I can evolve everything

The next second, Renn suddenly felt his head go heavy. The breathing technique in his body did not subside with the end of the battle; instead, it intensified.

As Harold's shape became increasingly blurry in his field of vision, darkness suddenly surged in like a tide.

thump.

The last thing that remained in my ears was a muffled thud, and I seemed to hear a gasp from a half-elf girl.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

After an unknown period of time, Renn gradually began to feel something.

The process of returning to consciousness is very slow, like slowly surfacing in the deep sea.

The first sense to awaken is smell.

Raine didn't smell the blood and burnt smell in the study. Instead, there was a faint fragrance, like some kind of flower, or like the scent of a spring meadow.

Ryan's fingers twitched, and his fingertips seemed to touch something soft.

"woke up?"

A cheerful voice rang in my ears, "When you first collapsed, I thought you had gloriously sacrificed yourself."

Raine struggled to open his eyes.

What came into view was the ceiling of the guest room and a face that was very close to it.

His instinctive defensive reaction almost made Ryan throw a punch, but after seeing the face clearly, he stopped himself.

That was Ella sitting on the edge of the bed, her ruby-like eyes fixed on him, holding a feather she'd gotten from somewhere, seemingly about to shove it up his nostril.

Seeing that Raine was awake, she seemed completely unaware, casually tossed the feather aside, and sat up straight.

"You slept for three hours. I was so bored I started counting the fibers on the carpet."

Raine tried to sit up, but all his muscles ached terribly.

In his memory, the only cost of using [Lava Amplification] was an increase in body temperature. So this must be the price of overusing [Breathing Technique] itself, a result of excessive depletion.

"Water..." Ryan's throat was parched.

Ella deftly poured a glass of water and handed it to him. Watching Ryan gulp it down, she rested her chin on her hand and slowly spoke.

"Your move in the study just now was pretty cool."

Ella wasn't very tall, or perhaps the beds at Harold's mansion were a bit too high, so she could swing her legs while sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I felt your power surged at least three times back then, even your skin turned red... Was that a breathing technique? I never expected a novice knight with thick eyebrows and big eyes like you to have learned it."

Ryan stopped drinking instantly. He put down his cup and looked at Ella warily.

While it's natural for both of them to learn breathing techniques as apprentice knights, Rein only managed to learn it thanks to his special abilities and his own hard work. If Ella finds out...

"Don't be so tense, like a hamster guarding its food."

Ella seemed to read his mind and rolled her eyes.

"Everyone has breathing techniques, it seems. I practice the 'Wind Whisperer Breathing Technique'."

She leaned closer to Raine, lowered her voice, and said mysteriously, "The quality is 'perfect,' you know. It's probably a little bit more advanced than the breathing technique you have at home."

Renn was stunned.

In this world, breathing techniques are categorized by quality as: rudimentary, excellent, perfect, and legendary.

The Wilder family's "Black Rock Breathing Technique" is merely "excellent," while the one she casually pulls out is "perfect"?

Seeing Ryan's discomfitured expression, Ella seemed quite satisfied and patted Ryan on the shoulder.

"So don't worry about me copying you. I wouldn't even consider it."

She paused, stopped joking, and unusually, became serious with a stern expression.

"However, the side effects of that condition must have been quite severe, right? Don't push yourself so hard next time. It's not worth risking your life for that kind of old man."

Renn remained silent for a moment, feeling the soreness yet still abundant power within his body.

"It's worth it," he said in a low voice. "If we hadn't fought, that sword strike would have killed more than just that old man."

Ella shrugged. "Fine, chivalry."

Raine stretched his neck. His head was still a little foggy when he woke up, but after chatting with Ella, his consciousness gradually cleared, and he recalled everything that had happened.

"What's the situation now? Where's Sir Karen? Is Harold dead?"

"He's not dead, but he's not far from it."

Ella pointed to the door, her tone becoming somewhat subtle.

"Sir Karen is in the study right now. He's guarding it and has sealed it off. Harold has been detained by him."

"Although Baron escaped, who knows if he might come back for a surprise attack. And..." Ella narrowed her eyes, "Sir Karen is truly angry this time. Judging from his expression, if Harold can't provide a reasonable explanation, he'll uphold the knightly code himself without Baron even lifting a finger."

Ryan threw back the covers. His muscles were still sore, but as long as he didn't overexert himself, he could move around without much difficulty.

"Let's go to the study."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The study was in a complete mess.

The broken window continued to let in cold air, making the scattered papers rustle.

Harold was no longer restrained, but he remained slumped behind the desk. The marks on his neck had turned a purplish-black, a horrifying sight.

