Angel glanced at the threatened Transcendents. They were basically first- or second-level apprentices, and most were already in the twilight of their years. If they truly had anything valuable on them, they would not still be lingering at this level when the oil in their lamps had run dry.
That was indeed the case. Even though the fat guard kept brandishing his spiked club in threat, even beating several of them until they bled, he only managed to get a few trifles of little use from them.
It looked like quite a pile, but its total value might not even amount to a single magic crystal.
Still, the fat guard did not care. The Transcendents in the prison came in batches and left in batches, replaced with remarkable frequency. Prisoners flowed like water, while he stood firm as iron. So long as he held fast to his post as a guard, once a few more batches of Transcendents came through, even if he only got a few scraps each time, little by little, they would add up.
Although he had only extorted some unimportant trinkets this time, the fat guard seemed to be in quite a good mood. Humming some filthy little tune he had learned who knew where, he prepared to continue his "inspection" down the next corridor.
Angel followed behind him.
It was not that he deliberately wanted to travel with him. There was simply only one path ahead. The corridors here ran one after another, with no branching paths in between.
The fat guard took out his key and opened the gate to a new corridor. The moment he entered it, his expression began to change. There was indignation mingled with unwillingness on his face.
Under that expression, his teeth began grinding back and forth, producing a