I'm fighting Kal'tsit? Really?

As Saria finished speaking, she had already silently come to an answer in her heart: "But if you can indeed see things that ordinary people cannot see, even though this speculation goes against reason and logic—it is indeed a reasonable explanation for all your strange behavior so far."

“I’m very curious.” After a period of internal torment, Gerald slowly raised his face, his tone full of curiosity: “How did they describe me in the files? What’s left?”

“Not many,” she said.

"He joined the army in Kazimierz at the age of fourteen, and his record after that is almost zero. He was confirmed to have died on the battlefield in western Ursus about three years ago, and then returned to Kazimierz six months later as a 'dead man'. Six months later, he came to Colombia and skinned and dismembered a capitalist who once belonged to Kazimierz."

“Hmph.” Gerald shrugged. “That basically covers it all.”

The library, once a place for quiet study, now only retains the echoes of Gerald's words, which eventually faded into silence.

Seria didn't speak or ask any questions. She knew that some people's past should not be mentioned and should be buried in history.

But Gerald still spoke up.

“People who have lost their loved ones are prone to making mistakes.” He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “I’m not referring to myself. Apart from not being able to spend more time with my family, I don’t think I’ve made any wrong choices in my life.”

"It's just that because we're never strong enough, the outcome is always unsatisfactory."

"Yes."

he said softly.

"It's never quite satisfactory."

Chapter Fifteen! Bang Bang Ka Bang~! New teammates are about to appear!

Compared to usual, this morning was indeed quite busy.

The feeling of being able to use Originium Arts in prison was novel, and he tested the cloth a few times, with unsurprisingly confusing results.

First of all.

Just as Saria had previously misunderstood, this piece of cloth did not exist in the eyes of others.

Even when touched, it still feels like skin, and Saria later went to the monitoring room to observe through the machinery and got the same result.

Secondly, compared to using Originium Arts to bypass the jammer, this cloth is more like allowing him to access Originium itself in a purer way.

Because everyone knows that Originium Arts is a method by which humans guide the energy in Originium into a specific form and use it for a special purpose.

The key here lies in this "guidance," which is also why Saria was so surprised and concluded that he was hallucinating.

He is not infected.

There are no Originium crystals inside or on the surface of his body, yet he can use Originium Arts out of thin air, just like grabbing a hamburger out of thin air and starting to eat it. This is simply impossible—unless he carries some carefully crafted casting medium containing small, high-purity Originium crystals.

Or, according to some rumors he had heard, there are some “giant beasts” in this world that possess the ability to wield power.

However, this situation is obviously too unrealistic for such a weak Pegasus.

Consistent with the first inference, the color of the cloth would dim slightly each time Originium Arts were used, and the black and red on it would gradually turn into a completely black as the intensity of the Originium Arts increased.

Perhaps when the mystery above is no longer there, no matter what past this relic carries, it will eventually be discarded as a useless piece of rag.

But this raises two questions.

First, why does this cloth show such a clear reaction to liquids, especially blood? And is it possible to restore its 'color' through testing?

second.

Considering that this piece of cloth is invisible to others, or that its effect is part of his bodily functions...

If we want to continue dreaming and continue acquiring these unknown relics...

What will he eventually become?

--------

The bell, signaling the start of the afternoon workday, rang, and Gerald had already returned to his room.

It took him fifteen minutes to tidy up a clean spot in his messy little apartment, where he sat cross-legged and read the book in his hand.

Now that he knew the cloth could only be used a limited number of times, he saw no need to waste those opportunities.

One of the advantages of staying in Zone C is that prisoners from Zones A and B will come up to clean Zone C.

After all, everyone here wears heavy shackles to prevent any possibility of violence. They are not even allowed to work and are simply left there to rot and stink.

One of the reasons Mansfield became Columbia’s pilot prison is that it would take in prisoners that most prisons would avoid.

A ruthless killer, cold-blooded and merciless, a smooth talker skilled at deception.

No matter what crimes they had committed before, after being imprisoned in this prison, they could no longer continue their legendary careers.

Gerald hadn't personally witnessed the specific treatment of other prisoners in Sector C, but he was certain it wasn't a good thing. Otherwise, he wouldn't have remained a stranger to a single 'real' Sector C prisoner until now.

