Chapter 57: Imprisonment

The darkness was boundless, vast, and empty. Lucian drifted through it, staring blankly at his surroundings. Deep within him, an inexplicable force was shouting words he could barely make out, causing the darkness to churn violently, like the oppressive calm before a storm. Suddenly, inky-green vines rose from beneath Lucian's feet, coiling rapidly around his body. The protruding dark-red thorns were grotesque and terrifying, as if smeared with dried blood, releasing a sweet fragrance capable of paralyzing the human body. These bizarre vines moved so fast they left no gap for Lucian to escape. He struggled desperately, trying to cast Arcane Magic, only to discover that his spiritual power was completely depleted — not a single wisp remained to fuel any spell. The sharp dark-red thorns pierced into his body, and intense pain along with a numbing paralysis spread throughout him in an instant, forcing a scream from his lips just as Elvis's had been. As the searing pain surged through him, the darkness began to shatter. Beams of light broke through — bright and blinding. Lucian's head was groggy, and the brilliance before him made him squint involuntarily, but he immediately recalled that he had been struck by the Scarlet Demonic Tree's barrage of negative-state rays. He hadn't even had time to activate the Boots of Evasion to leap away before passing out. Those two dense rows of pitch-black eyes surfaced in his mind, and Lucian instinctively triggered the Short-Distance Teleport he had already constructed within his soul, preparing to dodge the Scarlet Demonic Tree's follow-up attack. Perhaps the Elemental Vortex he had used before losing consciousness had sustained him until he woke? And the vine assault in the darkness was a manifestation of his subconscious, compelling him to wake as soon as possible? But when he activated the Short-Distance Teleport, Lucian found his spiritual power as depleted as it had been in the dream — like a river with its muddy bottom exposed. "It's the aftereffect of using the Elemental Vortex beyond my tier!" Realization flashed through his mind, and he braced both hands to roll aside and dodge. Now that he had become a Second-level Knight, using the Elemental Vortex shouldn't drain his life force as severely as before — he'd needed someone just to help him walk! He had barely rolled once before he felt his body lift into the air. His eyes, now adjusted to the light, took in a small room with whitewashed walls. There were no inky-green and dark-red vines twisted together, no enormous sinister Scarlet Demonic Tree, no dense rows of pitch-black eyes! Thud — Lucian hit the ground with a muffled sound. A knight's body was tough and resilient, so he felt no pain. He hurriedly took stock of his surroundings. The room was narrow and bare — besides a wooden bed, there was only an open wooden chest, completely empty inside. "So clean, so spartan. Like a single-cell prison," Lucian muttered to himself in bewilderment. "Where exactly am I? Why am I here? Don't tell me I've transmigrated again?" Having experienced it once, Lucian couldn't help but wonder if the Scarlet Demonic Tree had killed him. But transmigration had always been one of his deepest secrets, so no matter how shocked or bewildered he was, the thought never escaped his lips. He raised both hands and saw the familiar slender, strong fingers. He touched his neck and felt the summoning mark. Lucian finally confirmed that he had not transmigrated, had not died — he still had a body, and it was still Lucian Evans's body. But this did not bring him any relief. Because on his wrists, without any explanation, appeared two black shackles radiating an eerie glow. And on his neck, as his fingers confirmed and his skin sensed, there was a tight-fitting collar. As for his Sun Crown, Fireweaver's Bracelet, Holm Crown Ring, Ice Avenger ring, Boots of Evasion, Shapeshifting Robe, Ogre Strength Gloves — every last item had vanished without a trace. From the strange patterns and shape of the black shackles, and the needle-like protrusions that had embedded themselves into his blood vessels, Lucian's expression grew grim: "These are Binding Shackles — they suppress bloodline power. The collar on my neck should be an Anti-Magic Collar. No wonder my spiritual power is even more depleted than when I used the Elemental Vortex before reaching the middle tier! What on earth happened?" Seeing that both his spiritual power and bloodline power were sealed, Lucian instinctively tried to enter the Soul Library, but within his soul there was no response whatsoever — as if some strange force had hidden and locked it away. "Could the Soul Library require spiritual power as a medium to open?" Lucian had never attempted to enter the Soul Library without spiritual power, so this was his logical deduction. Not one to give up easily, he continued trying to use the summoning mark on his neck, hoping to summon Rhein into his dream — Rhein's alias was "the Observer," and he should know the legends of the Dark Mountains' "Demon Land." Lucian now strongly suspected he had fallen into this very Demon Land and needed more intelligence, more information! Without bloodline power and without spiritual power, the summoning mark could not be activated. Lucian furrowed his brow — it felt as though he had returned to the feeble stage right after transmigrating, before he had learned any magic. "I have a normal human body, and my soul substance has been significantly enhanced and mutated. In terms of cognition and perception, I'm far superior to before. So I can't despair and give up — there's still hope! The most important thing right now is to gather intelligence about this place, so I can decide what to do next." Lucian quickly regained his composure. In