You're Fia's Champion Too?

Irina began telling Edgar about everything she had gone through along the way.

Lucian did not disturb the father and daughter.

He walked up to the Confessor. The Confessor was tightly bound and still unconscious, with a soldier standing guard beside him.

The moment the soldier saw Lucian approach, he immediately dropped to one knee and saluted him, startling Lucian.

Looking closer, Lucian realized it was the youngest soldier.

"Huh? What are you doing?"

After finishing his salute, the soldier rose to his feet and excitedly began speaking to Lucian.

"The lord of the castle just told us everything that happened. He said we must treat you with respect."

"Even if the lord hadn't told us to, I would still respect you. You faced those beasts alone and avenged our fallen comrades. You're Castle Morne's hero!"

"If it weren't for you, we might never have witnessed the destruction of those beasts with our own eyes."

As he spoke more fervently, two streams of tears rolled down the soldier's face.

The faces of those who had died were still vivid in his mind. His family, his companions, his childhood sweetheart... everything in his life.

And now, they had all become mangled corpses, mixed together beyond recognition.

There were too few soldiers, and they were too weak. Forget purging the Misbegotten to avenge everyone—they might not even have been able to protect the few remaining residents.

Lucian remained silent, unaffected by the praise.

No matter how great the soldier made him sound, the dead would not come back.

He patted the soldier on the shoulder.

"I won't stay in Castle Morne forever. If you don't want this kind of tragedy to happen again, you need to grow stronger. Only then can you protect the people who matter."

"Next time, you'll have to take revenge yourselves."

The soldier wiped away his tears and nodded firmly.

"By the way, sir, are you going to interrogate this guy?"

"Do you need me to take you to the prison? There's an interrogation room there."

Lucian hurriedly waved his hand. What a joke—killing and interrogating were two different things.

Though Lucian had killed quite a few people since crossing over, and even rather enjoyed violent executions—

Interrogation, the specialized business of torturing people, was better left to professionals.

"No need. I just came to see whether he has any dangerous items on him."

In truth, Lucian had come to loot him.

This man's status seemed higher than that of the other Confessor Lucian had killed.

He carried all the important items on him. The Bewitching Branch and Flask of Crimson Tears were both good finds; if Lucian could pull out anything else valuable, he would strike it rich.

"Oh, I see. As expected, you've considered everything carefully."

The young soldier looked at Lucian with admiration. Not only was this man exceptionally brave, but he also considered hidden dangers. He was truly incredible.

Fortunately, Lucian did not know what the soldier was thinking. Otherwise, he would have been embarrassed. He merely wanted to pick up some loot.

The first thing he found was that black hand crossbow. It had ambushed Lucian twice and left a deep impression on him.

When he picked it up, its name appeared before his eyes—Crepus's Black-Key (Imitation).

Lucian was a little surprised. It was his first time seeing the suffix "(Imitation)."

Crepus was a person's name. Lucian remembered that he was the chief of the Confessors, the most skilled assassin in the Roundtable Hold. Several items related to him could be found in the game.

And Crepus's Black-Key was indeed a black crossbow, which should have been stored in the Roundtable Hold at this moment.

After some thought, Lucian guessed that the Confessors had copied Crepus's Black-Key to manufacture standard-issue crossbows.

The matching small quiver contained eight jet-black, barbed Ballista Bolts. They were imitations as well—Black-Key Stake (Imitation).

He hung the crossbow at the back of his waist and continued searching the Confessor.

The movement soon woke the unconscious Confessor.

Seeing Lucian alive and kicking before him, he knew his mission had completely failed.

He spat out broken teeth and bloody foam, then spoke flatly.

"Heh. Singh didn't kill you after all. And he called himself some Misbegotten Warrior. A beast is still a beast—there was never any point expecting more."

Lucian slapped him across the face, knocking out several more teeth.

"So the filthy rat hiding in the dark can talk too. Fascinating."

The Confessor glared at Lucian with hatred, then silently replaced it with what he believed was a kindly smile.

But with barely any teeth left, the smile looked rather hideous.

"We're both Tarnished. You know the Two Fingers, don't you? Help me carry out the Two Fingers' orders."

Lucian frowned. Why did everything these people said sound so alike?

And why did they always wait until they were nearly beaten to death before trying to recruit their opponent? What sane person would join them at a time like this?

Still, it was not entirely their fault. Once assassins like them were caught, they were basically doomed anyway.

They were not begging for mercy out of fear of death. They simply wanted to fulfill the Two Fingers' orders, no matter how despicable they had to be or how many people they had to recruit.

Seeing Lucian remain silent, the Confessor thought he had a chance and opened his mouth to continue coaxing him.

But something was suddenly shoved into his mouth, filling it completely.

It was nothing strange. It was merely Lucian's hand.

Knowing their tricks all too well, Lucian shoved his palm directly into the man's mouth.

Four fingers went inside, with his thumb outside. He gripped the Confessor's lower jaw and yanked down hard, dislocating it.

"Gahhh—!"

Saliva mixed with blood dripped continuously from the Confessor's mouth. His legs kicked wildly as muffled screams of pain came from his throat.

"Your companion already said everything you were about to say. Keep your mouth shut."

Lucian continued searching and quickly found the small pouch the Confessor carried.

Opening it, he found more good stuff inside.

A Bewitching Branch lay quietly in the pouch. Lucian somehow saw a trace of seductiveness in that Branch.

He shook his head, throwing away those strange thoughts. An Empyrean's things really were extraordinary. They distracted Lucian every time, so he had to treat them cautiously.

Setting aside the Bewitching Branch for now, Lucian found something else.

It was a type of pot that gave off a faint smell of blood. Two circular rings of mysterious markings were branded upon it, forming a pair of concentric circles—the mark of the Two Fingers.

The pot's type appeared before Lucian—Beast Lure Pot.

Lucian had rarely used this kind of pot. He vaguely remembered that it was used to lure beasts into attacking.

It seemed the Confessors had used this pot to heighten the Misbegotten's urge to attack, causing them to break free from Singh's control.

There was also a small, dreamlike medallion that emitted a hazy white glow. It was Baldachin's Blessing.

Lucian went numb. This guy was actually Fia's Champion too.

At this rate, he could run into Fia's Champion just by stepping outside to slaughter a Misbegotten.

There was nothing else after that—ordinary travel rations and several Crystal Knives.

After finishing the search, Lucian felt thoroughly refreshed. Looting enemies was an essential part of the Lands Between experience.

Damn, I can run into eight Fia's Champions just from picking up a rune. Please vote for recommendations at the start of the week, everyone. ∩_∩