Chapter 77: Movements from All Sides, Erica Floyd

The brief prayer ended.

Colin muttered under his breath, “I’ve got to hurry.”

He crouched down and quickly searched the clothes of the Centipede-faced Man.

His fingers soon touched a string of cold cell keys hanging from the man’s belt.

Colin deftly unfastened the key ring.

Then he noticed several heavy stones piled up in the corner—those used for the water torture.

Without hesitation,

he tore off the Centipede-faced Man’s outer garment, wrapped the stones in it, and tied them tightly to the corpse.

As he dragged it, the chains clattered noisily.

Fortunately, this level of the dungeon seemed unpatrolled for now.

Gritting his teeth, Colin shoved the heavy body into the dark, murky water tank nearby.

With a muffled plop, ripples spread out and slowly faded into stillness.

“Hopefully this will buy me a little time.”

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and peered through the crack of the cell door.

The corridor was deep and shadowy, the torches on the walls flickering faintly.

Two guards were dozing at the end of the passage.

From farther away came rhythmic footsteps—

indicating that at least another patrol squad was moving around the upper floor.

Colin’s expression darkened.

The prison’s defenses were not weak; a direct assault would almost certainly alert the enemy.

And if the Centipede-faced Man stayed away too long, someone would surely be sent to check.

Time was running out…

Colin drew in a deep breath, his eyes hardening with resolve.

“I’ll have to gamble!”

He slipped silently out of the interrogation chamber.

Carefully, he crept toward the two sleeping guards.

A faint glow shimmered in his palm.

A swift chop struck one on the back of the neck—the man slumped instantly.

The other awoke with a start, but Colin clamped a hand over his mouth and whispered, “Sleep.”

Holy Light rippled softly.

The guard’s eyes rolled back as he fell unconscious.

“May the Holy Light forgive you.”

Colin dragged them into the shadows, then turned toward the nearest cell.

The lock clicked open.

Inside, a huddled figure jerked its head up—clouded eyes full of suspicion.

“Who are you?”

“If you want to live, follow me!”

Colin spoke tersely, moving to unlock the next cell.

One by one, prisoners crawled out—thin, pale, their shackles clinking.

Some looked around in confusion; others shrank back into corners.

A few glared at Colin warily.

“You from Servan’s men?”

A burly, bare-chested man barked the question.

“I’m the one here to take Servan’s life.”

Colin didn’t even glance back as he kept unlocking doors.

“There aren’t many guards outside. If we rush out together, there’s still a chance.”

“Stay here, and you’ll be tortured to death sooner or later!”

The bare-chested man spat. “Easy for you to say! Last time we tried that, more than ten died!”

“That was because no one led them.”

Colin turned, his calm gaze sweeping over the crowd. “Now, you have me.”

“I am a Priest of Holy Light, and the Angel watches over us.”

He raised his hand, revealing a gentle golden radiance.

It lit up their wary, bewildered faces.

“Believe it or not, that’s up to you.”

“But the door is already open.”

“So—will you die here like rats in a dungeon, or fight one more time?”

The crowd began to stir.

Suddenly, a small, thin man darted out toward the stairs, shouting, “I’ve had enough! Dead either way—might as well fight!!”

With someone taking the lead, the hesitant prisoners started to move.

The bare-chested man stomped his foot. “Damn it! I’ll take that bet!”

He tore off his shackles and roared, “Any of you still breathing, move! Run with me!”

“There’s no way they can kill us all!!”

Chaos spread.

Cell doors burst open one after another as prisoners flooded into the corridor.

And amidst the chaos, Colin’s heart pounded furiously.

The plan was working.

This turmoil was his best cover.

But he had to use this chance to find a way out—otherwise, he’d only die with the rest of them…

Underground Black Market.

Inside a hidden stronghold.

“Are you sure it was Servan’s men who captured Colin?”

Rathead shrank back into the shadows, coughing twice. “A hundred percent sure!”

“The prison’s in the Blood Anchor Cellar, over in the Old Dock District.”

“Looks like a seafood warehouse on the surface, but underneath—it’s full of Servan’s private soldiers!”

“And I’ve got an old flame who does laundry there. She said they brought in someone yesterday wearing a priest’s robe.”

“How’s the defense?” Daniels asked quickly.

“Tight as hell!”

“Guards everywhere—open and hidden posts both. Forcing our way in would be suicide.”

Rathead gave a bitter smile. “Old Dan, this mess is way too risky. Maybe we should think of another way?”

Daniels stayed silent for a moment.

