'What does despair feel like?'
Ralf felt that he knew the answer to this question.
The pain of his throat being crushed and torn by the female bartender from the Brotherhood (he still did not know Jala's name) seemed to have happened just five minutes ago.
After that, he felt as if he was enduring that pain every single moment.
Blood flowed from his throat into his lungs.
The pain spread from his throat to his brain.
Even his airways were blocked.
He could not speak.
He could not breathe.
He could not move.
He was like a severely injured and dying wild dog that was casually abandoned on Red Street Market.
Whether he died of pain, suffocation, or suffocation, he did not have long to live.
Only his childhood experience of wandering around the Camus Union had forced him to live, and his desire to live was the only thing that kept him alive.
He, the superpower user who could control the wind, used his superpower again and again. As if he were squeezing a sponge, he squeezed the air that was full of dust, blood, and filth into his lungs through his cracked throat one mouthful after another.
Then, he squeezed the air out from another wound on his neck.
"Phew."
"Phew."
"Phew."
"Phew."
Every 'breath' was accompanied by inhuman pain. It was as if he was going back and forth between hell's river and the human world.
'I'm probably the first person to use my Psionic ability to prolong my life,' Ralf thought sadly.
Ralf felt like a stray dog that scavenged for trash in the sewers for a living.
The female bartender left.
The cop left.
A few teams of thugs passed by his heavily injured and dying body.
A spy flipped him over and checked his mouth and nose.
An earth-shattering explosion reached his ears.
Ralf did not care about it.
He only instinctively used his Psionic ability to 'breathe' amidst the pain.
Until dawn.
Until Numeno, who retreated in panic, carried his' corpse '.
Numeno, who was born as a hunter in the countryside, was recognized as a coward among the Strongest Twelve. Ralf had always looked down on him. He mocked, humiliated, and bullied him in the gang. It was the Phantom Wind Follower's hobby.
The most ironic thing was that it was this coward whom he despised who 'collected' his corpse at the last moment.
Ralf was woken up by the sharp pain in his legs.
His hands were tightly bound. He opened his eyes in the police station's morgue.
Then he saw Nikolay.
The leader of Blood Bottle Gang's eight cadres (He did not know that he had already lost five of them in Red Street Market) was the 'Red Viper' Nikolay.
But Nikolay only stared at him with a complicated expression, shaking his head in disgust and malevolence.
"You are one of the few survivors from the Blood Bottle Gang," Red Viper said faintly.
Ralf struggled and wanted to make a sound. He endured the pain in his throat, but he could only make meaningless sounds.
A sharp pain came from his knee!
He could not feel anything below his knees.
"Look at you, Ralf, the strongest of the twelve strongest, the only supra-class expert."
"That outstanding, arrogant, arrogant, and promising Phantom Wind Follower, Ralf."
"A young man who was proudly and proudly recommended to the Air Mystic by Lady Catherine, a young man with limitless potential."
The Red Viper gently patted his face. Her eyes were still filled with complex emotions and disgust.
"But now, he's lying here like a corpse, unable to speak, unable to breathe, unable to move, unable to eat."
"Why are you still alive?"
The Red Viper's eyebrows furrowed. His expression became ugly and crazed.
"Why are you the one who survived, and not Sykes, Song, Sven, or Dorno? Why are you the one who survived? Why are you the one who survived? Why are you the one who survived, and not mine? "
Ralf widened his eyes. He struggled in anger and pain, but the double pain and disability prevented him from moving.
The Red Viper put away his anger and started laughing. He was very happy, very happy, but also very sick.
"Blood Bottle Gang has suffered heavy losses, and my power has also been greatly damaged," he said softly. "If the members were complete, maybe Catherine could step on me and rise to power. Who knows?"
But Nikolay's expression became ferocious.
"But how can a Phantom Wind Follower, who cannot speak, has no legs, and is seriously injured and on the verge of death, serve her?
"So," Nikolay said as he stretched out his hand. With a twisted expression, he pinched Ralf's knee. The wound that was forcefully stopped bleeding by the flames!
"Why don't you just die in battle and disappear!"
"Ugh …" Ralf shut his eyes tightly in pain. He struggled with all his might to move his body, which was seriously injured and unable to move. It was not to break free, but to reduce the pain in his knee.
The wind psionic ability that he relied on to 'breathe' was almost interrupted!
"I am in a bad mood today. I have to clean up the mess and run into walls everywhere." Nikolay sighed and continued, "But I have gotten rid of you and eliminated a genius that Catherine thinks highly of. I still feel very happy."
