The effect of the incense was unexpectedly good, and Curt felt like every muscle in his body froze, unable to move a little finger, and even breathing became extremely difficult.

Everything was shrouded in darkness, black and cold, as if falling into the deepest abyss. Then there was a precarious scene, and some kind of ambiguous scene appeared before his eyes. It was an illusion, perhaps a dream, a nightmare that he had buried in the depths of his memory.

The scene that happened many years ago has not been forgotten even after several years. A qiē seemed so real, the white moon rising upwards, the indifferent frozen woods, the earth covered with pale blue crystals, and the fragments of flesh and blood scattered all over the ground, shattered to the point that they could not be seen.

Warriors in all kinds of armor were torn apart mercilessly, and the shattered flesh flew everywhere, staining the ground covered in crystals a blinding red. Armor, weapons, shields, metal and wood were violently broken and reduced to wreckage along with their owners.

There was no doubt that there had been a terrible battle here - but how many people had fallen here? dozens, hundreds, thousands? Curt did not remember how many people had lost their lives in this battle, only the earth that night was stained red with corpses.

"It doesn't make sense, really, it doesn't make any sense. ”

Entrenched in the middle of the sea of dead bones, a black beast uttered helpless words in human language: "Senseless bloodshed—in fact, I have no ill will, but I can only teach you what fear is. It's not what I want to see, and maybe it's not what you want to see. ”

The pitch-black beast slowly writhed, its body covered in a layer of metallic scales as terrifying as the great serpent of ancient legends. The wings that extended from the torso were all tattered, and they were asymmetrically distributed on the snake's body. Crookedly draped.

"Farewell, sons of men," the serpent flapped its tattered wings and lifted its unscathed body into the air, "fearing the darkness of the past while pursuing the light ahead, perhaps it's not just you. It is also a necessary way for other species to grow. ”

The black serpent has never been recorded since, but neither the survivors nor those who investigated the tragedy have ever forgotten its existence. This is the result of a head-on collision with the "Scourge Designation". Thousands of lives were lost in exchange for meaningless results.

Curt Leernst, so badly injured that he could only lie on the ground like an ant, was one of the survivors. The appearance of the serpent is still fresh in my memory, and it may not be hostile, but the mere existence of the serpent will bring endless bloody rain to the surrounding area.

Human beings can only be human beings after all. When facing an opponent as powerful as a "natural disaster", choosing to forcibly confront it can only taste its own powerlessness and fragility countless times. It is often not the most powerful individuals who survive, but those who are adapted to their environment and adept at avoiding danger.

The vision slowly darkened

Boom!

Suddenly, a dull pain came from the door of the brain. It was as if someone had beaten Curt in the head with a heavy blunt object. The dream faded in an instant, the pain-disturbed illusion vanished from the eye in the blink of an eye, and the remaining darkness was gradually dispelled from the sight of the flickering fire.

"Good morning, did you have a good dream?"

In the haze, he was greeted by a sneering snicker: "Even if you have to do it, you don't need to follow their pace." While this does make them take it lightly, that amount of tranquilizing herb doesn't just have the effect of 'calming the nerves and helping them sleep', I'm afraid it can make most creatures sleep for a long time - but for you and me. It doesn't make any sense anymore, does it?"

Lizzie had warned Curt that the herb was as effective as a poison, but he chose this option anyway. Now it sounds. Lizzie's tone contained more ridicule than blame, and even a little laugh. It seems that Curt is very satisfied with the adventure he has chosen, or that the Eye of Truth has taken them to a very crucial place.

If there is only a thin line between recklessness and bravery, then this girl definitely belongs to the former. She used to be quite cautious in her ways, but lately she has become more adventurous—perhaps because of a change in her physique. Her pain began to go numb.

"I'm afraid it's the worst dream I've had in years, and I really wouldn't want to see that snake if I could. Curt sat up with a wry smile. The smell of decay in the air made his nose wrinkle, "And I didn't expect them to transport us to a place like this." ”

A cold, hard touch came from the ends of the limbs. With Curt's actions, there was a series of crisp resonant sounds. It was several shackles made of refined steel, one end that locked Curt's limbs and the other was attached to the iron plates on the wall.