He pulled a scroll of parchment from his chest. “I’m not that reckless. I’m not barging in head-on. I’m going to ask Baroness Erica for help.”

“That woman trapped in her castle? She can barely protect herself!”

“Besides, didn’t you say before that you weren’t sure you could earn her trust?”

“That’s exactly why I’m gambling on her being smart enough.”

Daniels unfurled the parchment.

It was the forged document he had prepared before leaving Oak Town!

Stamped with the crest of Earl Ladd—one that Gregor had forged.

“I’ll have her stage an assault on the prison to draw away some of Servan’s troops.”

“She won’t need to fight for real—just make some noise so I can slip in and rescue him.”

Rathead narrowed his eyes. “That’s tough.”

“How are you going to deliver the message? Not even a fly can get into that castle.”

Daniels lowered his voice. “Didn’t you say the castle has a dung cart leaving through the side gate every day—and the carter’s a drunk old man?”

“We’ll give him extra coin to slip the letter in with the garbage.”

Rathead thought for a moment, then nodded helplessly.

The plan was clearly rushed, but with time pressing, they had no other choice.

Morning came.

Daniels crouched in a foul-smelling alleyway,

stuffed the sealed letter into the trembling hands of an old man.

“Remember—give it to a maid or leave it at the study door. The money’s enough to keep you drunk for three years!”

The old man clutched the coins and nodded frantically.

But before noon,

Rathead burst into the shack, tumbling over himself. “It’s bad!!”

“That stupid old fool got caught!!”

Daniels, however, remained calm. “It’s fine. I expected this.”

“Getting caught doesn’t matter—as long as the letter reaches Baroness Erica’s hands.”

……

Lemon Port – Lord’s Castle.

Top-floor study.

Erica Floyd lounged sideways in a velvet armchair.

Her slender, pale fingers toyed with the rough letter.

Sunlight filtered through the stained glass,

casting dappled light across her wine-red curls.

She read slowly, the corner of her lips faintly curling.

Not far from her feet,

the dung-cart driver was kneeling on the floor, shaking like a leaf.

“Mercy, my Lady! Mercy!!”

“They—they just told me to deliver a letter… I don’t know anything else!!!”

Erica waved her hand lightly.

The guards dragged the sobbing old man away, and silence returned to the study.

“Earl Ladd’s men?”

She chuckled softly. “At least they know how to pick a cover story.”

From the shadows,

a black-clad figure appeared soundlessly. “My Lady, shall we verify the authenticity of the document?”

“No need. Whether it’s real or fake doesn’t matter—the content of the letter does.”

“They want me to stage an assault on the Blood Anchor Cellar to rescue a Priest named Colin.”

Erica tossed the letter onto the desk and rose to the window.

Looking down, she could faintly see Servan’s patrols circling the castle square.

“Have we confirmed why Servan captured the priest?”

The black-clad man bowed. “According to the testimony of Captain Lawson of Guard Squad Seven, the Priest Colin claimed he could cure the parasitic plague.”

“And it seems Servan wants to monopolize that ability—to turn the tide.”

“Colin…” Erica murmured. “Isn’t that the same name as the Angel Priest that Old John from Oak Town bragged about?”

“Yes.”

“Rumor says he summoned a true miracle during the Undead Legion’s attack.”

“And because of that, Baron Old John achieved that unbelievable victory.”

Erica turned, a sharp glint flashing in her eyes. “So Servan is getting desperate.”

“He used finding the plague’s source first to suppress me temporarily.”

“But the merchants and commoners still stand with me.”

“If Colin truly can eradicate the plague, and Servan controls him, then he’ll hold the real power to overturn everything…”

She paused briefly, then shook her head.

“But we can’t save him now.”

The black-clad man was stunned. “Why not? With such an ally—”

“Ally?” Erica interrupted.

“If Colin truly is blessed by the Divine, and he can’t even escape a small dungeon, what kind of ally is that?”

“More importantly, once the plague is purged on a large scale, the entity behind the Undead will never sit idly by!”

“Right now, Servan and I restrain each other—that’s the only reason the Undead remain still. They want us to wear each other down so they can reap the spoils.”

“But if that balance is broken, Lemon Port will turn into another Maple Leaf Town overnight!”

Erica walked toward the map before her.

A sharp, commanding aura radiated from her.

“My enemy has never been that talentless fool, Servan!”

“Tell all our covert agents to stand down and maintain the illusion that I’m at a disadvantage.”

“As for that Priest… let him prove himself~”

The black-clad man bowed and vanished.

Erica stood alone by the window, murmuring softly, “Priest Colin.”

“Let me see just how powerful your Angel truly is…”

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