Chapter 7: Someone Escaped!

Chapter 7: Someone Escapes!

Aether picked up the quill and said, "Now, I've got a few questions."

"I'll tell you everything I know!"

"Do you know why you were arrested?"

Lyman picked his words carefully. "The Paladins said that I was colluding with a cult."

Hey, that's what the Paladins said, not Lyman. So it wasn't a lie.

Aether shot a glance at the Lion Statue, which hadn't budged an inch, and continued, "But you're sticking to your story that you're innocent? You're not one of them?"

If he flat-out said "I'm not a cult member," the statue might call it a lie. First, Lyman himself wasn't sure what his original identity was—he could've been some big shot in the cult. Second, he had already activated the Book of the Evil God and recruited a believer, which technically meant he'd "founded a cult," so yeah, he was definitely a "cult member."

Lyman's brain went into overdrive. "As far as I can remember, I don't know them."

His memory really didn't have that part—by the time he'd transmigrated, every last cultist was already dead!

Aether grabbed a file and waved it in Lyman's face.

"The captain of the Sixth Squad, Second Legion of the Dawnlight Knights—the guy who arrested you—reported that they raided the cult's hideout and found you there. You were dressed just like the cultists."

He fixed Lyman with a hard stare. "If you weren't one of them, what were you doing there, dressed like them?"

Good question. I'd like to know the answer myself.

"Sir, I know how this sounds, but I honestly don't know. I just woke up and there I was."

Aether snorted, neither believing nor dismissing it, and scribbled something with his quill.

"So where were you before that? What did you do for a living? Who's your family? Where did you live?"

Obviously, he couldn't just blurt out that he was from Earth! Even though it was the truth, the Inquisitor might slap a "heresy from the heavens" label on him and off him on the spot.

But if the Q&A went any deeper, it was bound to dig into "Layman Vichard's" past. If he couldn't answer, wouldn't that look super suspicious?

Was there a way to dodge the transmigrator question while also shaking off the cult connection?

The go-to move for any transmigrator trying to dodge an interrogation? Fake amnesia!

But Lyman hadn't lost his Earth memories—he just never got the original body's memories in the first place.

If he just said "I've got amnesia," the statue might flag it as a lie...

His next answer had to be extremely careful.

Lyman pondered for a moment and said cautiously, "I only remember the name 'Layman Vichard.' As for who he was before, or what he did, I've got absolutely no clue."

And that was the honest truth! What Layman Vichard did in his past life had nothing to do with me, a guy from Earth!

The Lion Statue still didn't move a muscle.

Seeing Aether still had doubts, Lyman decided to pull out his biggest weapon—sincerity.

"Lord Inquisitor," he said, his face a mix of confusion, fear, and grief, "would you call this... amnesia?"

"Amnesia?" Aether set down his quill, his blue eyes scrutinizing Lyman. "If you're trying to play dumb to weasel your way out of this, let me tell you, that trick won't fly with me."

"I'm not playing dumb! A hard knock to the head can legitimately cause amnesia. I woke up on the battlefield—maybe I got clocked in the head? But no doctor's checked me out, so I can't be sure..."

The Lion Statue's mouth was still hanging wide open.

Success! Lyman hadn't flat-out claimed amnesia; he'd just nudged the Inquisitor toward that conclusion with a few questions and guesses.

Now it was Aether's turn to be baffled. His eyes kept darting between the prisoner and the statue.

The prisoner claiming amnesia sounded exactly like some crook trying to dodge the consequences. But the relic hadn't so much as twitched...

What was wrong here?

He stared hard at Lyman, hunting for any crack in his eyes or expression.

Lyman looked pathetic, but his eyes were pure, his face sincere—no guilt, no bravado, nothing like a typical criminal. Hell, he didn't even have the little subconscious tells of a liar!

Could he actually be innocent? Had those muscle-headed Dawnlight Knights grabbed the wrong guy?

Come to think of it, they'd definitely grabbed random civilians to hit their quotas before, and there'd even been cases of killing innocents to pad their records. Could this be another case where they'd wiped out all the cultists, then, scared the tribunal would come sniffing around, grabbed some poor schmuck to take the fall?

What a clown show! How was anyone supposed to run a proper church with these incompetents around?

While the Inquisitor sized up Lyman, Lyman sized him right back.

The Inquisitor was clearly starting to crack.

Now, all he needed was one little nudge to tip the scales his way.

This Inquisitor was clearly a true believer. And religious folks, when they meet someone just as devout, always drop their guard and feel a kind of kinship.

If he were also a follower of the God of Dawn, raised on the faith's teachings, what would he do if he lost his memory and got accused of cult ties?

A normal person would argue like crazy, fighting to prove they're innocent. But a humble, devout believer touched by the divine? They'd do something different.

So the play was to retreat in order to advance—do the exact opposite!

You're devout? I'm even more devout! You're humble? I'm even humbler!

Lyman sniffled and said in a mournful voice, "Lord Inquisitor, maybe you should just throw me in a cell."

Aether raised an eyebrow. "In all my years as an Inquisitor, I've never heard a request that weird."

"If I truly did collude with a cult but don't remember it, then... then lock me up! Sinners deserve punishment!"

Tears welled up in Lyman's eyes, his expression one of ready sacrifice. "And I'm afraid that once my memory returns, I might hurt others. As long as I'm locked up, I can't harm society anymore. I... I don't want to do bad things! Please, let me atone!"

As he wiped his tears, he peeked at Aether through his fingers.

From the other's reaction, he knew he had won this round.

The Inquisitor scribbled furiously, muttering under his breath. Lyman caught only fragments: "waste of time," "Grand Master," and "complaint." It seemed the knights who had captured Lyman were in for trouble.

