Chapter 33 Game
Nite Samman waited anxiously in his cell. As the minutes ticked by, his malicious anticipation gradually turned into restlessness. It had been a full day, and even if he'd just chopped a person into pieces, the job should have been done. But even as the sun rose the next day, no one had come to report.
"Useless! All of them!" the former Sheriff's Director cursed in his cell. It would be fine if he simply didn't have the chance to kill him, but if those idiots let Brody escape death and he had the chance to complain, that would be a disaster.
Just then, his deputy came hurriedly with a stack of newspapers in his hand.
"Sir, something terrible has happened!"
Nite Samman was overjoyed: "Why, Nova Brody is dead?"
Not noticing the strange expression on his subordinate's face, he quickly snatched the newspaper over the railing. As he read, his expression became more and more distorted, and his hands were shaking with anger.
"Ridiculous! It's absolute nonsense!" Nite Saman roared, throwing the newspaper. However, he noticed from the corner of his eye that the other subordinates were vaguely looking at his lower body, and his facial features suddenly twisted hideously.
"What the hell are you looking at?" he roared in frustration. "Go find out who the bastard who edited the Graybridge Harbor Breaking News is. How dare he openly slander a nobleman? I'm going to burn him and his newspaper down—get out of here now, get out!"
Everyone left, leaving Nit Samman gasping for breath in the cell. He angrily tore the newspaper into pieces, and not satisfied, he smashed all the gorgeous decorations in the cell.
"Nova Brody..."
Finally, he sat on the ground panting, chewing the damn name grimly. After meeting that person, everything went wrong.
That sharp-tongued freak, naive, arrogant, and foolish, was just the son of a mere viscount, unable even to inherit the title. When he got out, he would make sure that man was miserable, neither alive nor dead. Speaking of which, that guy had a pretty face, so it seemed a pity to just kill him like that. Although he had no interest in men before, it might be worth a try...
The sound of heels hitting the ground came from the door, coming from far away and approaching, clear and gentle. Nit Saman, who was furious and had nowhere to vent his anger, was about to scold the blind man who dared to disobey his orders, but when he looked up, he found that there was no ghost.
"Varied……"
Nite Samman fell limply to the ground, his eyes half-open and lifeless, as if he didn't see the figure in front of him at all, and a dazed expression appeared on his greasy and sweaty face.
His body glowed faintly, and in the other man's eyes, which had turned golden, was reflected a light grey figure bound by layers of shackles, with his features blurred and indistinct.
This is the origin of man, or in other words, the human soul.
The destruction of limbs can be repaired by magic, but once the human soul is damaged, the damage is almost irreversible - therefore, spells that can directly affect the soul are all high-level spells, and most of them are prohibited from use.
This guy actually believes in the God of Light and seems quite devout.
Azuka sensed the faint presence of the God of Light on the soul and sneered. With a flick of his finger, the translucent soul, faintly overlapping the body, suddenly screamed silently. Ominous cracks gradually appeared on the soul, like burnt and cracked embryonic soil.
The cracks stopped just before they tore the soul apart. Upon closer inspection, they formed a chain, tightly strangling the other's soul. Nit Samman's body also felt intense pain, and he lay on the ground convulsing, becoming incontinent.
Soul Hunt, a lesser-known but highly effective capital punishment spell, was primarily used to inflict pain, with the added benefit of allowing the caster to sense the victim's movements. If the caster failed to control the spell, the victim's soul would gradually fragment, slowly dying in unimaginable agony, their body unable to detect any signs of the condition. In the late century, it was primarily used to torture criminals and heretics, but its use was now forbidden. He had learned this technique from Orel in his previous life.
The golden glow in the God-Favored One's eyes gradually faded, leaving only a figure writhing in disarray on the ground. He lowered his eyes indifferently, and before leaving, he cast a confusion spell. When the person woke up, they would clean up the mess themselves, completely unaware that their lives were already counting down.
The professor wants Neet Samman to appear in court alive.
"This is what the people of Yuwei Street deserve." The man changed into pajamas and dozed off under the quilt while he sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch the other's forehead with some concern.
I feel a little feverish.
After forcing the man to drink another bowl of medicine, the drowsy enemy seemed to docile a lot. He didn't immediately open his hand and glared at him with disapproval. Instead, he frowned and avoided his hand, saying in a calm tone, "If he just died in prison, everything the people of Fishtail Street fought for would be buried by the Saman family, and there would even be a danger of the truth being reversed."
