Raise Joan of Arc to be an empress, then discard her.

However, the warden also knew that prisoners like these were the most ruthless when it came to committing crimes. They wouldn't bow down like commoners for a piece of bread or a glass of wine. These nobles only acted according to their own ideas, so they could never be trusted. And he was an experienced warden who would never be deceived by such a swindler.

The prison guard, Hart, coughed lightly, scratching his nose, which was red and swollen from a night of heavy drinking, and finally looked at the documents in his hands. There were two documents, one white and one black. The white one was an arrest warrant personally issued by King Hobbes, only a few pages long. As the man had said, it listed crimes such as deceiving the king, which were capital offenses in the Twin Towers Kingdom as well. But the warden knew that the key was the black judgment document below, which was issued directly by the Inquisition.

The Inquisition was an institution of their country, and in their country, it was the most authoritative organization besides the king.

The Inquisition's judgments are generally divided into four levels. White is the lowest, usually just a warning punishment, but enough to make promising young people uneasy. Black is the highest level, meaning that the Papacy will fight to the death to protect God's dignity. This arrogant young man probably doesn't know what kind of heinous crime he has committed. Although King Hobbes is licentious and often throws his ministers into prison based on his likes and dislikes, Blackwater Prison is still the place where the Papacy imprisons heretics, and this man named Kyle Domingo is about to become one of them.

"According to the laws of the Twin Towers and the Justinian Code, Keir Domingo is sentenced to exile for the following crimes." The warden cleared his throat, his expression solemn.

It turns out that heretics were being tried according to the Justinian Code, the supreme law of the Messianic Church. Every crime listed there is a capital offense, punishable by death a thousand times over. Even royalty would have to consider how to spend their lives in prison if they committed just one of those crimes. This guy was imprisoned for violating the Justinian Code and was being subjected to the most severe punishment, excommunication. No wonder they used the black judgment book.

Seeing this, Warden Hart straightened his stout body and looked at the silent young man in front of him with more respect. Although some young people nowadays take pride in rebelling against tradition, there are not many who dare to blaspheme against God. The fact that this young man was personally arrested by the Praetorian Guard and the Inquisition means that he must have committed some shocking crime punishable by death.

Warden Hart squinted, tracing the words of the judgment with his large, fat finger. The first few pages contained information about the man, but when he saw Kyle Domingo's charges, he realized the judgment had ended. He tilted his head slightly, slowly turning the page, but the next moment, this warden, who considered himself a seasoned veteran, narrowed his eyes and revealed a solemn expression. Then, the warden's entire large body trembled involuntarily as he looked at the calm young man before him with an almost horrified, even fearful, gaze.

"Kel Domingo, acting in the name of God, practiced the ways of the devil, using his demonic power to manipulate the court. King Hobbes imprisoned him in Blackwater. The Inquisition investigated and determined him to be a religious heretic, secretly organizing religious terrorism, and during his time in power, attempting to overthrow the government and split the Papacy. The Inquisition ruled that Kel Domingo's crimes were heinous, reaching a level that aroused the wrath of both God and man, including subversion of state power, armed rebellion, splitting the Papacy, heresy, crimes against humanity, and blasphemy…"

The remaining charges, though numerous, were displayed below, but Warden Hart felt dizzy and almost couldn't stand up.

Because these crimes are too numerous and too terrible—crimes that an ordinary person couldn't commit in ten lifetimes—this young man has committed them all in less than twenty years. Moreover, each of these crimes is an unforgivable capital offense, enough to condemn an ​​ordinary person to death hundreds of times over. In countries that haven't abolished the death penalty, he could potentially be executed tens of thousands of times over based on these crimes alone. Such a sinner should be nailed to the ninth circle of hell described in the Divine Comedy, and even if he were to return to the mortal realm, he would be hunted down by the Church for all eternity. He is a thoroughly wicked and vicious individual, perhaps rare even in the entire epic world; he may be witnessing history unfold!

From initial shock to gradual calm, and finally to understanding, the stout warden's expression suddenly turned serious, and he read out the verdict in an almost trembling voice.

"In view of the devilish deeds committed by Keir Domingo, Keir Domingo's name is nailed to Cain's Hell, and Keir Domingo is sentenced to divine punishment by fire, to be carried out at noon tomorrow."

As soon as he finished speaking, the young man whose arms were locked by the God-Suppressing Stone tried his best to raise his head. His expression remained calm. When he tried to straighten his hunched body, all the jailers nervously took a step back. Countless dark gun barrels were pointed at his chest, which was said to be the devil's weak point.

No one dared to let their guard down. The person in front of them was not one of those good-for-nothings from the Twin Towers Kingdom, but a true demon. Everyone felt an immense fear, and the tense atmosphere permeated the prison like a heavy weight. But facing those fearful eyes, the man didn't even glance at them. He just looked up at the sky, his face showing a deep and indifferent expression.

A deep rumble resounded, and the gears beneath the cross began to turn. Huge black stone pillars, like insurmountable chasms, fell from the sky, resembling shackles sealing demons. Watching the man who, until his very last moment, had been desperately trying to look up, the warden made the sign of the cross, stood motionless, closed his eyes reverently, and uttered, "Amen..."

