Ian awoke groggily, the back of his head throbbing with a splitting pain. It took quite some time for his eyes to adjust and make out his surroundings. The room had no windows; it was cold, damp, and built directly from undecorated, rough-hewn bluestone blocks. Patches of moss dotted the walls, and water dripped incessantly from the ceiling. An assortment of torture devices, large and small, filled the space, their surfaces stained with blackened blood that seemed ages old, yet the screams of their past victims felt as if they still echoed in the air. Two torches sputtered in sconces on the opposite wall, their flickering light hurting his eyes. Everything in the room seemed to dance and warp menacingly in the firelight. The old mayor was suspended spread-eagled against the wall, his wrists and ankles manacled to iron rings. He struggled briefly, trying to recall a spell, but a sudden, sharp crack of a whip brutally cut off his attempt.
Rogue paced irritably around the room, his gaze fixed gloomily on Ian. The fat man waved for the mercenaries in the room to leave, then approached Ian. Ian wisely abandoned any further attempt at spellcasting. Magic required the power of incantation, specific gestures to trace magical symbols, and the unique mental resonance of the caster to succeed. With his hands immobilized like this, Ian could only manage a handful of low-level spells. And Rogue looked nothing like a man who would let him finish a chant.
The fat man stared hatefully at Ian. Truth be told, he was still deeply shaken by the Disintegrate spell from earlier that day. The fifth-level spell Disintegrate wasn't very practical, mainly due to its low success rate, usually hovering around 50%. But even those odds meant Rogue had been gambling with his life. If he hadn't pre-cast Haste on himself and possessed agility surpassing most warriors, it might not have been the yellow dog turned to dust.
"What... what is this place?" Ian's voice was aged and weary.
"This is the dungeon of Cyrus Castle, Mr. Ian."
"Why not just kill me?"
"Because I have many questions for you, Mr. Ian."
"Heh, heh, heh, heh," Ian chuckled dryly. "Lord Rogue, do you think a man like me, with one foot in the grave, will satisfy your demands?"
Seeing Rogue's confident expression, Ian's laughter gradually died away. "Mr. Ian," Rogue said, "as an adventurer, you are a bit too old. As a mage, you are too... orthodox. As a mayor, you have a son and a daughter. So I suspect you might find it hard to understand that sometimes death is not the hardest thing to accept, nor the worst outcome. Perhaps you aren't afraid of death yourself, but the consequences of your death might be something you cannot accept. Like right now. You could choose death and be done with it. I wouldn't stop you." As he spoke, Rogue opened a small iron shutter in the wall, and Guta's agonized screams immediately flooded the room.
"You devil! Fiend destined for hell! You... you... you still won't let my son go!" Ian struggled frantically, the iron rings clanking loudly against the stone.
"Mr. Ian, if you truly, sincerely wanted me to spare your son, you shouldn't have cast that Disintegrate spell today. Besides, the longer you delay, the more your son, Mr. Guta, suffers. You see, I'm not an utterly heartless man. Let's begin quickly. I am very keen to know the real purpose of the Snow Fox occupying Cyrus Castle."
Guta's screams hammered against Ian's heart, one after another. The old mayor's face contorted, and he finally began to answer. This idea had been Franco's contribution: let Ian hear the sounds of Guta's torment but not see the actual torture. "The imagination is the greatest tormentor of the will," Franco had summarized the plan.
"The Snow Fox is here to excavate the ruins of a Necromancer. What they are searching for is, I'm told, an angel statue."
"I know that much!" Rogue said impatiently. "What is that statue for?"
"That statue... is said to hold a secret concerning a fallen angel. There are also legends linking it to a major scandal within the Church. That is all I know! Now make them stop!"
Rogue pondered for a moment. He had long since handed that Purgatorial Angel statue over to Ophirok. Since the Ice Silver Fox had gone to such lengths to obtain it, it must be something extraordinary. But firstly, he couldn't decipher its secrets himself, and secondly, even if he did, he definitely couldn't keep it. He understood the old adage well: sometimes, the treasure itself is the crime. Handing the statue to Ophirok was called 'diverting the trouble elsewhere.' Let the Golden Lion handle any fallout. These nobles had no ambition to overthrow dynasties or become continental powerhouses. While they loved wealth, they sought riches enough to dominate a region, not the entire world. So, no matter how you looked at it, that statue was a hot potato, best disposed of early.
"What about this 'Law of Space' you mentioned?!" Rogue suddenly barked sharply.
Ian started, his expression shifting dramatically. He struggled, "I don't know anything about any Law of Space! I... I don't know!"
The fat man and the old man glared at each other in fury, while Guta's screams continued to echo in the room.
A long time passed before the fat man spoke again. "What secret could possibly be more important to you than your own son? It would be best to speak truthfully. Do you really think you can hold out till the end? I'm not particularly interested in that statue or whatever. The reason I captured you is because you colluded with the Snow Fox and tried to frame us. And we always pay our debts. Since you failed to kill us, you must die. Another reason is for this Law of Space. Out of respect for you as a fellow mage, I'll advise you one last time. It's better to talk."
