Read Novel Full Chapter 800 - 16: Dungeon
Chapter 800: Chapter 16: Dungeon
His gray eyes flashed with sharpness, his brows slightly furrowed, as he asked, his voice deeper than before, "Are you sure... it’s the Tavendish family?"
The boss was intimidated by the slight aura he unconsciously emitted, and nodded instinctively, his tone more affirmative, "I heard those Knight Masters saying so, it should be the right name."
He seemed eager to end this topic quickly, raised his hand and pointed in the direction of the town, "If you’re really interested in this, tomorrow morning, you can see it at the square at the town’s entrance. The Church’s Priest will be there to administer the fire..."
Before the word "execution" could exit his mouth, the boss’s voice abruptly stopped.
Because before his eyes, the distinctive outsider sitting at the bar, in the instant his words were still hanging, vanished completely like smoke blown away by the wind!
The stool he sat on didn’t even wobble, and the glass of water remained quietly in place, the surface unperturbed.
"Hey? Where... where’s the person?" The boss blinked hard, looking blankly at the empty chair and bar, his face full of shock and disbelief. He even doubted if his eyes were playing tricks on him.
Yet, before he could ponder over this bizarre situation, or feel fear, an intangible but immense force silently engulfed his consciousness.
He felt as if his thoughts were gently erased by a firm and gentle hand, everything that just happened—
That outsider, the Gold Coin, the conversation about the Wizard, even the startling scene of the abrupt disappearance—all related memories, like pencil marks erased by an eraser, swiftly blurred and were completely stripped away from his mind, gone.
Instinctively, he scratched his unruly hair, leaving only pure confusion on his face, looking around blankly: "Did I just... talk to someone here?"
His mind was empty, just a blank space. He tried hard to recall but couldn’t remember anything, as if a chunk of time had been excavated out of thin air.
After a moment of daze, he could only shake his head, attributing this strange feeling to reality, muttering a complaint in a low voice:
"Tsk... Days without alcohol, really make the brain useless, only bringing these inexplicable hallucinations..."
...
River Town, Freemasonry Church.
Due to the detention of an important "heretic"—a Witch, the entire church area was under strict vigilance recently. The hefty oak doors were shut tight, and the believers who usually came to pray could only conduct their rituals in the outer square.
Around the main building of the church, one could see the patrolling Libra Knight Squad, their armor distinct, eyes vigilant, a killing atmosphere starkly contrasting the solemn and peaceful religious venue of the past.
When Lynch’s figure appeared on the stone path leading to the main building of the church, it immediately caught the guards’ attention. Before he could approach the steps, two fully armed Libra Knights quickly came over, their right hands already on their sword hilts, one of them stopping him with a stern and cold voice:
"Halt! Didn’t you see the notice? The church interior is forbidden for entry recently! If you want to pray, go to the front square!"
Lynch halted his steps, his gaze calmly sweeping over the two knights, his voice gentle, yet possessing an undeniable penetrating force:
"I’m not here to pray." He paused, then stated clearly, "I just heard that there’s a Wizard imprisoned in the dungeon here. That might be an old friend of mine, and I need to meet them."
The content of his words was simply too unbelievable, causing the two knights to visibly pause, the lead one even failing to immediately grasp the meaning—breaking into a church under lockdown, and openly claiming to see the imprisoned Witch? That was like walking into a trap!
However, just at their moment of distraction, a vast yet fine spiritual power had silently and seamlessly infiltrated deep into their consciousness. This force gentle yet absolute, wiped away all their doubts, vigilance, and intentions of executing orders, like a warm tide brushing over a sandy beach.
In a flash, the sharp glint in the two knights’ eyes vanished, replaced by a hollow compliance. The hands clasping the sword hilts also relaxed, naturally dropping to their sides.
Lynch watched them, as if stating a predetermined fact, and continued saying:
"Then, take me to the dungeon now."
The lead knight’s face was devoid of any expression, like a puppet controlled by strings, responding in a flat and almost wooden voice:
"Yes, sir. Please follow me, I will take you to the dungeon."
After speaking, he mechanically turned around, walking with slightly stiff steps to lead the way for Lynch. Another knight followed silently, like a shadow, at their side and rear. The three of them thus proceeded unimpeded towards the tightly closed church door that symbolized authority and strict defense.
Led by the two expressionless knights, Lynch smoothly passed through the heavy oak door and stepped into the interior of the church under martial law.
