Chapter 232: Bluff
Jophiel Yialos had never wanted to gag or strangle a man more than he did now.
The enemy had nearly annihilated them. Outmatched in skill, yet willing to die bravely—this was an acceptable, glorious and great outcome for a knight—but it didn't mean he had to tolerate his captive's razor-sharp gray eyes carelessly dissecting everything about him, pointing fingers at a future he didn't even know existed.
"...So is it possible to regenerate a limb severed by divine power? You're right-handed, but I don't think the royal family would waste resources and time on you, giving you enough time to adjust to holding a gun with your left hand." The guy looked rather compassionate, a sickening compassion. "How many people hate you? A knight commander with no backing, promoted by Her Majesty the Queen, or rather, the former knight commander? Can you still remain in the Kite Heart Guards?"
"It has nothing to do with you." Yialos warned him in a cold tone.
His injuries slowed him down. He had just covered his horrific wounds with his cloak and managed to go out to the streets to buy some medicine and food. The knight glanced at the captive gloomily. "If you're thinking about this, you might as well consider whether your fate will be the gallows or the guillotine."
—Or be taken over by those disgusting lunatics of the Son of Life and locked up in a lab for the rest of your life.
The other party looked at him intently for a moment, then suddenly raised his chin slightly towards him in a commanding manner: "I'm thirsty, I want to drink some water."
...Then why are you talking so much!
The knight expressionlessly thrust the water bag into the prisoner's mouth, even paying attention to the flow rate to prevent him from choking. The man bit the water bag, narrowed his eyes slightly at him, and said incoherently, "...You don't mistreat prisoners."
"You clearly hate me, why?" The black-haired young man stared at him with an interested look. He even used a declarative tone that made the knight shudder.
With a cold expression, Yialos yanked the water bag back—he felt the man would die if he wasn't careful. Furthermore, he had long since left the stage of being a brat who couldn't control his emotions and vented his anger through violence; his recent loss of composure was merely an accident. After calming down, he was still the "Iron Curtain," trusted by the queen, respected by his subordinates, and admired by everyone.
Then the Knight Commander heard the prisoner say without warning: "I am dying."
"...You do have some self-awareness." Yialos mocked calmly.
The other party ignored him completely: "Maybe in twenty minutes, or half an hour?"
"It's faster than you think, anyway." The guy calmly sat cross-legged on the ground, his hands tied behind his back. His thin, bloodless lips were slightly moist, but his face was frighteningly pale. "You don't think that staying with the gods doesn't cost anything, do you?"
There was a cold, indifferent silence in the eyes of the black-haired young man as he recounted the date of his death with extraordinary calmness - after all, there was definitely no time to find a new teleportation scroll in such a short time.
"...You have no credibility with me." The Knight Commander said coldly. He was not sure if this was another trap.
"Life or death means nothing to me." The man glanced at him and simply leaned back lazily, resting his head against the wall. His unfocused eyes stared blankly into space. "But you, nearly all of you, sacrificed your lives, and all you could bring back was a stinking corpse... Ha."
The knight fell silent again. As time passed, he could clearly see the other man's breathing becoming weaker and weaker, and a trace of blood began to flow out from the corner of his lips.
...He knew that this guy must have other intentions, but he didn't dare to gamble, nor could he afford to gamble.
The Knight Commander suddenly stood up, and moments later, as his magic tool activated, a magical light illuminated a corner of the room. The severely wounded Silver Helmet Knight slowly knelt on one knee with difficulty, bowing his noble head to the figure emerging from the screen of light: "...Your Majesty."
The figure of a woman was hidden within the curtain of light. She wore no dazzling jewels, no soft, flowing silk, only a pair of golden eyes, like a beast from the depths of darkness.
In the corner of the room outside the light curtain, the black-haired young man slowly stood up with some difficulty: "...It's really not easy to see you."
——Of course, the most difficult thing is to keep the head on your neck after meeting someone.
Those smoky grey eyes met the golden beast pupils calmly, transcending the distance of space, like two colliding stars in the universe: "Your Majesty."
Esmerel, the current queen of the Silver Iris Empire, did not seem shocked by the miserable state of the Iris Heart Guards. She even quickly glanced around at the blood-soaked and staggering Knight Commander, her gaze fixed on his severed arm for a moment, and then turned all her attention back to the black-haired young man whose arms were tied behind his back.
"Nova."
The hoarse female voice slowly bit the syllable, as if biting a confusing piece of hard black stone stuck in the soft and rotten ointment.
…
Ialos retreated respectfully to a further corner, even taking the initiative to cast a spell to prevent eavesdropping on them. There were some things that even he, the most trusted Knight Commander in His Majesty's esteem, could not touch—such as the gods, and the chosen ones.
