Upon hearing Ol'ksa's words, Jem couldn't help but feel slightly relieved and slowly exhaled.
However, the demon's subsequent words made him hesitate once more.
"I've heard about this war. The Yar Duchy deployed a total of 140,000 troops. Let's assume approximately 100,000 remain now. I demand that at least 70,000 people be transported to the island. If there aren't enough prisoners, you'll figure out how to obtain them." After delivering this ultimatum, Ol'ksa asked with mock courtesy, "Any objections?"
"Very well..."
After considerable thought, Jem finally agreed to Ol'ksa's demand.
If not for the Kingdom of Yar's increasingly unreasonable demands, Jem Woz would never have sought out Ol'ksa, so he'd possessed no real choice from the beginning.
Even though he honestly couldn't fathom how his sixty to seventy thousand troops would defeat over a hundred thousand opponents and successfully capture at least seventy thousand of them.
He could only place his hopes on Ol'ksa being powerful enough...
Watching Jem depart, Ol'ksa gently swirled the teacup in his hand, a subtle smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.
The first phase of his experiment had just concluded, and test subjects for the second phase had already arrived—quite timely indeed.
He could sense that Jem wasn't being entirely truthful, subtly probing for information. The prince probably felt emboldened again after months of recovery, and his royal pride made him want to test boundaries.
However, recognizing this, Ol'ksa didn't take such minor matters to heart.
There was never genuine loyalty, only threats and exploitation—so where could betrayal truly originate?
Furthermore, 'betrayal' itself was perfectly natural for demons; 'selling out allies' represented completely standard procedure in their existence.
Therefore, Ol'ksa never concerned himself with his subordinates' specific actions. Since he'd never trusted them initially, why bother caring excessively?
As long as they could fulfill his commands, any minor schemes remained irrelevant; he simply treated it as entertainment...
Opening the window and gazing at the night sky, Ol'ksa sighed softly, "I've maintained this human form for too long. It's been ages since I've properly stretched my body. I genuinely want to fight someone."
He had spent several months focused on research, constantly absorbing various knowledge to strengthen his foundational understanding. Though not boring, his demonic nature still left him feeling somewhat restless.
However, the gains had proved remarkable. If his knowledge accumulation previously existed at an illiterate stage, then now, among those of equivalent rank, he should be considered quite exceptional. His various insights and understanding had essentially matched his raw strength, completely compensating for his deficiencies.
Pierce lay motionless on the cold cage floor, his skin withered and gray-spotted as if afflicted with mold, his body reduced to little more than a skeleton.
He stared blankly at the candle flame that had burned continuously for months without extinguishing.
His limbs felt unresponsive, his mind clouded and confused, weakness pervading his entire being. Even slight movements brought excruciating agony, as if his whole body was on the verge of complete collapse.
He couldn't even crawl toward the food lying nearby and could only remain motionless.
He knew death was approaching, just like everyone else—a final outcome with no variation.
He had forgotten how long he'd spent in this place where sky couldn't be seen. He only remembered that initially, when the disease hadn't taken effect, many had attempted escape. Everyone discussed plans heatedly, even fighting fiercely over whose method to employ.
From tricking that red-haired youth into opening the cell door to everyone simultaneously using brute force to violently breach the entrance!
But they had all failed without exception. The red-haired youth had appeared only once and never returned.
Except for someone occasionally throwing food through a small passage, no one showed concern for this place, as if they had all been forgotten.
And brute force held no practical meaning whatsoever; this accursed cage was truly of exceptional quality.
The bars hadn't even bent slightly from top to bottom, filling everyone with despair.
Just when everyone thought they'd been forgotten and were being raised like livestock, the nightmare had still manifested.
Initially, only one person experienced severe pain throughout their body, faint gray spots beginning to appear on their skin. They felt weakness pervading their being and had difficulty even walking. Then, shortly after, the number displaying identical symptoms slowly began increasing until finally, everyone bore gray spots upon their bodies.
Facing this outcome, whether they were Knights or Great Knights, they all met the same fate!
They could only lie upon the ground, whimpering like diseased animals.
That excruciating pain wasn't constant. At first, it was so agonizing it made people wish for death over continued existence, causing several of the weakest prisoners to choose suicide.
Then the pain rapidly diminished, becoming tolerable for normal individuals, but it would continuously intensify with time's passage, as if automatically adjusting according to the patient's reactions, deliberately prolonging the victim's life.
Pierce still remembered that the first person to recognize this pattern was named Hank—a thin middle-aged man with ordinary features, rumored to be a master thief!