Ian's mouth twitched, his teeth clenched tightly on his lips until blood trickled down. He shut his eyes tightly, two streams of murky tears flowing silently down his cheeks. He refused to open his mouth, even unto death.
Rogue gritted his teeth. "Fine. Let's see how long you can endure it! Lance! Are you back yet?"
Lance's sarcastic voice drifted in through the window. "Of course! A small matter like this? With me, the old master, handling it, it was like taking candy from a baby! Hahaha! Come here, little girl, let this old master have a feel... not bad, nice feel! Big, really big!!" This was followed by the sound of a young woman's crying and screams.
"Fayla!!" Ian's eyes snapped open, and he roared like a wild beast. "You beasts!! God will punish you!! You will go to hell, burn forever in the purgatorial flames!!"
Rogue's expression remained unchanged. "You know I will find out the secret of the Law of Space sooner or later. Perhaps it's a secret to you now, but maybe it will become common knowledge in the future. Are you still unwilling to speak? If you talk, you will still die, but at least your son and daughter will be spared."
The sound of tearing cloth came from next door, mingled with Fayla's cries and Lance's laughter.
Rogue simply watched Ian quietly.
The torchlight flickered even more violently, making everything in the room appear even more ghastly and sinister.
Lance's voice came again: "Rogue, the old bastard still won't talk, huh? Fine by me! His daughter here really has smooth skin and tender flesh, hehe. If you're not going to have a go, then I'll enjoy her myself!"
Fayla's piercing shriek almost ruptured Rogue's eardrums, followed by Lance's bull-like panting and heavy breathing.
The door opened, and Franco walked in. He frowned and said, "This Lance, always so lacking in aesthetic sense. And I don't understand you either. Is this 'Law of Space' really worth all this trouble?"
Rogue said faintly, "I am determined to get it."
Franco shook his head and sighed. "No matter what it is, I'll help you. Just don't let things spiral out of control." He turned and stared at Ian for a moment, then said in a low voice, "Old man, you'd better speak now. Don't force us to use our final move."
Time passed, with only pain as the eternal theme.
With a final, triumphant roar from Lance, silence fell. Guta's screams had also, at some point, ceased.
The three in the dungeon cell found themselves at an impasse.
Rogue sighed, then suddenly shouted sharply, "Old man! Must you force your own children to commit grave sins and burn in hellfire for eternity after death?!"
Ian looked as if struck by lightning. His greying hair began to fall out in clumps. His aged voice sounded utterly hollow and powerless: "Lord, forgive your servant for having to make a deal with a devil."
He raised his head; his eyes were clouded and utterly devoid of light – he had gone blind. "I will tell you everything I know... about the Law of Space..."
Next door, it had also grown quiet, leaving only Fayla's low, intermittent sobs echoing.
Lance and Keith walked in. The reprobates stood silently.
Ian's aged voice echoed in the spacious torture chamber. Even the flames seemed unable to suppress their thrill at hearing such secrets, leaping and struggling wildly as if trying to jump from the torches to the center of the room.
"In the year 200 of the Sacred Calendar, the then Pope Padik received a divine revelation. He journeyed to the peak of the Thebes Mountains and witnessed a meteor falling from the sky. Within the flames, there seemed to be a figure..."
The meteor struck the earth, and towering flames shot towards the sky. Where the fire passed, the peak's millennia-old ice and snow instantly vaporized completely. Everything within a radius of over ten miles was annihilated, leaving only a deep black crater. The surrounding rock had been melted, leaving a glassy, crystalline surface.
Despite being dozens of miles from the impact site, the shockwave of spatial energy still made Padik stumble. He was utterly shocked. With his strength as Pope, possessing level 16 in divine power, and being so far away, merely the residual energy ripple had made him unsteady. How immense must the energy of that meteor have been?
Padik waited for the energy shockwave to pass before leaning on his staff and arduously climbing towards the crater. The old Pope had come alone, traveling through the deep mountains for over half a month. Though his magical power was profound, allowing him to use Fly periodically, he was utterly exhausted by now.
From afternoon, twilight gradually descended. The old Pope finally reached the crater floor. Five hundred years ago, the Sacred Church, though not as vast as today, still had millions of followers, and the Pope already had his own papal state. In his daily life, the old Pope, if not living in utter extravagance, certainly enjoyed comforts no less than any minor king. When had he ever endured such hardship? His red robes were now tattered, his high mitre askew, his face and hands covered in scratches. In the end, his steps faltered, and he tumbled head over heels, finally arriving at his destination.
At the bottom of the crater, an exquisitely crafted, ornate disc hovered in mid-air. Substantial-looking golden bands of light danced around it. The center of the disc was engraved with incomprehensible script, surrounded by what appeared to be a circle of purple-gold, though closer inspection revealed it was an incredibly intricate pattern, seemingly a magic array. Waves of intangible fluctuation emanated from the disc's center, causing the very space around it to subtly warp. The figure within the flames was now merely a few pieces of bone, its original form unrecognizable.
