Southern Continent, East Balam.
"Ugh..."
"Where... am I?"
After spending several days unconscious because of his injuries and various other factors, Alfred struggled to open his eyes.
Exhaustion.
That was the first thing he felt upon waking.
His head was foggy and heavy as lead. Every breath brought a dull, tearing pain through his chest.
This was definitely not something a Sequence 5 Disciplinary Paladin should experience. Even after a life-or-death battle, his Beyonder constitution should never have left him as weak as an ordinary person on the verge of death after sleeping for so long.
Alfred realized that someone seemed to have tampered with his body. Not only could he muster no strength, but his spirituality was also a stagnant pool, leaving him completely unable to use his Beyonder abilities.
Moreover, when he struggled to sit up, a sharp metallic clatter made him realize that both his hands and feet were tightly shackled.
As his initial bewilderment gradually faded, the memories from before he lost consciousness flooded back.
That's right. It was a trap!
Someone set me up.
Alfred turned his head to examine his surroundings.
He found himself in an extremely cramped cell. Hard, damp stone walls surrounded him, with only a narrow slit near the ceiling for ventilation. Apart from a crude wooden bed and a battered little wooden table, the room contained nothing.
"You're awake, Colonel."
Apparently alerted by the movement inside, someone pushed open the heavy iron door.
A dark-skinned man wearing standard local Southern Continent clothing walked in with a wooden bowl.
A strong, pungent smell, mingled with various unknown spices, instantly filled the cramped room.
"A bowl of hot soup. It might help your condition." The local man placed the soup on the little wooden table beside him and spoke in an even