Looking at the resentment, pain, and rage in Ralf's eyes, Nikolay showed an apologetic and helpless expression.
He smiled and said, "I have no choice. 'They' want a supra class elite, and they even emphasized that the wrist must be left to draw blood. Otherwise, I would have cut off your hand and not your leg."
He patted Ralf's face in the end and whispered into his ear, "I wish you and the vampires have a good time."
Nikolay's footsteps faded into the distance. Two thugs from the Blood Bottle Gang walked over. One of them picked up a three-inch long copper needle with a tube, while the other grabbed Ralf's limp wrist.
At that moment, Ralf deeply felt despair.
Thales stared blankly at Ralf.
He had the urge to ask him what happened to Jala in the end. What was the outcome of their battle? Did Jala escape? How did Ralf end up like this? Was he not a member of the Blood Bottle Gang?
But Thales hesitated.
Because he saw Ralf at that very moment.
He saw this legless man whose gaze was unfocused and could only express his emotions with meaningless cries. His eyes were a mixture of despair, pain, regret, and grief.
He still remembered Ralf from last night.
Frivolous, confident, arrogant, and extraordinary.
He came and went freely in the endless gale, leaving behind his signature laughter.
And now?
"Huff … huff …" Ralf closed his eyes again and moaned in pain.
The Phantom Wind Follower who was casual, sharp-tongued, and fearless was no longer there.
His lips were dark and dry, and it was obvious that he was severely dehydrated. But Thales could not find any water, and he could not be sure if Ralf could still swallow in his current condition.
Thales did not even know how he breathed.
The prince only sat at the side in a daze, watching Ralf suffer in pain and struggle.
In the second year after he transmigrated, a female beggar's legs were broken by Quide. That poor girl wailed for an entire night before she died.
At that time, Thales was still muddle-headed and only managed to retrieve a few pieces of his memories. He was horrified and terrified by the horrors of reality. He could only hide in a hole in the wall and shiver.
So, in his dreams, he listened to the girl's wails for an entire night.
It was similar to now.
Later on, he did wonder why he did not have more courage to end the girl's pain.
Thales looked at Ralf's deformed appearance, and his heart felt heavy.
'No matter how great the crime, no one deserves to suffer like this,' he told himself.
In the end, the boy still sighed and crawled to Ralf's side.
He said softly, "Ralf.
Midira Ralf. "
Even though his consciousness was gradually fading away, at that moment, Ralf's pupils still instinctively focused.
'Who?
Who will remember me?
A cripple like this, waiting for death? '
Thales gently pulled out JC's dagger and slowly pressed it against Ralf's neck.
"I know that you are in pain right now. You are enduring torment and suffering that ordinary people cannot imagine.
And I can end your life and help you to free yourself from all of this. "
Ralf's breathing through his throat and psionic ability suddenly became disorderly.
'Torture.
Suffering.
Relief? '
"But I must ask you solemnly and cautiously, Midira Ralf. Are you willing to let me free you from your pain?
"If you are willing, blink your eyelids.
"If you are not willing …
"I will only ask this once."
Thales had a solemn expression as he waited for Ralf's reaction.
In the darkness, Ralf stared at the boy's blurry silhouette in front of him.
'Relief.'
Ralf felt the pain from his throat to his knees. Every 'breath' tore open the wound in his throat. Every time he struggled, it affected the stump in his knees.
He was thirsty, hungry, cold, in pain, and most terrifying of all, in despair.
He remembered the feeling of the wind fluttering beside him. He remembered the first time he killed someone with his psionic ability, the first time he entered a gang, the first time he received a reward from the higher-ups, the first time he became a man with that frail girl's body, and the first time he met the Air Mystic as if he was on a pilgrimage.
He remembered his enemies' fearful gazes, his companions' submissive gazes, "her" expression of admiration, and the smugness and satisfaction he felt when he heard the whispers about the "Strongest Twelve".
That was the glory of the past.
And he had lost all of it forever.
'Isn't it?'
In the next moment, Ralf's gaze was firm. He tried his best to drive his greatly reduced psionic ability and 'inhale' a breath for his half-crippled body.
Then, the Phantom Wind Follower trembled. He used all his strength and endured the pain of rubbing against the locks on both sides to raise his head and look at Thales seriously.
He prepared to blink.
'One blink is enough.
One! '
Thales then saw Ralf's eyelids tremble. They trembled and slowly closed towards the center.
Thales sighed in his heart and slowly tightened his grip on the dagger in his hand.