The sight inside the church was even more austere than outside. Under the towering dome, the space that once echoed with holy songs and prayers now reverberated only with the crisp clatter of metal soles on stone slabs and the subtle rustling of leather armor. Through the corridors and under the arches, fully armed Libra Knights patrolled back and forth, their sharp gazes sweeping over every corner like hawks.
These patrolling knights naturally noticed Lynch’s unfamiliar face. He was neither a church priest nor a familiar local believer, standing out starkly in this core area under lockdown. Several squads instinctively slowed their steps, hands resting on their sword hilts, eyes filled with alertness and scrutiny.
However, when they saw the two colleagues walking ahead of Lynch, leading the way, much of their vigilance turned into slight confusion, yet they did not step forward to stop him. Thus, Lynch remarkably traversed without any substantial questioning, as if walking through an invisible seam.
Passing smoothly through several cold corridors, Lynch followed the knights down a descending staircase, dimly lit by mounted oil lamps on the walls, finally reaching the dungeon located beneath the church.
The air inside the dungeon was murky, filled with the scent of mildew, blood, and a faint, elusive fear. On both sides were prison cells separated by thick iron bars, mostly vacant.
At the deepest part of the dungeon, there was a specially isolated single cell. This cell was particularly conspicuous, not only because it was made of sturdier black iron flickering with faint demon-breaking runes, but also because the atmosphere around it was unusually heavy.
No less than a dozen fully armed Libra Knights stood solemnly like sculptures, guarding the cell tightly. Their gazes, like invisible chains, locked firmly onto the interior of the cell.
Even more striking was the circular magic array on the floor in front of the cell, drawn in dark red paint and some metallic powder. The magic array was elaborate and intricate, with obscure waves of energy flowing between the lines.
Lynch merely glanced at it casually and instantly recognized—it was a magic array specifically for suppressing magic power, rated 1 Ring Advanced. Unless a wizard was at the Mystical Level or above, any spellcaster within the range of this magic array would have their magic power greatly suppressed, if not rendered completely ineffective, as if they were an ordinary person.
At this moment, among the guarding knights, a man with a special insignia on his shoulder armor, indicating a captain’s status, noticed that the two gatekeeping comrades had brought a stranger to the dungeon’s depths. He immediately strode forward, frowning tightly, and harshly demanded:
"Hans, Carl! Why aren’t you at the gate above, leaving your posts to come to the dungeon?!" His gaze then turned as sharp as a blade towards Lynch, filled with scrutiny and unabashed suspicion, "And this person you’ve brought... who is he?!"
As the knight captain’s harsh questioning voice trailed off, the last syllable still resonating in the cold air, it abruptly stopped as if gripped by an invisible giant hand at the throat.
It wasn’t that the sound disappeared, but rather that time itself, which carried the sound, came to a halt.
An invisible, vast power swept out from Lynch’s center, instantly enveloping the entire dungeon. All the colors in sight—the gleam of the knights’ silver armor, the torch’s flickering orange-red on the walls, the somber blood-red of the floor’s magic array—were ruthlessly stripped away in an instant, rendering everything into a dead grayish-white.
Everything fell into absolute suspension.
The knight captain’s expression of sternness and suspicion froze on his face, with his outstretched finger halted mid-air; the surrounding guards stood like statues, unable to even shift their gaze; the dust floating in the air froze in place; even the flames flickering atop the torches turned into clusters of solidified, cold gray crystals.
In this world of stagnated gray and white, only Lynch remained vibrant with color. His dark green wizard robe still swayed gently with an imperceptible flow of energy, his gray eyes shimmering with calm light.
Seemingly indifferent to the frozen scenery around him, he walked leisurely through the motionless "statue" group of knights, as if strolling through an eerie gallery. He headed straight to the closely guarded single cell, reaching out to push the tightly closed black iron door engraved with demon-breaking runes.
At the moment his palm touched the cell door, the 1 Ring Advanced suppressing magic array on the floor seemed to sense the intrusion of an external force, and the runes flickered in response, trying to initiate their suppressive effect.
However, this struggle was as feeble as a firefly against the bright moon.
Lynch didn’t even glance at it. Merely by the natural emanation of his dense and solid spiritual field, surpassing the Secret Skill Level, brushing past it, the runes of the magic array twisted, dimmed, and collapsed like a sand painting swept by a fierce wind, turning into meaningless powder traces on the ground, unable to produce any effect.
"Creak—"
The heavy black iron cell door was easily pushed open, with minimal sound.
Lynch stepped into the interior of the cell.
His gaze passed through the dimness of the cell, landing precisely on the innermost corner.
There, beneath the cold, rough stone wall, a figure lay curled up.