At this moment, he had lost all trace of the authority of a sheriff; he looked like a withered old man.

Karen stood with her back to the door, in front of the window, the greatsword stuck in the floor beside her.

Hearing footsteps, Karen turned around.

Seeing that although Renn was pale, he was not seriously injured, the old knight's tense face finally relaxed a little.

"Are you alright?"

"It's alright, Sir." Ryan nodded and walked into the room with Ella, closing the door that had almost been broken during the battle behind him.

The atmosphere in the room was quite suffocating.

Karen turned around, her gaze fixed on Harold.

"Right now, there are only the four of us here."

Karen's voice was soft, but to Harold it sounded more biting than the cold wind outside.

"I've also sent your guards to the outer perimeter. Harold, for the sake of our decades-long friendship, I'll give you one last chance."

The old knight pointed to the broken hemp rope on the ground.

"Why would Barron want to kill you? Don't give me that 'lynching' nonsense. He's a madman, a complete madman. He's killed a lot of people over the years, but every time, he had a reason. He'd rather face the entire town's guards to rush in and kill you. What's his reason?"

Harold lowered his head, staring blankly at the floor.

silence.

A long silence followed.

Just when Ryan thought he would remain silent forever, the old man finally spoke.

"It's me..."

Harold's voice, which had narrowly escaped hanging, was even hoarseer and more broken than before, as if he had a mouthful of sand.

"It was the commission I posted. Those adventurers... I'm the one who lured them into the depths of the swamp."

Although he had already guessed the truth, hearing Harold admit it with his own ears still made Ryan feel a sinking feeling in his heart.

"I did add poison to the potion." Harold raised his head, his cloudy eyes bloodshot, the previous kind pretense long gone, replaced by numbness. "That was to control them, to prevent them from discovering any clues and lest they trace it back to me."

"For whom?" Karen stepped forward, pressing for an answer. "Who are you providing materials to? What is the source of those undead creatures in that swamp?"

Harold gave a bitter laugh, raised his hand, and pointed north.

"A necromancer. Mars, who was wanted a few years ago."

"Three years ago, he fled here and was found by my patrol. He was seriously injured and almost died."

Upon hearing this, Karen immediately interrupted Harold's narration: "You caught him? Why didn't you execute him? Or report him to the court?"

"I..." Harold closed his eyes in anguish, "I made a deal with him."

"I provided him with shelter and a place to conduct my experiments—a small cabin deep in the swamp. And he... he promised to do something for me."

"So, Baron was hunting this necromancer?" Ella interjected, "and then discovered you were protecting him?"

“Yes.” Harold nodded. “Baron, that madman… he discovered my connection with that necromancer, so he’s going to try me too.”

The truth has come to light. A classic case of collusion between officials and criminals.

Driven by self-interest, the sheriff protected wanted criminals and even went so far as to harm innocent adventurers to satisfy the necromancer's appetite.

Why?

Karen looked at her unfamiliar old friend with disappointment in her eyes.

"Harold, you weren't like this before. Tell me, are you short of money? Or are you after that so-called power? For that, you've turned yourself into a cannibalistic monster?"

"You don't understand...you don't understand..."

Harold suddenly became agitated. He tried to stand up, but due to his weakness, he slumped back down.

His gaze involuntarily drifted towards the door, seemingly fixed on something unseen.

"I have my reasons... Karen, I have my reasons."

Harold covered his face, his voice choked with emotion.

"Please stop asking...please, stop asking. Leave me with some dignity."

Karen opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but ultimately swallowed it back.

The hand holding the greatsword loosened and tightened again, tightened and loosened again.

If Baron were here, he would have already swung that broadsword down.

But Karen wasn't a madwoman whose head was only filled with the law, especially since the person in front of her was a comrade-in-arms she had fought alongside.

Finally, the old knight let out a long sigh.

That breath seemed to drain all his anger, leaving only exhaustion.

"I won't kill you now."

Karen released the greatsword, turned around, and stopped looking at the weeping old man.

"But I won't let that necromancer get away with it either. That's the bottom line."

He looked out the window at the dark night sky, his voice cold and hard:

"Tomorrow, you lead the way. We'll go deep into the swamp and drag Mars out."

"After this is over..."

Karen paused, her profile appearing particularly resolute in the shadows.

"I will personally escort you to the courthouse in Sunset City. Until then, you'd better pray that Baron doesn't bother you again."

Harold shakily raised his head and looked at his old friend's retreating figure.

"Okay..." he replied softly, his voice growing even lower, "I'll go along with whatever you say."

Raine stood to the side, silently watching this scene.