Chapter 718- Weapons from the Kingdom of Blackthorn
That said, even though this was a prison, he had remodelled it with simple yet comfortable living quarters. Equipped with beds, basic furnishings, and even a few amenities that could be deemed luxurious in a dungeon. A juxtapose with its purpose.
Beyond the level 1, the prison grew more severe and ominous. Deeper levels delved into subterranean recesses, revealing narrow corridors lined with thick cell doors. The air in these corridors was heavy with the weight of desperation and despair.
Prisoners, criminals, and intruders who had committed grave offences and were not deemed deserving of swift death, were incarcerated here. The place had numerous scary tools designed and aimed to break the spirit of those trapped within, subjecting them to isolation, darkness and torture forever.
This undercover prison was not Simon's personal creation, but rather the work of his Valkyries and other subordinates of his.
Each level of the underground prison grew progressively harsher, with cells becoming smaller and more confining. In the lowest and most severe section, level 3, the confinement reached its peak.
The passages here narrowed to a suffocating degree, and prisoners were isolated in pitch-black chambers. The only sounds that reached them were the distant echoes of dripping water and the haunting symphony of their own thoughts.
Amid this bleak darkness, Herm who was imprisoned in one of the cells, trembled uncontrollably. The oppressive atmosphere and the complete absence of light weighed heavily on his psyche.
Even after just a day in this place, he could feel his sanity slipping away and his mind raced with fear and regret.
"Did I make a mistake? Sir Roderick wasn't supposed to die. He is a powerhouse above level 500… how" As he was contemplating his choices while tightly clenching onto his head, suddenly a faint noise broke through the silence.
Footsteps echoed in the darkness, gradually growing louder. Herm's heart raced as he strained his ears to identify the source of the sound. Soon, figures emerged from the shadows, and a dim light illuminated the prison cell he was in.
"You are…" Herm immediately recognised the figure outside the cell bars. There was no way he would forget that imposing presence and those features that he had only heard about in rumours and texts.
"Demon Noble" there was no mistaking it, the being in front of him was a Demon Noble.
Simon's arrival immediately caused the suffocating atmosphere of the level 3 to drop even further.
"Hieee… s-stay away… d-d-don't come closer" Herm cried, retreating and huddling back into the corner.
Simon looked at the prisoner, whose appearance was a far cry from his once-arrogant demeanour. Fear had etched deep lines on his face, and his eyes were wide with terror. One day in this unforgiving place had broken his spirit faster than he could have ever anticipated.
"Prisoner," His tone devoid of any emotion, cut through the tense air "I have a question for you. You better answer me truthfully or else you will forever remain imprisoned here"…
"Hieee.. y-yes… I have no hand in this, I was only following orders" Herm started screaming and pleading with a trembling voice however, "Shut up… only answer whatever you are asked" Bea's sharp tone immediately silenced him.
"Prisoner, tell me… what are those items?" Simon's gaze remained steady, and he gestured toward a table where they confiscated the belongings from Herm and his group lay.
Among them was a peculiar black shield emitting a greyish-black aura, it made Simon narrow his eyes.
"How did you come into possession of these items?".
"I... I don't know. We found them, but I swear, we didn't know anything about them." With a stammering voice, Herm replied.
Simon locked his brows, this wasn't the answer he was looking for.
"Master, leave it to me, He'll spill everything once I begin my methods of persuasion" Bea who was adept in methods to break one's spirit and open their mouth, stepped forward with a confident smirk.
Hearing the sounds of chains and dangerous equipments, Herm's desperation peaked, and he fell to his knees, his voice pleading.
"No, no, please! I really don't know anything about those items! I swear!".
Simon remained silent, his stern gaze fixed on the other party. It was only when Herm saw the maid coming back with something that looked like a Scold's Bridle, did his voice croaked and he started confessing everything.
"I-I'm speaking the truth, I really have nothing to do with those weapons. Please believe me, Those items belonged to Roderick Garnald! He was brought here by His Highness, the second prince from the Kingdom of Blackthorn. I swear, I didn't know about the weapons!"…
"Roderick?! Ah, the person who was holding Cynthia. So you are saying that these items belonged to him?" Simon inquired a little sceptic.
