Lanqi pondered for a moment. It seemed Duke Morotian wished to keep this meeting relatively discreet, which was why he had not made grand arrangements or applied through formal academy channels, choosing instead to have the warden deliver the message privately.
"Who told you to be such a busy man of the Empire, always elusive as a dragon showing its head but never its tail?"
Warden Bakas shook his head with a chuckle, watching Lanqi's expression closely to see whether he would agree.
If he agreed, Duke Morotian Berenhard would naturally owe Bakas a favor; if he refused, Bakas certainly would not offend Luoqi McCarthy either.
All along the way, Bakas had been trying to decipher the mind of the man beside him. Yet he sensed only the inscrutable aura of a superior, entirely unable to discern what thoughts were turning behind those deep, reflective eyes.
Lanqi finally came to a stop, standing with Warden Bakas before a pair of crimson double doors near the end of the corridor.
"No problem. Since Warden Bakas has personally asked, I will make time no matter how busy I am. How about this: once we finish discussing our joint project today, I will wait for Mr. Berenhard in my office?"
Lanqi looked gently at Warden Bakas, as though reassuring him that he would certainly grant him this face.
"...I am truly flattered. In that case, may I send Duke Morotian Berenhard a reply first before we begin our discussion in earnest?"
Warden Bakas paused slightly in surprise, then smiled and offered a polite nod.
He found conversing with this Governor Luoqi McCarthy exceedingly comfortable.
Compared to the immensely powerful Duke Morotian Berenhard, Luoqi McCarthy still showed greater respect to Bakas right before him, placing their negotiations first and Duke Morotian Berenhard second.
"Of course, Mr. Bakas. Right this way, please."
Smiling, Lanqi pushed open the heavy door and gestured for Warden Bakas to enter the VIP meeting room.
Though Lanqi showed no outward reaction, he was privately pondering what purpose Duke Morotian Berenhard had in visiting him.
In truth, he had always felt something was amiss: had Cloris and Sido lied to him, or was this Duke still an impostor?
In any case, meeting and speaking with him later would reveal whether this Duke was real or fake.
For the moment, however, the bulk of his mind was focused on the other side, out on the western outskirts of the Imperial Capital, Herrom. His occasional bouts of silence were not meant to make Warden Bakas perceive him as profound; controlling two bodies at once simply stretched his attention thin.
...
Western outskirts of the Imperial Capital, Herrom.
On the edge of Herrom stood a colossal square edifice, heavily surrounded by the stern, vigilant troops of the Protos Empire. Although the surrounding buildings of various Herrom styles each possessed their own unique charm, they all paled in comparison to this prison structure.
The walls of Herrom Prison were dark gray, as solid as cold iron and densely inscribed with ancient magic incantations. A chilling radiance encircled the building, emitting magical fluctuations sharp enough to prickle a visitor's skin and forming an impregnable protective barrier.
Yet this above-ground section was merely the tip of the iceberg of this subterranean, world-like penitentiary.
Herrom Prison comprised seven levels in total. Aside from the ground-level foundation floor, the first through third subterranean floors formed the outer sector, while the fourth through sixth subterranean floors constituted the inner sector.
For ordinary students of the Protos Royal Magic Academy, merely gazing upon its presence from afar brought an invisible wave of dread and oppression sweeping over them.
Consequently, the vast majority of third-year students never chose the "Herrom Prison Guard Assessment" for their capstone diploma course.
Only by presenting legitimate imperial credentials and paperwork and clearing multiple security checkpoints could one gain entry into the foundation floor of Herrom Prison.
Patrolling the perimeter of the barrier outside the structure were numerous figures clad in specialized imperial officer uniforms. They were no ordinary imperial soldiers, but non-commissioned officers of the magical special operations forces. Anyone passing by who displayed the slightest flaw or suspicious behavior would instantly be locked on by their sharp, eagle-like eyes and detection magic.
All of this was because Herrom Prison housed numerous extremely dangerous felons of the Empire.
In the past, to prevent the Resurrection Church or unlawful elements from targeting the prisoners inside, the security measures here had been even stricter.
Now that the Resurrection Church had become a legal organization, every branch had to maintain a law-abiding, pristine image amidst the current storm of scrutiny, actively assisting the imperial military to demonstrate their willingness to cooperate.
With these former professional terrorists cracking down on other criminals, the frequency of violent incidents and crime across the Empire had plummeted in the short term.
Early this morning, outside the fortress-like perimeter of Herrom Prison, Hyperion and four other figures had passed through the building's layers of security inspections. In the morning sunlight, their shadows stretched long and straight across the wide road until they ventured deeper inside, where the shadows vanished as though wiped away, consumed by a completely enclosed space.
The trainee guard uniforms worn by the group bore the Protos Royal Magic Academy crest—a collaborative official uniform design. Anyone who selected the "Herrom Prison Guard Assessment" would receive a set as a keepsake, regardless of whether they passed or failed, lived or died.
"..."
Hyperion glanced back at the somewhat absentminded girl with black hair and green eyes.
At present, the Poet of Great Love had transformed into her human form, and her body was under Lanqi's control.
Yet because Lanqi had to control two bodies situated in entirely different scenarios at once, the Poet of Great Love on this side occasionally appeared distracted, nearly tripping or bumping into the security gates as she walked. Whenever she lost her balance, Hyperion had to catch her arm and guide her along.
After nearly half an hour of security checks and registration verifications, this five-student team finally stepped into the labyrinthine interior of Herrom Prison's foundation floor.
Amidst the interplay of light and shadow, the foundation floor of Herrom Prison slowly unveiled its ancient, heavy curtain. Every corner of this seemingly forgotten space was steeped in Demon Realm-style architecture and boundary fields.
Stepping into the vast hall, their eyes were met by intricate crystal conduits and magic apparatuses sprawling across towering walls. Occasionally, the low hum of distant magical energy in operation echoed through the air. These relics of demon civilization gave off a profound, inextinguishable glow, as if narrating a tale of power and destruction.
Beneath these perilous mechanical structures lay the final security checkpoint, alongside the core area of the foundation floor where Hyperion had now arrived—a massive, deep-purple mirror.
To Hyperion, who frequently challenged Shadow Worlds and artificial Shadow Worlds in the Southern Continent, the structure of such an object was intimately familiar.
The demon race had utilized a branch of magic engineering akin to the Void Gates of artificial Shadow Worlds, linking the prison's foundation floor to the subterranean levels through this single interface. Passing down to each subsequent level required strict compliance with the rules and regulations of the prison's boundary field; otherwise, it could not be breached by any other means.
For the trainee guards taking part in the assessment, the foundation floor served merely as a preparation area where they could complete paperwork to withdraw at any time. The duties of officers on this level were largely clerical and involved no contact with prisoners.
Once they entered the first subterranean floor, the perilous trial would truly begin. With every level downward, the danger escalated dramatically, and there was no turning back to the previous floor; one could only continue downward, with the option to conclude the assessment and return to the foundation floor only upon reaching the third or sixth subterranean levels.
Chapter 389