A thrilling test of each other. Nova, expressionless, carefully observed every subtle muscle change on the other's face, while those golden eyes were also observing him thoughtfully.
"The Goddess of Love hasn't branded you with her divine seal. She can't do anything to you." After several rounds of back-and-forth, the other party suddenly asked without warning, "Are you truly the chosen one?"
Even though one of his most deadly secrets had been revealed, the black-haired young man remained fearless as he looked into the eyes of the most distinguished woman in this country. "Is this important to you?"
After a brief silence, a hoarse laugh suddenly erupted from the other side of the light curtain. It was intermittent, mixed with an inexplicable sense of joy and relief: "I really do like you!"
As the laughter died down, Esmerel shook his head with some regret: "What a pity."
I don't know what she regrets.
The queen stared at the expressionless black-haired young man in front of her with great interest. Perhaps due to past experiences, her speech lacked the usual evasiveness common among aristocrats—or perhaps it was because her status allowed her to dispense with euphemisms. "Can you really resurrect a god?"
"You don't question my qualifications," the other man replied with an arrogant demeanor that would have scared anyone else to death. "You just need to understand, at this moment, before the God of Eros, who is the dog trapped by the collar? Until then, there's nothing more to discuss."
He drooped his eyes as if he was somewhat bored. Ikaros, who could only see the scene at the side, suddenly realized that something seemed to be wrong - he rushed over, but before his only remaining left hand could touch the black-haired young man, he was caught off guard by the neck and slammed to the ground.
The Knight Commander, who was already seriously injured, fainted as expected. The last thing he saw before he passed out was a pair of blue eyes that seemed to be nurturing glaciers.
...That guy was indeed lying to him. The knight was almost numb with anger and despair, and he unwillingly fell into the darkness of confusion.
Without the warlock's power, the magic tool suddenly flickered as if it was experiencing a signal failure, and the screen clicked and disappeared. The professor calmly glanced at the queen's face, which finally showed a hint of surprise. Then he looked up and gave a somewhat stiff smile to his savior, who was looking down at him. "Good timing! Kudos to you."
As soon as he opened his mouth, the tip of his tongue, which he had deliberately bitten to drink water, began to bleed again. The black-haired young man's expression froze for a moment, and he lowered his head as if nothing had happened, wanting to take the opportunity to lick the blood from his lips.
But before he could finish his clumsy cover-up, he was lifted from the ground by someone's waist. His swollen, tired chin rested comfortably on the other person's shoulder, and Nova rubbed it almost instinctively. But before he could open his mouth to ask for help in untying the bandages binding his arms, he suddenly felt a dull pain in his butt.
professor:"……!"
The black-haired young man's eyes slowly widened in disbelief.
"You clearly agreed!" He was so angry that he wanted to slap someone, but his tongue was still hurting, so he had to angrily blame the bastard who had spanked him for no reason, trying to make people feel guilty about it: "I didn't hide it from you. All the plans have been told in advance-"
"Yes, telling me ten minutes in advance - do I have a choice, sir?" The other party narrowed his eyes with a half-smile.
"I'm not an omniscient and omnipotent God. I have to make judgments based on the actual situation - besides, nothing will go wrong with you here." He struggled in dissatisfaction in the blond young man's arms, but the only result was that the pain in his shoulders and arms became worse, and he was hit hard on the buttocks again. He couldn't help but hissed.
The Savior's voice dropped dangerously low. "'To live or to die is meaningless to me,' huh?"
"I was just fooling him, I didn't really mean it." His old enemy stared at him righteously with his gray eyes. He looked quite aggrieved and innocent, as if he was the one who was making trouble for no reason - great, this guy sincerely thought that he had done a great job this time and should be praised instead of being beaten.
Azuka slowly closed his eyes.
...But you did it, my moon. Even though your body has been destroyed, the schemes you left behind continue to operate unquestioned, like an irresistible fate for all living things—until the end of time.
He began to peel the bandages around the black-haired youth's arms, leaving bruises on the fragile flesh. With terrifying patience, the blond rubbed the youth's arms inch by inch, until he elicited a shudder of pain and a slight, suppressed groan from the man in his arms.
The savior's blue eyes were dark and difficult to discern, and some dark and dangerous thoughts were rolling uncontrollably deep in his chest. If pain could really make this man feel a little afraid, then it would be great - but he still just slowly lowered his eyes. Wherever his fingers touched, the hideous marks had returned to health.
"...Azuka."
His old enemy, with his freed arms, threw his arms around his neck. He opened his mouth to reveal a bleeding gash on his tongue, cut by his teeth.
"My tongue hurts too, help me." The black-haired young man said vaguely.
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