But Ralf's eyelids only trembled and stopped in the middle of his eyes.
They did not close until the very last moment.
A long time passed.
A long time passed.
A familiar or unfamiliar scene flashed before the eyes of the former Phantom Wind Follower. Barren fields, dirty muddy roads, wild dogs everywhere, and swarms of flies.
That was when he was young, struggling to survive in the countryside of Camus Union.
That time, he fought with a group of wild dogs for a piece of black bread that was almost finished by a swarm of flies.
'Those wild dogs are so fierce,' Ralf thought quietly in the dungeon.
'Their deafening roars, their relentless biting, their insane strength, and yet …' Ralf subconsciously licked his upper teeth.
'That bread tastes terrible.'
In Thales' eyes, Ralf's face trembled and twisted.
His eyelids slowly relaxed, opened, and returned to their previous angle.
* Thud! *
Between the two locks, Ralf's head, which he had painstakingly propped up, suddenly fell backwards as if he had deflated. The back of his head hit the ground.
In the end, he did not blink.
Thales quietly exhaled and slowly put down the dagger in his hand.
But Ralf was oblivious to the pain at the back of his head and the scratches on his cheeks.
His twisted face, along with his head, began to tremble slightly.
* Sob … Sob … *
This was not a moan.
Thales could not help but be stunned.
He saw Ralf close his eyes in pain. His face trembled, and he allowed the transparent liquid to flow continuously from his eyes.
* Sob … *
His voice was very suppressed and sorrowful.
He was crying.
The Phantom Wind Follower, the once powerful and glorious Psionic, man, and warrior.
He was actually crying.
He did not know if he was crying for his own cowardice or the pain at the moment.
He was like an ordinary person, a normal person, or even a slightly weak little citizen.
As if he could not bear the burden.
He cried.
Thales could only watch in a daze.
He watched this man who could not speak or breathe normally. After giving up the chance to be free, he fell to the ground and cried bitterly.
Thales turned his head away dejectedly, but his grip on the dagger in his hand tightened.
'Ursula, Ned, Kellet.'
The child beggars who died in the sixth house and did not even have surnames appeared before his eyes one by one.
He thought about his own situation, Gilbert, and Yodel.
The prince furrowed his eyebrows and lowered his head to look at his hand. The new cut on it was as familiar as the burning sensation he felt earlier.
At that moment, something seemed to fall from the bottom of his heart.
Thales moved closer to Ralf's ear for the second time.
"I understand now."
He said softly.
Ralf was still crying uncontrollably.
"Then, are you willing to break free of these shackles?"
Ralf's crying paused for a moment. It did not stop, but it gradually became softer.
The wailing little girl with a broken leg appeared before Thales' eyes. He thought of almost every child who died in the Abandoned Houses in the past four years.
Screams and wails came from outside the prison.
'This f * cked up world.'
The boy did not know what was in the underground prison, but his gaze as he looked at Ralf became simpler and clearer.
Then, the prince stared seriously at the Phantom Wind Follower, who could no longer move with the wind, and continued speaking in a resolute and decisive manner.
He continued to speak resolutely, "Break free of these shackles, and then, with this broken body, struggle to survive in this world.
Let's see how cruel it can be.
Are you willing? "
Ralf stopped crying.
He could not move his head. He could only turn his gaze and stare at the boy beside him in a daze.
The boy enunciated each word clearly.
"This may not be freedom.
Perhaps the price will be great. You may even die immediately.
And I am only doing this for myself. "
Thales lowered his head and said slowly, "But I can try to give you a chance.
"But I can try to give you a chance to break free from these shackles and struggle one more time."
Are you willing? "
Ralf's eyes were fixed on the boy's eyes.
Even though there were still tears in his eyes, he suddenly wanted to laugh in his heart.
He seemed to feel that the pain in his throat and knees were gradually becoming numb.
Those wild dogs.
Those wild dogs who fought with him for his bread.
The fate of those stray dogs — Ralf forced himself to "breathe", and a strange joy welled up in his heart — the fate of those dogs.
'How tragic.'
Ralf, who was lying on the ground, raised his trembling eyes and stared at Thales.
In the next moment, the Phantom Wind Follower slowly but clearly.
He blinked once.
Everyone blinked countless times in their lives.
It was inconspicuous.
But just now, Ralf blinked once. It was the most important blink of his life.
Ralf slowly lowered his head.
Thales smiled, dispersing the gloom in his heart. The prince nodded briskly.
"Alright, I understand."
—
"I originally thought that His Highness had woken up ahead of time.