truth, even if his soul had reverted to an ordinary state, Lucian could still maintain a healthy mental equilibrium and would not waver or hesitate. The unyielding, never-surrendered faith forged through so many tribulations was one of the most precious treasures in life. And the other treasure was the knowledge already within his grasp — such as his understanding of the alchemical structure and magic circle composition of Binding Shackles and Anti-Magic Collars! Lucian tugged on the iron door and found it locked from the outside. He returned to the bedside and sat down, intending to study the Binding Shackles. Just then, the crisp jingling of keys sounded from beyond the door. Lucian clearly heard a key slide into the lock, followed by a click as the iron door was slowly pushed open. A young man with a ruddy face, as if he had been drinking, walked in carrying a large ring of keys. His back was habitually hunched, but the moment he spotted Lucian, he straightened up and declared with a touch of arrogance: "Since you're awake, follow me to see the master." He wore the black short tunic and long trousers of a servant, and there were no restraining devices on his wrists or neck. "Master?" Lucian, who had been waiting for someone to appear, naturally wouldn't pass up the chance to ask questions. At the very least, he needed to understand where he was before meeting the mysterious "master." The young man glared at Lucian in irritation: "What right do you have to address the master? You're nothing but a scrap of experimental material the master plucked up on a whim because supplies were running low!" "Remember — you are the lowest, most wretched piece of experimental material in this arcane tower!" Lucian's heart sank. An arcane tower. Experimental material. This was only marginally better than death. But as long as he wasn't dead, there was still hope! "Rescued me? Where is this place?" Pretending not to have understood, Lucian pressed on. The young servant's temper proved rather short, and his tone grew nastier: "I was born and raised here — how should I know how to describe this place? Those careless fools who stumbled in and never got out apparently called it the Demon Land of Imprisonment." "So I really have fallen into the Demon Land. My luck couldn't possibly be worse — even a simple letter-delivery mission that wasn't supposed to be particularly dangerous turns into this kind of nightmare." Lucian's feelings were beyond words, and he let out a soft sigh. After finding Elvis, his contact, Lucian had thought the mission was nearing completion. Elvis regularly traveled between the adventurer camp and the Nightmare King's arcane tower, and with him as guide there should have been no encounters with powerful magical creatures. Who could have predicted that the Demon Land would drift right toward them, sending the danger level skyrocketing? "What happened to those people who couldn't get out? And — my companion, where is he?" Lucian followed the servant's thread of conversation. The young servant seemed to recall something amusing and, without getting angry, answered: "Your companion? He's already a desiccated corpse. Those who stumble in here — they either become snacks for the monsters in the surrounding forest, or they become the master's experimental material. Only two are still alive, locked in the cell next to yours. No — three are alive... Damn it, shut your mouth! Hurry up and follow me to see the master!" It was the first time he had encountered someone like Lucian — someone who, even upon learning the dire nature of their situation, insisted on asking endless questions. He had answered almost reflexively, but midway through, his expression suddenly shifted, revealing deep fear and apprehension, and he sternly ordered Lucian to fall silent. Lucian didn't provoke him further. Wearing the Binding Shackles and Anti-Magic Collar, he followed the servant up through the arcane tower. Along the way, Lucian studied the young servant's back intently — assessing his melee combat capability from his gait and his footfall, while evaluating the possibility of suddenly lunging forward to snap his neck or knock him unconscious. By the time they reached the fifth floor, Lucian withdrew his gaze and recalled the materials he had borrowed from the Arcane Council's library — records of the various human experiments conducted by ancient mages. Before a black door inscribed with arcane patterns, the servant knocked gently: "Master, your new piece of experimental material has awakened. I've brought him to you." "Bring him in." A hoarse, aged female voice seemed to seep through the crack in the door. Lucian showed no surprise at the master's gender. For dangerous ancient lineage mages, gender had no bearing on the depth of their depravity. The black door receded on its own, and Lucian took in the full view of the arcane laboratory. It was similar to the one Muskilin had left behind — with the gray liquid "Aether" flowing back and forth, tentacle-like pipes and black threads enveloping the entire space, pale human hands suspended in midair with fingers curled like chicken claws, along with dissection tables, massive alchemical platforms, and countless bizarre experimental devices and vessels. An ancient woman in red arcane robes, bent terrifyingly with age, paused in the middle of a human dissection and turned to look at Lucian. Her hair was frizzy and streaked with white, wrinkles hung from her face as though they had lost all elasticity, and her entire frame was withered and gaunt — extraordinarily ugly and terrifying. The old woman's murky green eyes studied Lucian carefully for a moment. She nodded slightly and spoke in a voice that carried a hint of fanaticism beneath its aged rasp: "He'll need to be electrocuted first."