Chapter 286: 286| If They Went Through The Trouble Of Printing And Plastering These Posters, It Means Rianor Hasn’t Been Executed

​Roland turned slowly.

​Behind him, Dom, Naya, Adul, and Eva stood petrified. Their faces were ashen, chests heaving as their bodies struggled to process the sheer shock of what had just transpired. Yet, every pair of eyes was glued to Roland, waiting for a single command.

​Far in the distance, the Colosseum still spewed thick black smoke into the air. And at the far edge of the city, the silhouette of Magniora Tower loomed arrogantly, piercing the night sky.

​"We can’t go back to the inn," Roland stated. His voice was frighteningly flat, slicing through the chill of the night air. "Find a new hideout. Now."

​No one argued. Dom gave a stiff nod, pulled up the hood of his coat, and stepped forward to clear a path.

​They moved like phantoms through the silence, putting distance between themselves and the Colosseum’s radius. The streets of the Luminara Capital were dead. The magical light crystals on the lampposts hadn’t been ignited. Perhaps the guards were still scrambling at the arena. Perhaps the mana grid had short-circuited from the demonic assault.

​Whatever the reason, the darkness tonight was their greatest ally.

​Dom took point, guided by the razor-sharp instincts honed only by veteran soldiers. He stopped in front of an abandoned shop. Crunch. Broken glass littered the floor. But its position was too close to the main thoroughfare. Too many patrol routes. Dom gave a silent shake of his head and moved on.

​The second building. A vacant wooden house. But from the outside, Dom’s nose already caught the stench of urine. Inside, three vagrants immediately stared at them, trembling. Dom backed away slowly. Creak. He closed the door again. Even the smallest conflict was an unnecessary variable right now.

​The third building. An old warehouse on the slum outskirts.

​A two-story structure with high, shattered windows. One of the door hinges was snapped, leaving it hanging half-open. The thick scent of dust, rotting wood, and rust instantly assaulted their senses.

​Dom slipped in first. His eyes scanned every dark corner, every pillar, every stack of crates. Empty. No traces of recent human activity.

​"Clear. In here," Dom whispered.

​Roland entered without a second of hesitation, followed by the rest.

​Inside, the warehouse was relatively spacious. There were only a few stacks of empty wooden crates in the corner, rat-chewed burlap sacks, and a thick layer of dust that kicked up into plumes with every step. The roof was still intact.

​Naya guided Adul to sit on one of the wooden crates. Thump.

​The boy’s face was still horrifyingly pale. His vacant gaze drilled into the dusty floorboards. Naya knelt, checking his injuries with nimble hands. Scraped knees, blue bruises on his arms. Physically, nothing fatal.

​However, Adul’s hands were shaking violently. His teeth bit into his lower lip so hard it nearly drew blood.

​"Are you alright, Dul?" Naya asked softly, her voice uncharacteristically gentle.

​Adul opened his mouth, then closed it again. Gulp. He wanted to ask. About Lord Rianor. About their fate tomorrow. About whether they were going to live. But his vocal cords felt as if they were being strangled. Finally, the boy just gave a stiff, jerky shake of his head.

​Naya sighed. She gently patted Adul’s trembling shoulder. No empty words of comfort. Just a single touch of empathy.

​Adul hung his head low. A single tear fell, hitting the dusty floor. But he didn’t sob. Instead, he bit his lip harder, forcing his tears back down.

​Near the half-open entrance, Eva leaned her back against the faded wall. Her eyes monitored the dead streets outside.

​There was no stampede of knights chasing them. Not yet. But her killer’s instinct knew exactly what was happening—out there, the Church’s bloodhounds were already being slipped from their leashes.

​And Roland?

​The man simply stood frozen in the middle of the dim room. Motionless. Silent. His ice-cold eyes stared straight through the glassless window, locking his gaze entirely on the distant shadow of Magniora Tower.

​"L-Lord..." Adul finally forced his voice out. Hoarse. "Lord Roland, are you okay?"

​"I am perfectly fine."

​"But... L-Lord Rianor..."

​"I know."

​Roland’s voice didn’t waver in the slightest. It remained flat. Unshakably calm.

​And ironically, that absolute tranquility was exactly what made the hairs on the back of Adul’s neck stand on end.

​Eva turned her head slowly. Her eyes pierced Roland’s back. "So, what exactly is our next move?"

​Roland didn’t answer immediately. He kept staring at that hellish tower.

​"Dom. Naya."

​The two bodyguards reflexively straightened their backs.

​"Return to the Colosseum perimeter. Find our carriage. Retrieve all of our equipment from inside. Everything."

​Naya frowned in disagreement. "Huh? Tonight? The area around the Colosseum must be swarming with hundreds of guards by now."

​"Precisely because of that," Roland turned his head slightly, eyeing Naya from the corner of his eye. "They are busy cleaning up the mess. They won’t notice two phantoms moving in their blind spots."

​Dom—who was usually the most economical with his words—finally interjected with a heavy tone. "And if we are discovered, My Lord?"

​Roland turned his body entirely. Staring directly into Dom’s pupils.

​"Do not be discovered."

​Silence.

​One second. Two seconds. Dom bowed his head with a stiff nod. He needed no further explanation.

​Naya rubbed her face in frustration. Haaah. "Alright, I suppose this is a death order. But why the rush to grab all that gear right this second?"

​Roland turned his back again, returning his gaze out the window. "The enemy of our enemy... is a friend."