Aether jabbed the quill back into the inkwell, not even bothering with the ink on his fingers.

"I'll write a detailed report to the Chief Inquisitor," he said. "You'll need to stay at Cape Prison a while longer. But soon enough, you should be able to..."

Boom—!

A deafening roar erupted from beneath their feet. The entire tower trembled. Dust rained down, and the tapestry over the fireplace swayed violently.

An earthquake? At a time like this?

Aether's brow furrowed as he shot to his feet. He waited a few seconds, and when the tower did not shake again, he gripped the sword hilt at his waist and strode quickly to the door.

"What's going on?" he demanded sharply, pushing the door open.

"Report! I'm not sure! I'll go investigate at once!" Deputy Captain Edton, posted outside the door, answered in a booming voice.

His footsteps quickly receded. Aether closed the door, and the next moment, the tower shook again, nearly knocking the Inquisitor off balance.

"Could it be an earthquake?"

If that were the case, staying inside was asking for death. Aether pushed the door open and peeked out. He was about to step out when he remembered the prisoner, so he turned back and said, "Come with me!"

Lyman poked his head out from under the desk, looking around cautiously. "Where to?"

"When... when the hell did you crawl under there?!"

Aether grabbed Lyman by the scruff of the neck and hauled him up, so he couldn't slip away in the chaos.

Aether dragged Lyman down the stairs. They didn't cross the drawbridge back to the main prison building—probably because the Inquisitor was worried it might collapse—but instead took the stairs down to the tower's base and headed toward the prison's front square.

Along the way, the ground shook several more times, each tremor accompanied by the thunderous crash of something giving way. In the distance, shouts grew louder, and the closer they got to the square, the more deafening they became.

Deputy Captain Edton came stumbling over, his helmet knocked crooked.

"Report!" He snapped a salute, then frantically straightened his helmet. "Good news, sir! It's not an earthquake!"

"Then what the hell is it?!" Aether barked.

"Bad news, sir! A prisoner is trying to break out!"

Aether frowned, and the cold look in his eyes made the deputy captain shiver.

"Isn't Cape Prison supposed to be the Holy Nation's most secure prison or what?"

The deputy captain was shaking, looking like he was about to burst into tears. He'd done everything he could to make a good impression on this Senior Inquisitor, and now it was all shot to hell.

"Report! That prisoner suddenly awakened a s-supernatural ability! We're trying to take him down!"

Aether shoved him aside without a second thought and dragged Lyman toward the square. The deputy captain trailed behind, looking like he'd just lost his best friend.

The square was already in total chaos, with screams ringing out nonstop.

A bald, hulking man in a gray prison uniform let out a roar as he charged the prison gates. He was already tall and broad-shouldered, but now his arms were bulging with swollen muscles, warping the black tattoos on his skin, and broken shackles dangled from his wrists.

He grabbed an armored guard about his size and hurled him aside as easily as if he were tossing a sack of potatoes. The flying guard slammed into a crowd of his colleagues rushing in, and they all went down like bowling pins.

"That's him, sir!" the deputy captain shrieked, pointing at the bald giant. "He suddenly awakened some kind of 'super strength' ability! Don't worry, we'll take him down and put him to death right here!"

But the fight didn't look like it was going their way.

Several guards circled him with spears. The bald giant snatched a spear, snapped it in two with his bare hands, then kicked out hard. The guard flew back, hit the wall, and left a guard-shaped hole in it.

Now Lyman got why the tower had been shaking.

Charging in head-on like that—this guy had guts, and Lyman couldn't help secretly giving him a thumbs-up. But... it was way too reckless.

The guards had him massively outnumbered. Could he really take them all on by himself? Even with his awakened ability? And even if he did break out of prison, there was still the ocean in his way—where was he gonna find a ship?

He should've kept his head down and played it smart!

Lyman slapped his chest and stomped his foot, wishing he could become a scheming advisor and cook up a solid plan for this brave guy.

Aether let out a cold snort and shoved Lyman toward the deputy captain.

"Watch him!" he ordered. "I'll deal with the escapee!"

He unsheathed his sword.

Lyman and the deputy captain both craned their necks at the same time, like two rubberneckers eager for a show, watching Aether with anticipation.

Was he really that confident he could take down a superhuman? Could it be that he was one too...?

Suddenly, a hand reached out from behind and gently nudged Aether's blade aside.

"What's all the racket about? Can't even get a decent sleep..."

A red-haired man shuffled forward, yawning as he walked.

He was about Aether's age, wearing the same white robe. But unlike the put-together Aether, his hair was a mess, his eyes were bleary, and his face was creased with pillow marks.

Based on his looks alone, he should've been a handsome man to rival Aether, but right now he looked more like a scruffy wild man.

"Nashel." Aether's brow furrowed even deeper, tight enough to crush a passing fly.

The red-haired man named Nashel stretched lazily and asked slowly, "What's going on?"

"Someone's trying to break out."

Nashel swept his gaze across the square and raised an eyebrow in surprise. "All these people together? Quite a sight!"

"Idiot! Can't you even tell guards from prisoners?"

"...So it's just one. Why didn't you say so? Got my hopes up for nothing."

Nashel walked down the stairs and pulled out from beneath his white robe... a sword hilt.

No blade, just the guard and grip. He lazily pointed it forward.

Aether suddenly tensed and shouted, "Get out of the way!"

The guards didn't even react. But Nashel made a swinging motion—

A fountain of blood burst from the bald giant's right shoulder, and his entire right arm separated from his body in an instant, as if severed by an invisible blade!

"Ahhh! My arm! Who took my arm—!"