Of course, this was the most primitive means of preventing the prisoners from escaping, restraining their bodies with utensils of various materials. This may be a kind of preferential treatment, after all, if the cage is run by more brutal murderers, they may use more brutal means to limit their mobility.

Left and right, the two of them were locked in a small cubicle made of heavy stone bricks, lit only by dim wall lamps in the walkway. It appears to be a dungeon in the standard sense of the word, with cold iron latticework that ruthlessly separates the inside and outside of the cell.

The filthy environment is accompanied by a foul stench, as if a large pile of excrement is mixed with the smell of rotten matter, and the terrible environment of this dungeon only needs to be smelled by the nose. You can still smell the stench of iron and blood faintly, and the smell of their mixture can only make people feel disgusting.

Not only Curt, but Lizzie was also chained to the corner of the cage with several metal shackles, but she was lazily leaning against a pile of hay, her hands propped up on her cheeks. Looking at her leisurely appearance, she doesn't look like a prisoner whose freedom is restricted.

Unlike the blackened steel shackles on Curt's body, the silver metal chain attached to Lizzie's body had a faint blue sheen. It was a torture instrument known as the "Shackles of Lead", an alloy mixed with lead-based materials that was often used as a tool to bind sorcerers.

It is said that lead has been used in a variety of places since mythological times, and it is especially important for mages to keep magic at bay. Not only are they able to hinder the extension of natural magic, but they can also affect the magic in nearby creatures.

After a long period of research, the sorcerers in charge of the research discovered many ways to use it. Perhaps the most important invention was to mix them with other materials in a certain proportion to create shackles that could hinder the weaving of spells.

Since the appearance of this kind of shackles, there have been very few mages who can break free from them, and the magic in their bodies has been forcibly isolated from the outside world, making it difficult to interfere with the phenomena of the outside world. To be sure, locking up a "theoretical apprentice" with this kind of stuff is a bit overkill.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm honest and didn't resist. ”

Lizzie shrugged her shoulders indifferently, and fiddled with the shackles on her wrists indifferently: "Not long after you fainted, that guy asked someone to call me to the second floor, saying that you were going to find me to tell me the truth, do you know how boring it is to pretend to be a weak little girl?"

Lizzie's complaint wasn't that she was locked up in "lead shackles" by the enemy, which was a rare experience for a sorcerer. She just didn't like the fact that she always had to pretend to be harmless to humans and animals - especially with hostile mages.

"I don't know what this place is—after all, those guys didn't give me a chance to write down the road. She smiled crookedly, then grabbed the chain and tugged hard, "And they thought this crudely stuff could lock me up?"

Boom!

With a crisp cracking sound, the chain attached to the wall was actually torn off by her. These chains do prevent the caster from connecting with the outside world, but they don't seem to be of enough quality to support Lizzie's mana and pull at all costs.

There is definitely more than this compartment in this dungeon, and the flickering light of the fire can be seen in the rows of metal bars stretching into the distance. From time to time, you can hear the faint breathing and muffled screams in the distance, perhaps from other victims.

The chains attached to the wall were ripped off one by one by Lizzie, and the sound of metal breaking echoed through the hollow underground. The constant sound of metal spread into the distance, attracting a series of hurried footsteps, and it seemed that the dungeon's guards were attracted to her.

Curt remembers that a philosopher in the Old World had said that for speculators, fifty percent of the profits were enough to drive them to take risks, that they could trample on all the laws if they had twice the profits, and that they were not even afraid of death if the profits were more than twice as much.

He used to think that this was an empty word, after all, no matter how much there was to gain, there was no point in not having the opportunity to use them. But now, looking at the sorcerer and the man lurking around him, he felt that there was some truth to that statement—especially for gamblers who thought they had the means to win.

"Isn't that just right? ”

Curt suddenly sneered in a low voice, and then gently tugged on the chain attached to the wall: "I don't know what kind of place this is, but since they sent us to such a place, if we don't make a big fuss, how can we be worthy of the host's kind invitation?"

The footsteps of several people are still slowly approaching, and Curt reaches for the chains that bind him (to be continued)