After this realization, that man had soon partnered with a prisoner named Hetto to ambush another captive who possessed Great Knight strength, killing their target directly and using the hardest bones from the corpse to attempt grinding out a key capable of opening the prison cell lock, hoping to escape this hellish place.
But ultimately, he had still failed!
Since the lock faced away from everyone, he couldn't see the keyhole and could only rely on experience to make judgments. This eventually caused the key to become stuck in the keyhole and break off inside, completely blocking it.
His corpse now lay not far from Pierce, having died in obvious agony, still struggling until the very end.
The basement's cool temperature, combined with his Knight-level physique's special properties, had prevented decomposition. Otherwise, an ordinary person would have long since rotted away.
At this moment, only Pierce remained alive within the cage. Those stronger than him, those weaker—all had perished.
Instead, only he, whose strength was neither exceptional nor pathetic, had lingered until now!
He didn't understand the reason for this, but he knew death was imminent, perhaps arriving in the next moment...
Having heard that many people recalled their lives before dying, Pierce considered briefly, then decided to follow tradition.
So he closed his eyes and began reviewing his past.
After a long while, he opened his eyes, a self-mocking smile crossing his lips. With all his remaining strength, he slowly raised his middle finger toward the cage's ceiling:
"What a pile of dog shit..."
Before finishing his words, his heart had already stopped.
His final statement might have referred to his own existence, or perhaps something else entirely.
Ol'ksa, situated in another corner of the estate, seemed to hear Pierce's dying words. He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled softly, "Dog shit isn't terrible. At least it possesses meaning. No one wants to step in it. Many people live entire existences meaninglessly until death. One more of them adds nothing, one less subtracts nothing. After stepping over them, others wouldn't even think to glance back. They're worse than dog shit, lacking even the value of being disgusting. Perhaps they can only be considered air?"
"I don't know if I can become the ultimate victor, standing at the pinnacle of countless dimensions, but I want to live meaningfully, whether for good or ill. I want to etch my name across the entire multiverse. Even if it can't be revered through generations, it must be feared by all beings for eternity, becoming a catastrophe no one can forget."
Ol'ksa dipped his finger into the teacup before him, his mana enveloping several drops of tea, forming a translucent, crystal-clear blood-colored droplet on his fingertip.
With a gentle flick, the water droplet soared into the cloud depths.
Rumble...
Accompanied by thunder rolling across the sky, the already starless heavens were completely shrouded by dark clouds, transforming into pitch-black night where one couldn't see their own hand. Only when lightning writhed within the clouds would faint illumination be revealed.
First came scattered drizzle, then very quickly, it escalated into torrential downpour.
And unlike ordinary rain, it was crimson—as if blood was falling from the heavens, dyeing the entire royal capital red and causing screams of alarm throughout the streets.
Feeling the blood-colored rain streak across his face, Ol'ksa's eyes involuntarily glowed with faint red light. He partially closed his eyes and murmured softly, "It seems I've been suppressing myself too long, becoming inexplicably sentimental. Oh well, consider it a farewell for you test subjects..."
Within the Marton Duchy's Royal Palace.
"Damn it..."
Observing the blood rain outside his window and the panicked crowds shouting everywhere, Jem Woz's expression was extremely grim. This type of anomaly, at the critical juncture before a decisive battle with the Yar Duchy, could only be described as an ominous portent.
It would severely damage the morale of both the Marton Duchy's citizens and military forces!
This represented a major blow to the Marton Duchy. What made him even more frustrated and ready to vomit blood was that he had roughly guessed who orchestrated this blood rain, yet he remained completely powerless, which explained his dark expression.
Baron Duke, standing nearby, noticed his lord's grim countenance. After some consideration, his eyes brightened with inspiration, and he suggested, "What if we postpone the decisive battle's date slightly? We could use time to regain public support, describing this blood rain as heavenly encouragement and calling it a magnificent auspicious sign?"
Jem was stunned upon hearing Baron Duke's words.
Blood rain falling from the sky could be called an auspicious sign?
This was a possibility he had never even considered!
Is that actually feasible?
After careful reflection, he realized it could indeed be accomplished this way. After all, though it appeared ominous, no text explicitly declared it an ill omen!
Since that was the case, if he fabricated a compelling story and proclaimed it a great auspicious sign, who could prevent him?
After working out this strategy, Jem Woz felt overjoyed and immediately instructed Duke to quickly concoct a narrative—preferably one with emotional appeal. Then he would arrange for people to memorize the story and blend into the streets the following morning, spreading their newly crafted tale through rumors!
To steer public opinion in their favor before adverse rumors could even form!