threw themselves against the bars, their young faces revealing astonishment, pain, worry, and deep despair.

As they passed by the interrogation room filled with various torture instruments, the judge who was holding him did not walk fast, as if he wanted to let him see everything clearly.

The not-so-large interrogation room was filled with various torture instruments, including an iron chair covered with sharp spikes and hollow at the bottom, which made one suspect that they would light a fire to roast the prisoners' thighs; on the wall were long whips with lead balls and metal fragments on the ends, which could probably whip people to a pulp with just one blow. Humans were so versatile in torturing their own kind that a series of torture spells were even derived from them.

The extremely bloody and cruel words in the historical materials seemed to be completely concretized at this moment, and in the center of the interrogation room, a group of judges were boiling people.

Literally boiling people.

The poor, ragged prisoner, hung tightly from the rope, let out an unbelievable roar, like a fish in frying pan, trying to jump out of the boiling iron pot. The judge stood by with an indifferent expression until the prisoner gradually died down. He nodded slightly, and the hand-cranked capstan beside him creaked and turned, lifting the whitish "person" - if a thing that exuded the stench of cooked meat could still be called a "person" - from the boiling water.

"Still refusing to repent?" the Judge asked coldly. "Some have accused you of being in league with the devil, joining that sinful parade, and cheering loudly as the devil slaughtered the preachers of light."

No response.

The clerk who was recording the confession came forward to check on the prisoner and said, "He's unconscious."

The internal organs were probably cooked, and it wouldn't survive for long without a healing spell - and the Judge would not cast a healing spell on such an insignificant prisoner.

The judge frowned as if in annoyance.

"Bring the next person in first."

The judge who held the professor hostage pinned him to the door of the interrogation room with malicious intent, as if he was going to push him into this hellish performance at any second - until another judge dragged another crying prisoner into the interrogation room.

The man had been frightened to the point of incontinence by the heart-wrenching scream just now, and was desperately scratching the muddy floor with his hands until his nails were curled up, leaving ten bloody marks.

"I admit it! I was bewitched by the devil, God of Light!" The man accidentally caught a glimpse of the face of the black-haired young man beside him and immediately shouted as if he had grabbed a life-saving straw: "I remember him, I identified him, he was at the pulpit when he killed those priests, he is the devil -"

The Judge who was dragging him finally stopped, leaving the prisoner to collapse on the ground, gasping for breath.

"Is what he said true, Mr. Noir?" the judge standing beside the professor asked maliciously, "Please think carefully before answering."

"Really, he didn't lie."

The black-haired young man raised his eyes very calmly, ignoring the prisoner who breathed a sigh of relief and then avoided his gaze again: "You can let go of my arm, Mr. Rajeev Ryan. I will not run away, and you hurt me."

Azuka wasn't here for the time being. He had finally managed to persuade the other person to leave, and he needed to protect himself so that he wouldn't be thrown into too much trouble by this group of people before he reunited with them, and that person would go crazy.

"How do you know my..." The judge's eyes suddenly shrank.

"Of course I know." The professor's tone was calm, as if he were reading aloud from a boring book. "I also know that you are a native of Baita Town. Your father died young, and as an adult, through the relationship between your uncle who works at the tax office, you went to work in the Inquisition of the Constant Diocese."

In fact, this is a strange coincidence. At that time, he just wanted to scare off the annoying tax official who was pursuing him relentlessly in the newspapers, and collected a lot of evidence of the other party's bribery - and the information he found out was now useful.

But the other party obviously didn't think so.

The judge seemed frightened by him. The fingers that were pinching his arm began to tremble violently, and he looked like he wanted to point at his nose and shout "devil".

The professor's brow twitched in pain.

A voice saved his arm: "Please be polite to our guests."

The strength in his arm disappeared a little, and Nova looked in the direction of the sound, only to meet a pair of unfathomable green eyes.

"...Mr. Miller." He raised his eyebrows slightly.

——The person you’ve been waiting for has arrived.