Boom, boom, boom.

As the elevator arrived at the floor, heavy footsteps came from afar, and Gerald knew that Anthony had returned.

The tall figure was carried back to his cell by two prison guards, but when he saw the rubble scattered everywhere, Anthony could not maintain his composure and sighed deeply.

There wasn't even room to stand in the huge room. He endured the pain from the small pebbles under his feet and stepped back to his bed using his furry animal paws.

After the two prison guards, suppressing their laughter, looked at the large hole in the room and each added a shackle to the wall, they coughed a few times. One of them explained:

"Ahem, although we're all acquaintances, the prisoners from sections A and B who are coming over later aren't. Barton just told us that these chains are simply to make them less afraid. There's so much rubble today, we need to finish quickly, we don't have time to let them hold back."

Another prison guard rested his baton on his shoulder and chatted familiarly: "Hey, it's mainly because a few new guys have arrived. Some old guys are deliberately describing Sector C as a place that eats people alive, just waiting to see us make a fool of ourselves... Oh, right, Gerald, I'm the one who's bringing people to clean up here, along with your lover."

"Those shackles are just for show. They'll come off with a little effort. If we're going to do anything, we should be careful not to give ourselves away. Maybe we can even have some fun with them, hehe."

It turned out to be the case.

Gerald nodded thoughtfully. It seemed that Patton had indeed taken his words to heart this morning, having devised a testing method in just one morning.

However, upon hearing this, Anthony frowned slightly, but he did not react on the spot, instead silently maintaining his polite demeanor.

After the two prison guards left, he couldn't help but look at the figure behind the large hole: "That's not a good description."

Anthony had expected Gerald to show some anger upon hearing the word, even though he had never seen the man angry before.

After all, his friend had recently become quite close to a prison guard, and when he went to the library to read, he would sometimes see Gerald interacting with the guard.

That's just how love is.

Even if you meet the right person at the wrong time, these emotions are never something you can control.

And even if we take a step back and assume that they are still just friends, what he said is not wrong. No one would not be angry if a friend was called that.

The implication is—look how much everyone's gossiping about you two, why don't you quickly clarify your relationship to appease everyone's curiosity?!

“You seem quite indignant about this.” Gerald looked up from his book at the other man, somewhat speechless. “I suggest you rein in the gossip in your eyes before asking any questions.”

“In that case, I apologize for my rudeness.” Anthony feigned politeness. “So, you don’t deny that you and that lady had a…beautiful encounter?”

“If you’re referring to these anatomical illustrations in the book,” Gerald flipped to the last few pages to show the other person the gruesome scenes, “they are indeed quite beautiful, and perhaps some people with unusual fetishes might like them, but I’m certainly not one of them.”

“Ah, a former doctor who enjoys sharing his books.” Anthony nodded. “A very elegant hobby, and also quite fortunate to have found someone in prison with whom to share common topics. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised by the unusually close distance between you two.”

"[Too intimate a distance]?"

“I’m sorry, this wording sounds a bit vague.” Anthony organized his thoughts, “but there are just too many specific examples. I saw her sitting next to you the day before yesterday, and the two of you were writing and drawing on paper at the same time.”

Oh, hehe.

The test paper from the day before yesterday had a few insane questions... Damn it, Saria, seeing that he was about to finish reading the book ahead of schedule, she used some super difficult questions to test him.

I should have done something else this morning; I should have at least taught her a lesson about her temper.

"Shut up, Anthony."

Gerald retorted: "A playboy who has never experienced love is talking about this. He may not be better at talking than anyone else, but he's never tried anything in real life, has he?"

"If possible, I hope you can rephrase this sentence to mean 'waiting for a kindred spirit'... perhaps."

Anthony fell silent as they talked.

The shackles on his body constantly reminded him that he should not forget the fact that he was in prison, nor should he forget what he should do.

For him, lovers and soulmates were luxuries, and he wasn't even sure if he could escape to the future.

Just then, Gerald's ears twitched twice, and a hint of confusion appeared on his face.

"What's wrong?" Anthony asked, noticing his friend's expression.