"Although it's disgusting, the voices of the common people alone are not enough. We must make a big deal of this matter, bring it to court, and drag the Royal Court into the matter. We must let the Empire's legal and power centers participate in the final decision. Butterfield Saman has offended many people, and the Saman family's rival families will not miss this good opportunity. If they can suppress the nobles, the Church and the royal power will also be happy to see it happen. And I wanted to say before that in about a month or two, I should receive an invitation from the court to testify, and then I will have to come to Graybridge Port. But since you are not in a hurry to take action, then wait with me."
The black-haired young man lowered his eyes wearily, massaging his temples. His gloves were completely ruined by the blood, so he didn't wear them. "Perhaps we can witness history—a noble with silver blood being sent to the gallows for harming a commoner."
The God-favored One stared at the other person deeply, without saying a word. The other person waited for a while, and finally raised his eyelids to look at him impatiently: "I'm so sleepy, what are you still doing here? Do you want me to tell you a story to put you to sleep?"
The marks on the man's neck had already begun to turn purple. He was silent for a moment, then simply leaned over and slowly embraced the warm, fragile body before him, feeling the gentle breathing of his nemesis on his chest. The faint smell of blood on the man disappeared, leaving only a light, clean vapor.
Those cold, cruel and crazy thoughts gradually disappeared from his mind. When he saw the bloody thin figure, the inexplicable fear finally overflowed at this moment.
"…Are you sick again?"
The other party was rare and considerate, and calmed down, letting him hold him for a while - but only for a moment, then he pressed his palms against his face and roughly tried to push him away.
"I'm very sleepy." His nemesis emphasized expressionlessly, "Respected Lord, please control yourself."
It's not that I can't control myself, the Savior thought, I just... don't want to control myself.
He has always been the calmest, yet craziest, among his companions.
"You have to curb your need for control!" Maxine had once had a private argument with the younger him, or rather, it was just one person remaining silent while the other lashed out in anger. "Azuka, you know I'm not good at sweet talk. I have to admit that you're smart, capable, and the most reliable of us—but you can't always be like this, always shouldering everything on your own, not telling us what's going on, and simply demanding everyone act according to your will. If anyone doesn't listen, then you use all sorts of tactics to coerce them—"
The red-haired girl's green eyes were filled with tears of disappointment. "Aren't you tired of being like this all the time? We are companions, why can't you trust us a little more?"
Since that quarrel, the Savior really stopped being so arbitrary, and similar disputes among his companions almost never occurred, but only Azuka himself knew that he was just doing everything more obscurely and more cleverly.
He knew that the professor was hiding something from him.
It was too obvious. The God's Blessed One couldn't be unaware of the triggering effect of the protection spell he had cast, and the other party had no intention of covering it up. But since the professor chose not to discuss the matter with him, he pretended to be ignorant for the time being.
Time and experience had increased the patience of the God-Favored One, making him more gentle and considerate, or perhaps even more cunning and patient. Under his silent guidance, the wariness of his young enemy towards him had apparently been gradually dissipated, which could be said to be a form of compromise.
His old enemy had obviously realized his tactics and had made sarcastic remarks against him several times, but this "game" that both sides knew was well understood and was evenly matched made him feel a strange kind of joy and satisfaction that made him want to smile.
Finally, in front of the professor, he recast the protective spell. The other party, quite interested, inquired a few more questions, but soon grew too sleepy to pursue them. Under his gaze, he slowly closed his eyes, his breathing becoming more relaxed. The divinely favored one couldn't help but gently place his hand on the enemy's neck, where bruises had appeared, feeling the warmth of his palm against the skin and the steady, clear pulse beneath.
"…Goodnight, Professor."
The God-Favoured One spoke softly. He loosened his grip, tucked the quilt under the man, and then left the room, gently closing the bedroom door.
In the dim bedroom, the black-haired young man who seemed to be in deep sleep suddenly opened his eyes, frowned and touched his neck.
The pain disappeared, probably some kind of healing spell—only the warmth of the other person's palm remained on his skin, seeping slowly into his flesh. The other person felt his pulse and must have known he was still awake.
The man quickly tested the limits of his tolerance, and then the offense was subtle and intimate, but not to the point of being alarming or annoying...
Nova closed his eyes again. Without the pain and subtle feeling of suffocation, he quickly became sleepy this time. Before his consciousness completely disappeared, only one thought remained.
...confusing guy.
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