"That's right. We were given these items by him. He said that if we used them, we would be granted immense strength and abilities. However, when I tried to give it to one of the adventurers, although he displayed immense power that was unlike his level, he started going berserk shortly afterwards. It took a group of adventurers to put him down. Ever since then, we did not dare to use them"
Herm babbled, the sight of Scold's Bridle on Bea's hand was too much of a visual impetus.
"I see, what else do you know about these items? Tell me everything"…
"Y-Yes. These items were something that was brought over by Sir Roderick from his kingdom, it is something unique to the Kingdom of Blackthorn".
"Master he is speaking the truth" Annette whispered next to his ears. Being a superior spirit she had a skill that allowed her to look at the mystical energy within one's body and determine from the slightest fluctuation if someone was lying or speaking the truth.
From what she observed, Herm was speaking the truth, there was not even an ounce of falsehood in his statement.
Simon nodded his head. for some reason, when he heard the other party mention the Kingdom of Blackthorn, the frown on his face couldn't help but deepen. He now knew where these items originated from; however, that in itself evoked several questions and implications in his mind.
Simon's eyes shifted towards the shield and other various weapons kept on the table. A memory flashed inside his head, it was a memory from the time when he visited the capital of the Kingdom of Ellesmere.
More precisely, it was when he was observing the Battle of the Finest tournament that had created a sensation in the kingdom. Even the surrounding countries came to participate in it.
Among them were the Kingdom of Golf, the Kingdom of Blackthorn and the Sanguine Empire. If his memory served right, then he had seen the participants from the Kingdom of Blackthorn use these kinds of weapons.
It allowed them to overwhelm their opponents and turn the tide of the battle. At that time, Simon thought that the energy within those weapons was quite peculiar in that it gave more of a dark feeling similar to Dark magic used by the demons.
However, he was wrong. Now that he was looking at the weapons once again, he realised that the malevolent energy that defied the natural orders of this world, was none other than curse energy.
The Curse Energy was a system of energy that was foreign to this world, Simon knew because he had come in contact with this energy when clearing the fourth trial in the forbidden grounds.
Moreover, for some reason, he was even able to use it. As such, he was more familiar than anyone when it came to the Curse Energy and the weapons on the table were no doubt emanating that energy albeit it was very diluted and faint.
Curse energy, exuded an aura of despair that sent shivers down the spines of those who encountered it. Unlike the controlled and structured nature of conventional mystical energies, curse energy was a chaotic and unpredictable force, tainted by the very essence of malice and negativity.
It was similar to the dark magic in that both share sinister and negative nature. However, Simon who could use the Curse energy, knew that it was fundamentally different.
Curse energy had a direct affinity for tainting souls and minds, leading to a deterioration of one's essence. Its nature was sticky, metaphorically clinging to everything it touches.
This stickiness implies that curse energy has a tendency to linger and embed itself deeply in its surroundings. It doesn't just pass through an area; it saturates it, seeping into objects, structures, and even the land itself.
This sticky quality makes it challenging to cleanse or remove, contributing to its sense of malevolence.
Other than that, it was inherently chaotic and devoid of structure. This chaotic essence rendered it mercurial, capable of manifesting in a myriad of unpredictable forms.
Simon, despite being able to use the curse energy was still in the process of mastering this profoundly different system of energy, and thus, there remained much unknown about its intricacies.
However, when in the presence of curse energy he couldn't be mistaken about it. That is to say, the weapons confiscated from Cynthia's pursuers, unmistakably had the presence of curse energy.
The question that now lingered in his mind was how the Kingdom of Blackthorn had managed to possess this malevolent force. No, in the first place was it even possible for the natives of this world to interact with curse energy, let alone utilizing it to forge such weapons?
Simon remembered that Irene had once repeatedly emphasised that it was impossible for a native of this world to sense the curse energy much less utilise it like him.
Visit freewe𝑏(n)ovel.𝘤ℴ𝑚 for the best novel reading experience