“Something’s not right.” He listened carefully to the sounds the wind carried to him, then glanced again at the large hole between the cells. His doubts gradually turned into caution. “The clanging of metal in the pockets, well hidden… Some prisoners are carrying weapons.”

"There are twelve steps in total. Apart from the two prison guards, most of them are very weak, but there are two that you have to deal with seriously."

Gerald looked up at his friend.

He recalled the explanation Seria had given him when they first met.

"Ha, so someone really is coming to kill you, Anthony."

Chapter Sixteen: Only Death Doesn't Lie (4K)

The footsteps that came were not orderly, and the sound of Saria's heavy boots hitting the ground caught his attention.

She placed her weight and pace perfectly, as did her breathing, a symbol of a warrior's constant vigilance and a textbook example of reaction.

One of the prisoners was small, and likely a habitual thief, carrying many small metal parts that made a slight clinking sound from his hair and heels.

Her steps were light and quick, always with a slight dragging motion, and she habitually tried to conceal the sound of her footsteps—a habit of the lower-class gangs in Colombian cities, who liked to parkour on street corners and disguise themselves to blend into the crowd.

The other prisoner seemed somewhat out of place.

Her steps were light, yet not professional. The items in her pockets were clearly meticulously assembled; such assembly skills were rarely seen among prisoners. She wasn't an assassin, nor a professional weapons maker, but rather more like a police officer... or perhaps a bodyguard?

None of the rest need special attention.

These two weren't particularly skilled, but the remaining armed prisoners were simply too low-class. You could tell from their footsteps that they were just recklessly aggressive fighters. Even if you sent them to cause trouble for Duma, they would be dead beyond redemption.

"Someone is coming to kill me, I understand."

Anthony's expression shifted rapidly from a moment of confusion to a swift movement. He immediately sat up straight, ready for battle. "I'll follow your orders. Is there anything I need you to do now?"

"Don't rush." ​​Gerald placed the book under his pillow, closed his eyes to rest, and said, "To avoid you overthinking, we'll talk about other things after this is over. The tactic is to wait for their reaction, not to make a move immediately."

There is a fundamental difference between suicide squad members and those who are brought in by money.

The difference is that the latter is not worth mentioning at all.

------

The light in the corridor shone on the prison guard leading the prisoners toward Section C, casting an endlessly long shadow that enveloped the crowd behind him like a lingering dark cloud.

This shadow weighed heavily on Robin's heart.

She has a simple and unpretentious story: her parents divorced, and after her father's business collapsed, he became an alcoholic and ended up in the hospital. So this filial daughter took on a difficult task and went to the prison to try to kill a... powerful prisoner.

What might be considered a trivial matter on this land can, when it happens to any one person, become a heavy mountain, weighing them down and making it impossible for them to lift their heads.

However, after actually entering prison, she realized that the problem was more serious than she had imagined.

If Anthony was a "free prisoner" in the prison, someone even those in Blocks A and B would respect, then his well-known friend, Gerald, who lived next door to him, was a different story.

It's a monster you absolutely must not mess with, even if it means death.

Rumors about him spread widely below. At first, it was said that he "found his enemies in the villa and dismembered them." Later, it gradually became that he "carried out a massacre in downtown Columbia, piled up the heads to form a mound of skulls, and it was not until the vice president arrived with the army that the massacre was suppressed and sealed in Mansfield."

Otherwise, no one can explain why he was able to disregard so many prison rules, even though Patton treated him kindly.

Today, their job is not like that of ordinary prisoners, who simply clean the C area.

They needed to clean up the remaining rubble from the partition wall between the two cells.

In other words, someone broke down the wall, and it certainly wasn't Anthony who always followed the rules and was polite... Just thinking about it like that makes it clear where those rumors came from.

Assuming this actually happened, these hired assassins would be running head-on into a powerful man who could smash through a wall of molten alloy with his bare hands—

Robin gripped the dagger in her hand tightly, and in her pocket were the traps she had hastily assembled over the past few days.

To pay for her father's medical expenses, she had no choice but to gamble everything on this matter.

That's all.

While she was still lost in thought, pondering where to set the trap next, she soon bumped into the prison guard at the front of the line.

Instead of being disturbed, she felt as if she had crashed into a solid wall, and stumbled and fell to the ground.

puff.