*Smack!*\n\nThe scroll slipped from his fingers and hit the ground.\n\nThat scarlet signature was strikingly stark, terribly clear.\n\nOutside Giant's Mouth Cave, the biting wind still howled and heavy snow tumbled down, setting the dragon's minions shivering so violently that every breath formed puffs of white mist. Inside the cavern, however, the air remained as warm as an oven.\n\nYet Alger felt as though he had plunged into an abyss of ice, collapsing limp onto the stone floor.\n\nHis oath, his faith, the rigorous training and discipline he had endured for years, everything he had striven for—all came crashing down in that single moment.\n\nHe had trained in combat day and night, honing his synergy with his giant eagle, only to end up an accomplice in sacrificing innocent lives.\n\nHe had sworn fealty to Duke Brad, never imagining that the man who had knighted him and presented him his sword was the greatest enemy of his life.\n\nHe had absorbed the teachings of the family instructors, only to reduce himself to an obedient hound on a leash.\n\nHis fearless battles, his sacrifices, his devotion had all been offered to the very man who had murdered his parents, like a tragic figure straight out of an opera.\n\n—And this was undeniably the most absolute repudiation of his life, the bitterest irony imaginable.\n\nAlger used to blind his own thoughts with hatred, allowing himself to carry out missions ruthlessly without having to weigh right from wrong.\n\nNow that this final fig leaf had been torn away, nothing remained in his heart except a raw, bleeding wound and endless remorse.\n\nAlger sank to his knees.\n\nThe horrific scene of that massacre surged into his mind once again.\n\nBlazing buildings all around, crowds holding torches high and cheering as they followed behind him, chanting slogans: "Drive out the devils!" "Protect the citizens!" Meanwhile, that tiefling mother had been completely unarmed, clutching her child tightly in her arms, tears streaming down her face as she knelt before him, begging piteously for mercy.\n\nAnd he remembered the words she had spoken just before her death—\n\n"Please... let my child live."\n\nBlinded by hatred back then, he had brought down the Eagle Screech Silver Sword without the slightest hesitation.\n\nWith the weapon's signature, piercing cry of an eagle, he had butchered her in cold blood.\n\nHe had murdered mother and child alike.\n\nWith his own hands, he had set fire to their settlement and burned it to ash.\n\nWhat he had done was no different from what his sworn enemy had done. In fact, he had been the monster's accomplice all along.\n\nHe was no avenger.\n\nHe was no righteous champion.\n\nHe was merely an ignorant pawn used by his parents' killer.\n\nAn executioner who butchered civilians.\n\nA pitiful wretch who didn't even know who he was.\n\n"I'm sorry..."\n\nHis voice trembled.\n\nIt was impossible to tell whether this apology was meant for Mezrolash or for the tieflings who had died.\n\nMezrolash's obsidian eyes showed not a single ripple of emotion. Standing with his hands clasped behind his back, he looked down at him with cold detachment.\n\n"It's too late, Alger."\n\n"All of it has already happened."\n\n"Your apology is utterly worthless to me. It only sickens me."\n\nAlger did not lift his head, his whole body shaking as he replied, "Kill me."\n\nMezrolash let out a cold sneer and whispered, "If your life were mine to take, you would have been sliced to pieces in the dungeon long ago. But look at you now—just like a stray dog. Leaving you to live in agony isn't a bad outcome either."\n\nToward an enemy etched into his heart, the former paladin did not spare a single drop of venom.\n\nAlger slammed his forehead against the stone floor, once, twice, again and again.\n\nBlood trickled down from his brow.\n\nTears flooded his face, mingling with the blood until his vision blurred completely.\n\nHe repeated, "Please... kill me."\n\nMezrolash watched him coldly, then said, "You want to find redemption by dying at my hands, don't you? The murderer slain by the avenger—what a worn-out cliché. You always take things for granted, just as you took it for granted that the bloodthirsty Duke was a magnanimous benefactor, just as you pinned the murder of your parents on our people, and just as you took it for granted that slaughtering our settlement was justified."\n\nMezrolash stepped forward, seized Alger by the hair, and hauled his head up by force.\n\nLeaning close to his ear, he whispered:\n\n"Alger, your life and death were taken out of your hands long ago. The only reason you're still breathing is that you're still useful to Lord Cassius."\n\nMezrolash hurled Alger roughly back to the ground.\n\nHaving said his piece, he stood aside, looking on with cold indifference.\n\nThe tiefling paladin had not allowed himself to be consumed by hatred; his only concern now was the survival of his kin. Alger's life or death held no meaning for him.\n\nCassius looked down upon Alger from above, his expression devoid of anything resembling pity.\n\n"I already told you there was no need to deceive you. I merely let you witness the truth. You should have known all along."\n\nAlger remained on his knees, blood dripping steadily from his forehead.\n\n"I should have... known..." he muttered to himself.\n\nThe trickling blood seemed to clear his head.\n\nAlger finally pulled himself out of utter collapse and regained a measure of calm, a trace of clarity returning to his eyes.\n\nHe could not die yet. He had not dealt with the true architect behind all this suffering, had not truly avenged his parents, and had not achieved his own redemption.\n\nOnce dead, there would never be another chance to make amends.\n\nThe face of Duke Brad Lakeman surfaced in his mind.\n\nA man in his fifties with a pale complexion, neatly trimmed mustaches, and silver-rimmed spectacles, whose hair and irises were jet-black, save for the occasional faint gleam of scarlet.\n\nHe always spoke unhurriedly in a rich aristocratic drawl that never felt forced.\n\nIn the past, the thought of that face filled Alger with profound reverence and gratitude.\n\nNow, only boundless hatred remained.\n\nAt the thought, Alger said in a low, heavy voice, "I want to live... and kill him."\n\n"Kill whom?" Cassius asked, golden eyes glinting with amusement as he knowingly played along.\n\n"Brad Lakeman."\n\nThe familiar name fell from Alger's lips, but this time spoken with absolute certainty and resolute finality.\n\n"You can't achieve that on your own."\n\n"..."\n\nAlger fell into silence.\n\nAfter a long pause, as if having weighed every consequence, he slowly lowered his forehead until it pressed against the ground, oblivious to the dirt beneath him. His eyes burned with unwavering resolve.\n\n"Lord Cassius, I swear fealty to you. I am willing to lay down my life for you, to become your most loyal servant, and to serve by your side with all my might. I will be your dagger in the shadows, your concealed blade, sweeping away every obstacle in your path. If only you will allow me to..."\n\n"Kill him."\n\nCassius gave a slight nod and said:\n\n"I have no need for a so-called martyr; that's meaningless. What I need you to do... is help me with an experiment."
Chapter 55