Old

Tales could hardly believe his eyes.

Yordel, who had always hidden in the shadows and killed with a single strike...

Had been captured?

The Shadow Shields behind Fuse lit two torches, illuminating the small corridor.

Though he could not see Yordel's expression through the mask, his struggles were growing weaker and weaker.

Pulled in four directions by his limbs, his figure faded several times as he tried to enter the Shadow Path. But under the force of the chains, his attempts repeatedly failed, forcing him to reappear.

"Lurking, sowing discord, and profiting from the chaos—you've certainly had a pleasant time down here, dear colleague."

Fuse seemed to let out a sigh of relief. He revealed a slightly sinister smile as he looked at the masked guest he had invited with chains. "Perhaps you're rather disappointed that we didn't grant your wish and fight the Calamity Sword to the death under your curious provocation?"

In the gloomy, stifling Black Prison, Yordel did not answer. His dark-purple mask faced Fuse, who stood at least five paces away.

His silence made Fuse frown slightly as well.

This was bad.

Tales forced himself to calm down.

He clenched his teeth, bent his knees slightly, and raised the silver-drill longsword in his hand until it was level with his gaze.

There were not many two-handed sword forms in Northern Military Swordsmanship. Most were desperate counterattacks used only after one's shield had been shattered.

But now...

He gripped the sword with both hands and looked toward the nearest chain wielder.

If only he could force one of them back.

Tales summoned the Sin of the Hell River surging over his feet, preparing to exert his strength.

"Ah, no, no, no."

Fuse's sharp eyes did not miss this. He raised his brows and amiably lifted his index