But it doesn't seem to be the case now. "
In a dark room on the third floor of Vine Manor, Chris furrowed his eyebrows.
In front of him was a huge brownish-black stone coffin that was connected to countless blood vessels. It had complicated patterns and was as tall as a person, three meters wide, and six meters long.
At that moment, the huge coffin kept vibrating.
"I tried to connect to His Highness' consciousness, but the feedback is still chaotic. There's only hunger and killing instincts. No matter how I pacify and communicate, it's the same!" Chris put down a blood vessel in his hand. His expression became increasingly grim.
"If this continues, His Highness will only use up his remaining energy and blood in advance!"
Rolana's expression was horrified. The red-haired Blood Clansman said nervously, "Something must have agitated His Highness, but we didn't do anything!"
Chris' eyes sparkled. There was no trace of the deathly stillness and dryness from before. The old man said resolutely, "It's not us!
His Highness only had this reaction five minutes ago. At that time … "
Chris's expression changed. He suddenly turned around and shouted at Istrone, who had a solemn expression on his face, "Don't worry.
He shouted at the solemn-looking Istrone, "That whelp!
We can smell the fragrance of his blood even from two floors away. With His Highness' sense of smell, it's even more obvious … Where's that whelp? "
The restless Istrone looked at the agitated Chris and answered subconsciously, "He seemed to have accidentally cut himself just now.
Then, he pulled out that half-crippled supra class's blood vessel and said some strange things. I didn't listen carefully, then he … "
The expressionless Chris did not listen to Istrone's explanation. The suspicious coffin was still vibrating and making muffled sounds. The old man rudely and directly interrupted Istrone's words.
"Bring that whelp up … No, Isa, you stay here. Let Rolana do it."
As he watched the huge coffin vibrate more frequently, an unusual spark flashed in Chris' eyes. "His blood is what His Highness desires."
—
"This plan is very risky," Thales calmly stated to Ralf who was on the ground. It was as if he had returned to the sixth house and was doing everything he could to protect the innocent, innocent, and innocent child beggars who were born to suffer in Hell's River.
"But it's even more unwise to sit here and wait for a miracle and surrender."
Ralf only quietly looked at the boy whose gaze was obviously different from ordinary people. He laboriously inhaled a mouthful of air.
'His serious look …' Ralf laughed in his heart. 'He's not any worse than Big Sister.'
The Phantom Wind Follower did not realize that after experiencing the choice between life and death, he had already become much more at ease.
Thales continued to explain calmly, as if he was not the one speaking.
"I don't know how much power you have left, but I estimate that it won't be a lot. Also, that old man's power …
"So, reckless risks and waiting passively are not suitable for the current situation. Our best and best timing is to wait for my reinforcements to arrive. The moment they break the door — "
"You won't be able to wait for reinforcements, mortal whelp."
A cold female voice interrupted Thales' words.
Ralf's expression instantly tensed up.
Thales was stunned for a moment. He turned his head around in disbelief and looked at the cell door.
Outside the bars, Rolana Corleone, who was dressed in a playful riding outfit, used her slender and beautiful right index finger to seductively scratch her lips. At the same time, she used her left hand, which had turned into a terrifying claw, to violently open the cell door's lock!
"Istrone said it before, right? No matter what you do, we will be able to hear you."
"Young Mister Istrone who played a trick on you." As if mocking him, Rolana chuckled and swayed her alluring, slender waist. Step by step, she gracefully and seductively entered the cell through the opened cell door. "What a pity. Perhaps if you were a few years older, even I would be bewitched by you.
"But now, you are about to become His Highness's fragrant and rich energy-filled beverage. Perhaps the adorable Rolana can even have a taste?"
Watching Rolana, who could suddenly appear at any time, Thales understood that she could subdue him at any time.
The prince heaved a deep sigh. It was sincere and regretful.
"Ralf," he said flatly. There was not a hint of panic in his voice. "I need ten seconds."
'Ten seconds?'
Rolana suddenly felt uneasy.
She thought of Istrone, who had been fooled.
'What other trump card could he have? 'That half-crippled supra class mortal who was trapped in the Night Wing Stone Lock?'
But the cunning Rolana did not want to take the risk. Her expression became fierce and decisive in the blink of an eye.
'A deliberately mystifying brat.'
Her alluring figure flashed before Thales' eyes in an instant.
'Once His Highness has sucked you dry, you can still —'
But at this moment, a strange gust of wind suddenly rose up in the narrow prison cell!
* Whoosh! *
The light from the fire flickered rapidly and dimmed.
