Tales instinctively pushed the wheelchair. The surroundings blurred in the darkness, while the old man before him remained as clear as ever, inspiring dread.
Damn.
That was the first word that came to the boy's mind.
He stared gravely at Morat in the wheelchair, accidentally brushing against the Black Vein Vines and causing them to contract sharply.
Damn it.
Even after learning the truth about "mind reading," even after enduring six years of trials, even after believing he was fairly well prepared...
The Black Prophet was still the Black Prophet.
Even without clues or evidence, he could still follow the scent of deception and lies to sniff out the truth.
How had his father, his grandfather, and the rulers seated upon the highest throne dealt with this old monster?
How had they felt safe allowing such a venomous snake, such a sinister, shadowy figure from beginning to end, to hold an important post in their Imperial Council and command the intelligence network?
Tales gripped the wheelchair tightly.
But more importantly...
In that instant, everything in Bladefang Camp and Bone Prison flashed before Tales's eyes, whether it was Kuaishang, Sakrael, or Little Barney.
[You endured endless torment and escaped alive after suffering through countless hardships... It wasn't so you could trade it for another set of shackles...]
Those people...
The debts they carried, the suffering they had endured, the pain they had experienced...
Tales tensed the muscles in his arms.
"Your Highness?"
Morat still did not turn around, leaving Tales only the hollow, gaunt outline of the back of his head.
It stood in stark contrast to the endless gloom he had brought with him.
Tales slowly raised his head.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"What wanted criminals?"
No.
At that moment, the boy silently told himself, *No. I