The space around them fluctuated. A dozen or so angelic figures, hidden within dazzling golden light, gradually materialized. Remembering the divine revelation, Padik gritted his teeth and reached for the disc. As his hand entered the spatial distortion surrounding the disc, it began to age and wither at a visible rate. By the time he grasped the disc, the old Pope's entire arm was reduced to bare bone. Clutching the disc, the old Pope departed with the angels.
The torture chamber fell silent for a moment.
Rogue asked, "That disc?"
"Yes. That was the Wheel of Space, which records the Law of Space. According to Padik's notes, the mysterious script engraved in the center of the Wheel of Space is the Law of Space itself! But no one has ever been able to decipher the Law of Space, nor why it appeared in this world."
"What about those angels?" Keith asked.
"From what I know, at least some of those angels are still within the Sacred Church, receiving worship and providing protection."
The noble reprobates finally understood why the Sacred Church had risen so rapidly in recent years and frequently displayed miracles. What troubled the scoundrels was that if angels were indeed within the Sacred Church, then the Supreme God the Church believed in must also exist. And given the reprobates' actions, from any perspective, they did not align with the teachings of God. Didn't that mean the scoundrels were destined only for hell? Thinking this, their faces turned somewhat pale.
After the life-and-death battle, Keith's power had greatly increased, unexpectedly manifesting Battle Aura – and Sacred Battle Aura at that. When a warrior's strength reached a certain level, the phenomenon of externalized Battle Aura would appear, and its color depended on the warrior's specific attributes. This was something the reprobates found utterly baffling. Keith's inner nature was absolutely nowhere near the word 'sacred.' His father's cyan Icy Battle Aura was considered a neutral attribute, which was one thing. But for his son to develop Sacred Battle Aura... that was a bit of a cruel joke. One could only say that even God dozes off sometimes. There was an upside, though. The reprobates had already decided they must drag Keith along for their future endeavors. In the eyes of the common people, a Sacred Knight would inevitably stand on the side of justice.
Only Rogue had already known about the existence of angels within the Sacred Church.
Ian continued, "On his deathbed, the old Pope Padik left behind two pages of notes concerning the Law of Space. At his funeral, the Necromancer Roderick arrived astride an unprecedented giant bone dragon, crossing the skies. He battled the four Great Angels present. In that battle, three Great Angels were wounded and one was slain. Half a page of Padik's notes on the Law of Space was snatched away. Heh, heh. Roderick, truly worthy of his title as the most powerful Necromancer!"
"After that battle, the Sacred Church pursued and hunted Roderick for over four hundred years. But the priests and knights sent knew that without a Light Angel present, encountering Roderick was simply suicide. So, everyone was powerless, just going through the motions. It wasn't until three years ago, when Roderick himself came to the Odi Grand Temple, that he was utterly destroyed by the Judgment Light descended from the Heavenly Realm. That time, the Holy Maiden Venna and the Cardinal Brunn both martyred themselves for the faith. No one knows why he did it. It was tantamount to suicide."
Rogue sneered inwardly. 'Hmph, as if having a Light Angel present would have helped? That damned old man... to have such a background. Why didn't he give me that bone dragon? Damn it.'
Slowly, several lines of text surfaced in Rogue's mind:
"Between the azure heavens and the dark prisons, purgatorial flames ever burn.
All living beings are like ants; this is the mortal dust.
Above the floating life, the Celestial Immortals and the Buddhas.
Beyond the Six Paths, the myriad realms are without limit."
Rogue thought this was probably the content of that half-page of notes Roderick had snatched. By the look of it, it seemed to say the world was divided into the Heavenly Realm, the Demon Realm, the Mortal Realm, and so on. Wasn't that just stating the obvious? Who knew why the old man fought so fiercely, almost getting himself killed, to snatch this thing? It seemed the only way to understand would be to snatch the remaining notes from the Sacred Church, or even steal the Wheel of Space itself to study.
The mere thought of robbing the Sacred Church immediately conjured an image in Rogue's mind: endless ranks of Sacred Knights, dense crowds of priests and acolytes, all staring coldly at him. Dozens of angels floated in the sky above. And Venna, a third-level Light Angel, had only managed to get the title of Holy Maiden. (Rogue, judging others by his own standards, naturally assumed stronger power meant wanting a higher position.) It seemed, no, it was certain, that higher-ranked angels were hiding within the Sacred Church. Rogue felt his scalp prickle.
The fat man agonized for a while, then suddenly burst into loud laughter. He thought to himself, 'That damned old man's mission, what the hell does it have to do with me? In this life, I'll boast, flatter, enjoy fine wine and beautiful women, live happily and freely. What's wrong with that? I won't waste brainpower on this. Better to steer clear of the Sacred Church. I might need to rely on them someday. Which great traitorous minister said it? 'If I can't beat you, then I'll join you!' Heh, heh. It resonates deeply with me, deeply indeed!'
"Nothing motivates me more than seeing you add my book to your collection! I'll be writing and posting new chapters for you every day!"