Click, click.

Footsteps rang out from far and near.

Henry Eric's ears moved, he got up from the table, rubbed his sour eyes, put the gold-framed monocle on the bridge of his nose, and spread out the register in front of him.

He graduated from the first university less than a year ago, although he is a registered wizard, but because of his poor grades, he has no way to participate in those hunting groups in the famous new world, and there is no way to stay in school, and finally he can only enter the wizarding alliance.

He was then assigned to the Black Prison and became an honorable registrar.

Responsible for the registration of visitors and persons entering and leaving the prison.

He is currently in his internship period.

According to the old people in prison, the job of a registrar is easy most of the time. Because apart from the rotating hunting team, this dark world rarely has visitors from the outside world.

However, I am afraid of the word 'but' in everything.

But since Eric became the registrar of the castle, the number of guests entering and leaving the prison has increased dramatically tenfold. Almost every day, dozens, or even dozens, wizards arrived—including researchers from First University, professors, teaching assistants, and school workers from First University, the famous hunters of the New World, and many old fellows from the Moonless Council.

This kind of 'pomp' has not even been seen by those old jailers who have spent their lives in the black prison.

Obviously, something big is going to happen in the Black Prison.

Some people said that the Xianqin Hunting Group ambushed the teams on the Mist some time ago and captured four or five captain-level quasi-big demons, which may cause a new war between wizards and demons;

One of the most widespread and reliable theories is that the old tree in the depths of the Black Prison Castle is about to bear fruit. It is said that the old tree grew up with the flesh and blood of demons, and its fruit can help demons transform their bloodlines.

That's why more and more scarlet eyeballs have been gathering around the Black Prison Castle lately.

Although the Black Prison is called 'Hell', it would be more accurate to say 'Black Domain', because it is a world that is always under the cover of night. There is no sun, no starlight, no natural creature can survive in this environment.

The wizards enveloped the world with a huge magic circle, isolating the inside and outside, and then threw all the captured demons into the world, leaving them to struggle in this desert hell.

Of course, there is a certain risk of letting those demons run rally in this world.

In order to avoid those unlikely risks, wizards have established a number of strongholds in the Black Prison, the largest and most central of which is known as the Black Prison Castle.

Henry Eric was one of the registrars at the entrance to the castle.

Because there is more than one entrance to the Black Prison Castle, there is an entrance to the detention place of the Supreme Court of Dan Hag upwards, an entrance to the First University, and an entrance to the outside of the Black Prison World.

Eric guards the smallest of the Black Prison Castles, and it is also an entrance to the Black Prison.

The entrance is only open to visitors at the registered wizard level and below - having said that, Eric has never seen guests below the registered wizard level visit this dangerous world.

So this entrance can be regarded as an entrance for registered wizards.

Click, click.

Footsteps outside the door were getting closer.

Henry Eric rubbed his swollen face from sleeping on his stomach, trying to pull out a kind smile. Then he looked down at the furnishings on his desk.

Diagonally in front of the register, his seventeenth-century Venetian bound book was opened silently and without wind. The five aggregate exorcism spells on the title page shimmer in the dim candlelight.

Eric glanced at the mesmerizing colors and tapped his fingers on the tabletop.

Knock knock.

A worn-out quill fell off the pen holder in panic like a bird that had just been awakened, jumped into the inkwell next to it, dipped it, and then hung in the air expectantly, as if trying to cover up the dereliction of duty a moment ago with this attitude of hard work.

Eric didn't pay attention to the holistic quill.

He tilted his ears and listened carefully for the footsteps outside the door.

Click, click.

There was a hint of tiredness and heaviness in the footsteps. It seems to be a hunting party that has just finished patrolling. It's just that under normal circumstances, a hunting team should have five hunters, which means that there should be five footsteps.

But right now, he only heard four footsteps.

The trainee registrar begins to imagine in his mind a fierce battle, a group of grieving hunters, and a hunting party returning to the castle with the remains of their comrades.

Two of the heavier steps should be witches, and two lighter feet should be witches.

Not knowing who the 'dead' hunter was - Eric tried to squeeze a trace of sadness out of his face, which was a little difficult, so he tried to keep a straight face - this game of guessing identity was one of the few pleasures that the young trainee registrar had in the dull life of this prison.

After guessing, he touched the crystal ball next to the magic book.

The crystal ball was silent for a moment, shimmering a dark red. The trainee registrar had a disappointed look on his face. The divination results showed that his guess was not satisfactory.

Crunch!

The heavy iron door was pushed open from the outside, making an unpleasant noise.

The Knocker and the Door God on the Iron Gate had long been accustomed to the sound, and even enjoyed it a little, but the young wizard who had just arrived had a hard time standing the noise. It's like someone scratching a blackboard with a fingernail, or scraping glass with wire, and it's easy to drive wizards crazy if you hear too much.

On more than one occasion, he proposed improvements to the Black Prison authorities, such as putting some lubricant on the hinges or carving two light talismans on the iron door, but nothing was heard.

Later, at lunch, he complained to his colleagues about this, and the old wizard who had worked in the black prison for a long time told him with a smile that no gate in the prison would be oiled, and that the noise would be kept in order to keep everyone in and out of sight.

Crunch...... Click, click, click.

Four figures in broad cloaks walked in through the iron gates, with the heavy black shadows outside the castle at their feet.

The leader was a tall male wizard, with a dark red face and a strong body, who seemed to be holding something in his arms, but because of the cloak, he couldn't see clearly.

She was followed by a tall witch with her eyes closed and light on her feet, and half a body behind her was another slender male wizard with a black robe and a long sword under her cloak.

The probationary registrar finally knew what he had done wrong.

Not all light-footed wizards are witches, and it is also possible that wizards who take the agile route.

At the end of the group was a dwarf, bareheaded, with a tousled beard, not tall, but with the heaviest steps in the group, even surpassing the wizard at the head of the group.