Everyone looked at each other.
We were just about to break you out of prison, and you just… casually walked out on your own like it was nothing?
Allen spoke lightly, "What's going on? How did you guys know to come pick me up here? Telepathy?"
Just then, a muffled voice came from beneath Allen: "Boss, how is it? Can we get out?"
Boss?
Wren, Morgan, and Stella almost simultaneously leaned out of the carriage window and looked down through the manhole.
In the sewer, under the dim light, several figures could vaguely be seen.
They were stacked on top of each other like a human tower. The one at the very top was using his shoulders to support Allen. Looking further down, there were even more people—some bracing themselves against the walls, others standing on their companions' shoulders, forcibly forming a human ladder.
When the prisoners looked up and saw the heads peeking out from the carriage, they were immediately terrified.
"Boss! Go! We'll hold them off!"
Allen waved his hand casually. "No need to worry. They're my people. They're here to pick me up."
The terror on the prisoners' faces instantly turned into shock. They looked at the people in the carriage, then at Allen, unsure how to react.
That thug, Pete, puffed out his chest as if it were only natural. "Of course! As the King of the Prison, when the boss breaks out, there's definitely got to be someone on the outside to receive him!"
Wren and the others couldn't keep their expressions straight anymore.
What the hell happened? You were locked up for just a few days and already became the King of the Prison?
Wren took a deep breath, suppressing her shock, and asked, "You're planning to just climb out like this? Aren't you afraid of drawing attention?"
Allen gave a mysterious smile.
He began counting down.
"Ten."
Everyone exchanged glances.
"Nine."
"Eight."
…
"Five."
"Four."
"Three."
"Two."
"One."
Boom—
A massive disturbance suddenly erupted from Stormwind Prison in the distance.
Screams, shouts, and the sound of things overturning all mixed together, as if a pot had exploded.
Immediately after, countless gray figures poured out from the prison gates and windows.
It was a massive swarm of rats, a dense, black tide flooding out of the prison like a wave.
The guards were scared out of their wits—some dropped their weapons and ran, some climbed to higher ground screaming, and others simply rolled their eyes back and fainted.
The entire prison descended into chaos.
Taking advantage of the confusion, Allen lightly jumped up, leaping out from beneath the manhole.
Wren's gaze landed on him, and she froze slightly.
Despite having just come up from the sewer, Allen was completely clean.
Though travel-worn, it only made him look… like he carried a kind of fractured fragility.
Wren looked away.
The coachman had already blown the whistle. Fortunately, the horses obediently returned. The coachman quickly fastened the reins, moving with the speed and efficiency of a seasoned thief.
Before leaving, Allen lowered his head again and spoke to the prisoners below the manhole: "After I'm gone, you guys need to reform yourselves properly. Do it well, and once you're out, come work for me. If not—"
He paused.
"Sooner or later, I, Allen Prestor, will return to Stormwind Prison. When that time comes, whoever it is won't have a good ending. Pass these words to everyone!"
A loud chorus of responses came from below the manhole.
Then those figures silently retreated back into the darkness, even carefully putting the manhole cover back in place.
Not a single prisoner took the chance to escape.
The carriage immediately made its escape, heading toward the end of the street.
Inside the carriage, Stella pounced forward, her little face full of concern: "Benefactor! Are you okay after these past few days?!"
Wren looked Allen up and down, the corners of her lips lifting slightly with a hint of teasing: "More than okay, if you ask me—you've even put on some weight."
Allen's expression changed slightly. He seriously looked down at himself, then back at Wren.
"Really? Did I gain weight?"
Wren met his serious gaze. Looking at that handsome face faintly glowing in the dim carriage light, suddenly—
She lowered her head and didn't answer.
Stella shook her head vigorously. "No, no! Benefactor clearly lost weight! You got much thinner!"
Allen reached out and gently patted Stella's head, a trace of apology in his eyes: "Sorry. I said I'd take you to make big money a few days ago, and now we've suddenly become wanted criminals."
He then looked at Morgan, his gaze carrying the same apology.
Stella narrowed her eyes, enjoying the head pat, her little face full of satisfaction: "It's fine, it's fine! I absolutely believe in Benefactor! There's no way you're some ugly, evil black dragon!"
Morgan didn't speak. He just nodded lightly.
But that nod carried weight.
Wren lifted her head and asked, "So what do we do next?"
Allen didn't answer. He pulled the curtain open slightly, his gaze passing over the rooftops and streets under the night sky, settling on the towering Stormwind Keep.
The castle's spires glowed coldly under the moonlight. Of its many windows, only a few were lit.
"I'm certain that decree wasn't issued by him personally."
His voice was calm, but filled with conviction.
"We're going to save Varian."
...
Stormwind Keep.
At the end of a corridor, two groups stood facing each other.
Marshal Windsor stood there, fully armed guards behind him. His face was grim, his gaze sharp as he stared directly at the people opposite him.
Malathrom stood at the other end of the corridor, followed by a group—some dressed as nobles, some like guards, and several in black robes.
"Marshal, are you going to defy orders?" Malathrom's voice was sharp and arrogant.
Windsor didn't move an inch.
"Unless I see the king himself, I will not allow anyone to enter the treasury of Stormwind Keep."
He spoke slowly and deliberately, every word carrying weight.
"And Lord Malathrom, I expect to see His Majesty here in person tomorrow. Otherwise—"
He paused, a cold glint flashing in his eyes.
"I will lead the army to formally move for the dismissal of your regency council."
A trace of unnaturalness flashed across Malathrom's face.
The face was still that same face—but the curve of his smile was stiff, and the movement of his eyes sluggish.
A figure standing at his side slowly raised his gaze.
That was Teron.
He wore the flesh he had taken from Heleni's husband—a completely ordinary middle-aged man, with an unremarkable face and average build. But deep within his eyes, green flames flickered silently.
He was already struggling to restrain his anger.
Damn Windsor.
Malathrom had already been transformed into an undead by Teron.
The lord quite liked his new identity. He believed it to be a new life bestowed upon him by the beautiful Lady Katrana.
He had become eternal. He could enjoy power, wealth, and everything this decaying world had to offer—forever.
So he continued to pretend to be alive, secretly manipulating the regency council.
As for Varian, he was currently being controlled by Katrana's remaining servants, imprisoned deep within the royal chambers.
By all logic, he should have been able to achieve his goal with ease—retrieve the Book of Medivh stored in Stormwind, and then leave this damned human city.
But because of Windsor—this stubborn fool—who insisted on seeing King Varian in person before allowing passage…
It had dragged on for far too long.
The green flames in Teron's eyes grew colder.
He was running out of time.
It seemed—
He would have to prepare a direct assault.
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