The gust of wind pushed Rolana three steps back. Shocked, she quickly grabbed the bars beside her and stood firmly.
'This is … a psionic ability?
Impossible. This child cannot be a Psionic.
'That is …' Rolana strenuously looked at the supra class elite who was chained to the ground by the Night Wing Stone Lock beside Thales. 'It's him!
He's already in this state, but he still has some strength left. '
'It's useless.' Rolana breathed a sigh of relief and thought happily. 'Being chained to this state and heavily injured, even if you have a psionic ability, how long can you last?
'As for that trickster … Even if I have to endure Chris' scolding later, I will have a taste of him first.
He will definitely leave a deep impression on you! ' Rolana thought fiercely.
"Then, let's begin."
Thales looked at Rolana, who was obstructed by the gust of wind in front of him. He calmly turned the dagger around.
Ten.
Under Ralf's puzzled gaze, he used his uninjured right hand to hold the tip of the dagger.
Nine.
"Good luck to both of us," he said.
Eight.
'My first mystic ability test.'
Seven.
Begin.
Six.
Thales stared at the black stone shackles on Ralf's body.
Ralf's face turned red as he stared at Rolana. The gust of wind continued.
Rolana gripped the bars beside her with a cold expression. Her left hand began to transform into a terrifying crimson claw.
Five.
'I want to break his shackles,' Thales thought silently.
'I want to save this man who has nothing left.
Four.
'If it's really as I expected …' The boy recalled the scenes of life and death in his mind.
'Quide's hand around his neck.
'Asda's hand clenched gently.
'Also, the bloody scene in my distant memory, and the gentle chuunibyou whose name I cannot name.'
Three.
Thales clenched his teeth and closed his eyes. His right hand suddenly grabbed the metal lock!
A burning sensation came from the metal.
But he gritted his teeth and endured it.
Rolana felt something.
She turned her head in shock and found that the bars she was holding on to were vibrating!
'What's going on?' The female Blood Clansman thought in panic.
'That half-crippled fellow … Does he have multiple Psionic abilities?'
Two.
* Rip — *
The bars shattered into countless small pieces as Rolana's hand moved.
Rolana, who could not stand steadily, clutched the wound on her arm and screamed. She was instantly blown out of the dungeon by the gust of wind formed by Psionic abilities.
One.
Rolana's shrill and crazy roars traveled into his ears.
A burning sensation hit him.
Zero.
'Light …' Thales thought as his consciousness blurred.
'So much light.'
—
In the room on the third floor where the giant coffin was kept, Chris suddenly had a strange expression.
"What is Rolana trying to do?" he asked coldly as he looked at the giant coffin that kept making muffled sounds.
"Perhaps she wants to try her mouth first," Istrone answered carefully. He felt the lord's nervousness and continued, "She has always been … No! They are — "
Istrone's words were interrupted by the outside world as the two of them looked at each other in shock.
* Boom! *
A loud sound that sounded like an explosion came from underground.
A cloud of dust blew in from outside the door.
The expressions of the two Blood Clansmen, one old and one young, changed at the same time. They exchanged glances.
'Something happened in the dungeon.'
In the next moment, their figures appeared outside the manor.
The moment Istrone saw the scene before him clearly, he was so shocked that he lost his composure.
Under the moonlight …
The legless supra class mortal with a tattoo on his face.
The former Phantom Wind Follower, Midira Ralf.
He had already broken free from all restraints.
He was holding the mortal's cub tightly. With the help of the gust of wind, his expression was resolute.
He was flying in the air.
—
Not far away, Gilbert's expression changed as he galloped on his horse with thirty Swordsmen of Eradication.
"Bloodline Lamp," he said to the female official beside him in a low voice amidst the galloping wind.
Jines, who was jolting on the horse, saw the lamp in Gilbert's arms with a solemn expression.
The flame of the lamp turned red.
It tilted to one side.
"That direction …" Gilbert recalled for a while, and his expression was solemn.
"It is the Covendier Family's Vine Manor!"
The female official roared angrily and lashed her horse with her whip.
"Who cares whose family it is!
Even if it is the Walton Family of Eckstedt in front of us …
"… we have to kill our way in!"
Gilbert nodded. Determination and fierceness appeared on his face.
"Everyone, follow me and turn!
"There is no need to conserve the horses!
"Speed up and advance!
"Prepare for battle!
"If this book is to your liking, there is no harm in liking it, recommending it, supporting the new author, and supporting niche fantasy novels other than killing monsters and leveling up.
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