"Long time no see, Mr. Brody - or should I call you Mr. Nova?" The cardinal nodded politely at him, as if he had not noticed the young man's embarrassed appearance at the moment.

"You shouldn't be talking to me about this useless nonsense." Nova replied coldly, "Since I'm here, it's because I'm a commoner, not a noble."

The Inquisition did not have the right to arrest nobles at will. Of course, throughout its long and turbulent history, there had always been a few unlucky individuals who had been ensnared in the Inquisition due to power struggles, but the last time was a long time ago. The royal court did not care much about how these clergymen exploited the common people for wealth, but when the core interests of the nobility were touched, they reacted with surprising vehemence.

"Show some respect to the respected Cardinal!" Rajeev on the side shouted harshly as if he wanted to regain his dignity, but the pale and weak-looking black-haired scholar just glanced at him lightly.

"You don't have to rush to curry favor with the Cardinal. Instead, you should worry more about your own job," he said lazily. "You know, your boss isn't very happy with you, and your uncle's career hasn't been going well lately. He might let you go in less than a month."

"You, you devil—"

"Well, please let our guest rest first." The Cardinal interrupted the situation that was easily controlled by an ordinary person. Until the other party was shoved into the cell at the end of the corridor by Rajeev as if in revenge, looking at the young man who fell to the ground in a mess, Pavaton Miller frowned slightly and said in a cold tone: "Perhaps I can have a few words with this gentleman alone?"

The iron door of the cell was shut. Standing still, the professor frowned subconsciously from the cold. Before entering the Inquisition, perhaps fearing he might be hiding magical tools or scrolls, the inmates had roughly ordered him to strip off all his old clothes and change into a bare, simple, thin white robe. In the corner of the cell, there was only a bit of moldy, blood-stained straw to keep him warm.

Fortunately, the multi-function communicator No. 1, which was cast with a confusion spell, was still shaking gently on his chest, otherwise he was really worried that he would die in the cold winter night - of course, he couldn't tell this to anyone.

"I need a set of warmer bedding." The black-haired young man climbed up, dusted himself off, and calmly raised his chin slightly towards the cardinal, as if he were not in a bloody and dark prison, but at the king's banquet. "You don't want to freeze me to death before you achieve your goal, do you?"

"What is my purpose?" the cardinal asked calmly.

"The Black County Strike, Dante Matthews, the Chosen One."

The prisoner spoke in a light, nonchalant tone, but with every word he uttered, the cardinal's expression subtly changed for a split second, until finally, the polite smile on his face completely disappeared, leaving only a deep coldness and inquiry.

Nova looked at him calmly: "I believe you are a smart man."

The consequences of the Black County strike must have left this "Dustless Light" incredibly anxious. As the most popular candidate for pope among the five cardinals, competitors within the Vatican who saw a glimmer of hope would certainly not let him go.

But since the other party was sent by the Pope to handle such an extremely important matter as "God's Chosen One", it seems that the chips on his body are somewhat heavier than those of other competitors. Maybe it is the Pope's love and respect, or maybe it is the special treatment of the God of Light - in short, this person will never sit still and wait for death.

From the brief trial just now, it seemed that Pavaton Miller was not a member of the Sacrifice Cult, and the career of the Arbiter from the competitor's lair, who had repeatedly violated the other party's orders, was also over. Therefore, as long as the cardinal raised a little more bargaining chips, he would never let Dante Matthews and the Sacrifice Cult kill him.

"...You are very clever." The cardinal looked at him deeply.

"You're really smart. At least I've never met a young person as smart as you." He sighed with a hint of regret, "It's a pity that you chose the wrong path - and the wrong group of allies."

The professor stared at him calmly until the other party asked the judges to bring a new set of bedding, and even considerately provided food, water and a set of thick outer robes.

Silence finally returned to the cell, with only faint wailing and screaming seeping out through the gaps in the iron door. He felt as if he was in hell.

The black-haired young man suddenly collapsed slowly against the wall.

He clutched the dark red diamond pendant on his chest tightly with one hand and began to retch in suppressed pain.