​Naya went silent, waiting for him to elaborate. But Roland remained mute. Naya glanced at Dom, who had already begun his silent march toward the exit. With a soft click of her tongue, Tch, Naya pulled up her hood and followed him.

​The two of them melted into the thick of the night.

​Eva pushed herself off the wall. "You want to find the Pagan Order."

​Roland didn’t answer. But in this situation, silence was the loudest confirmation.

​Eva hesitated for a moment. Her fingers gripped the hilt of her sword. "Back in Sanctum... I never cared about their grand objective, Roland. I was just a street rat tagging along because I had no other roof over my head."

​Roland looked at Eva from the side. "And? What about now?"

​Eva fell silent for a long time. She didn’t answer, but she also didn’t look away from Roland’s piercing gaze. That was answer enough.

​"I was just a low-ranking member," Eva sighed softly, wiping her sweaty neck. "I never set foot in the Capital. I don’t know who their secret contacts are here. I don’t know where their base is. I truly know nothing."

​"You know the shape of their symbols."

​"Yeah, that’s it."

​"That is more than enough for us to start."

​Eva swallowed hard. There was something churning in Roland’s eyes tonight. Something she had never witnessed before. Not the grief of losing a brother. Not the fiery rage of a blood vendetta. But something far more precise. As cold and sharp as a freshly honed scalpel.

​"I... will help you find them," Eva finally said, lowering her head slightly. "But I won’t promise any results."

​"I never asked you to promise."

​Time crawled slowly.

​Adul finally collapsed. He slept curled up on a hard wooden crate, his mental exhaustion overriding his fear. Before leaving, Naya had draped a spare burlap sack over his shoulders to ward off the chill.

​Eva sat cross-legged near the broken door. Occasionally, she closed her eyes, but her ears remained on high alert. She wasn’t truly sleeping.

​And Roland? The man hadn’t shifted a single centimeter from his post by the window. Still staring at Magniora Tower. Frozen like a gargoyle.

​Scuff. Tap.

​The sound of soft footsteps approached from outside.

​Eva shot up instantly, her dagger in her grip with lightning speed. But the next second, she relaxed. She recognized the rhythm of those steps. Too heavy and steady for ordinary Church soldiers.

​The door opened slowly. Dom and Naya slipped inside.

​Dom was carrying a massive canvas bundle strapped to his back with thick rope. Thud. He set it down on the floor carefully to avoid kicking up dust. Naya quickly closed the remnants of the door behind them.

​"Did you get everything?" Roland asked, finally turning around.

​"Cleaned out entirely, My Lord," Dom reported, his breathing only slightly labored.

​Naya wiped cold sweat from her temple. "Our carriage had been towed by the guards to the side of the road. Fortunately, their brains were too dull to check the secret compartment beneath the floorboards. We dismantled it before they could conduct a secondary sweep."

​"Did anyone spot your movements?"

​"No. But we definitely spotted theirs." Naya looked at Roland seriously. "My Lord, the situation outside is pure insanity. Guards are swarming every intersection. Panic curfews are in effect. And the worst part... they’ve started plastering wanted posters on the walls of the plazas."

​Roland’s face betrayed zero emotion. "And?"

​Dom reached into his pocket slowly, handing over a neatly folded piece of parchment. Without a word.

​Roland accepted it. Rustle. He unfolded the paper.

​Adul, who had woken up from the sound of their footsteps, rubbed his sticky eyes. "Ugh... L-Lord Roland, what is that paper?"

​Roland didn’t answer Adul. His eyes scanned the contents of the parchment.

​A sketch of a face. Rough, drawn from the memories of eyewitnesses, but its distinct features captured Roland’s likeness with terrifying accuracy. Beneath the sketch, written in thick, blood-red ink:

​DEMONIC KNOWLEDGE.

WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE.

BOUNTY: 50,000 GOLD COINS.

​The atmosphere in the warehouse suddenly turned suffocating. Everyone held their breath.

​Eva reflexively clenched her fists tight. Adul covered his mouth with both hands, his eyes wide with horror. Naya stared at Roland with absolute vigilance. Even Dom, the walking wall who never showed emotion, tightened his jaw until the veins in his neck popped.

​Roland stared at the poster for a long time. Three seconds. Five seconds.

​Then... incredibly slowly... the corners of Roland’s lips curled upward.

​It wasn’t a warm smile. Nor was it a mocking sneer. It was merely a muscular twitch that articulated an impossibly cold satisfaction.

​"Excellent," Roland whispered softly.

​Adul jolted in place. "Huh?! M-My Lord... what part of this is excellent?!"

​Roland folded the poster back up with meticulous care, not leaving a single crease.

​"Listen to me, Adul," he said calmly. "If they went through the trouble of printing and plastering these posters... it means Rianor hasn’t been executed at the Colosseum."

​Roland set the paper down on an overturned wooden crate. "If they’re offering a bounty this massive... it means they haven’t even had the time to throw him into the inner cells yet."

​Roland lifted his gaze, looking at his companions one by one.

​"And if the Church is terrified enough to broadcast this bounty across the entire city tonight... it means we still have plenty of time."

​No one dared to speak. Roland’s cold logic effectively silenced all panic.

​Roland turned around, looking back into the darkness outside the window. Magniora Tower still stood there. Pitch-black. Silent. Waiting to be brought down.

​"Get enough sleep tonight. Tomorrow, our hunt begins."