Zephlin's pupils trembled, but his throat had gone rigid. He couldn't get a single word out.
Reason told him he should distance himself from Felix at once, make his position clear, and do everything he could to prove to Lord Meshal that he had absolutely nothing to do with him.
But whenever the words rose to his lips, they got stuck there.
He looked at Felix, held up by several True Born warriors. His body was covered in the marks of torture, with barely a patch of unbroken skin.
Felix was in a terrible state, yet his eyes remained so bright, so dazzling that Zephlin felt too guilty to meet his gaze.
"Zephlin!"
Suddenly, an angry growl like a peal of thunder dragged Zephlin back to cruel reality.
It was Meshal.
The Grand Arbiter of the Iron Thorn Conspiracy Group looked terrifyingly grim. His eyes seemed to conceal blades, making anyone who met them shudder.
"I-I'm here..." Zephlin stammered. His clenched fist was slick with sweat, but he couldn't help recalling what Felix had said when the two of them met the night before.
Seeing him like this, Meshal took another step forward and stared straight at him with keen, hawk-like eyes.
"Advisor Zephlin, answer my question!"
His voice suddenly rose, laced with murderous intent that pierced Zephlin's heart like a blade.
"I think... he should..." Zephlin bit down hard on his lip, his eyes nearly bulging from their sockets. He lowered his head, unable to look at Felix, and spoke as though it took every last ounce of strength he had. "Anyone who dares betray the Kabal must... must be put to death!"
He thought that answer would satisfy Meshal.
But Meshal remained unsatisfied and said coldly, "That's not what I want to hear, Advisor Zephlin."
Zephlin knew exactly