Chapter 255 Kyle

Deep within Tartarus prison, the damp air was filled with the occasional sound of dripping water. As far as the eye could see, there was only darkness, dampness, deathly silence, and lifelessness, as if any glimmer of light here would be an evil.

This is Tartarus Prison, the most notorious prison in the world. The most heinous criminals in the world are imprisoned here. The people here are truly wicked and evil. Every person released will cause nationwide panic. As the people of the Twin Towers curse, if the evil in these criminals were quantified and all of them were released, the evil emanating from this prison would overwhelm the entire world.

And he—Kyr Domingo—was incredibly fortunate to become one of them, receiving the highest level of treatment in Tartarus prison. Not only was he imprisoned in the deepest part of Tartarus, but his food, clothing, and daily necessities were all taken care of by his own people, ensuring he would have no worries for this life or the next. As a follower of God, he would probably be infamous for eternity; as a criminal, he should feel honored, because historically infamous heretics had all been imprisoned here. Just mentioning any one of them could make children cry at night. For example, Archbishop Ignatius, who had split the Papacy and almost succeeded. These historically notorious sinners were frequent visitors here, and without exception, they were all executed here in a spectacular fashion. Those imprisoned here would be embarrassed to greet their fellow inmates in hell unless they had committed some heinous crime.

Unfortunately, he became the lucky one because of someone's behind-the-scenes instigation.

Kyle laboriously raised his neck and glanced around. For someone destined to be burned at the stake at noon the next day, there was probably no time to think about such trivial matters. After all, he was about to be burned at the stake, and before dying, he wanted to do something meaningful. A devout believer would probably pray as much as possible in the remaining time—if the gods hadn't abandoned him by Tartarus, an optimist might reflect on his life and consider whether to utter something memorable before being burned at the stake; a grand enough statement might even mark the beginning of a new era. A resolute heretic should be overjoyed, as he would soon be serving seventy-two virgins in a water-irrigated garden. Unfortunately, the man was neither heretic nor cultist, and probably didn't think he would die, so he simply raised his head silently because he heard footsteps.

Suddenly, the intense flames illuminated the iron bars in front of him, and the raging fire turned the surrounding stone walls a bright red. The man squinted slightly because of the strong light, and heard the sound of strong footsteps beside him.

Although he couldn't perceive the passage of time in his isolated cell, judging from the fact that the guards responsible for watching him hadn't changed shifts yet, he must have been there for no more than three hours. Was this the pot-bellied warden, or King Hobbes who had imprisoned him?

A pair of slender, jade-like legs emerged gracefully from the darkness. A gauze skirt adorned with strands of gold thread revealed her exquisite and slender figure. Her long, black hair was styled into a phoenix bun around her snow-white neck, adding a touch of allure without diminishing her noble and dignified air, as well as the sharp and imposing aura etched into her very bones.

The resounding footsteps grew closer, and the woman arrived at the prison gate, facing the man across the black iron bars. Her retinue of knights stood silently on either side. The dazzling firelight made the man's face appear pale. It was a stark contrast: the upper body of the criminal, naked, was bound to a huge cross, his body wrapped in heavy chains. On the other side of the iron cage stood the most honored and noble princess in the world, Princess Irina of the Lumilia Empire.

"Open the cell door," Irina commanded in an unquestionable tone.

"Yes."

The massive iron bars were opened, and the entourage blocked the passageway on both sides with their burly bodies. Irina gracefully approached the man and said in a mocking tone:

"How does it feel to be the high and mighty imperial advisor one second and a prisoner the next?"

She lowered her head, her gaze falling on the iron chains on the man's body. The chains were engraved with ancient white patterns, the stripes of which stretched endlessly like the waves of a long, ancient sea. In the firelight, these stripes emitted a faint glow.

The Stone of Tartare, the highest honor bestowed upon sinners, is said to be the robes of demons. It is believed that this stone originated in hell and was left behind on earth by demons roaming the world. In the Bible, God used chains made of the Stone of Tartare to imprison fallen angels and cast them into the eternally burning hell. Therefore, the Stone of Tartare is also known as the Stone of Forbidden Gods. As legend says, the shackles made of this mineral can sever the connection between man and the Holy Spirit, turning omnipotent apostles into weak mortals.

The chains binding the man were not only imbued with special divine power, but were also as heavy as mountains. Even the slightest movement required all his strength. When the man tried to lift his head with all his might, the woman found his restrained expression amusing and chuckled softly, a gentle, delicate smile that revealed her delight.

She leaned down to the man's chest, her slender, white fingers almost touching his skin, and stroked the chains on his chest: "These chains were made by imperial craftsmen, and the Tarta Stone is of the finest quality, sourced from the Peloponnese Peninsula. Besides severing the connection between humans and the Holy Spirit, the Tarta Stone is as hard as iron and as heavy as a mountain. Even an apostle of the divine realm would find it difficult to break. But don't worry, I know you're weak, but you are, after all, my dear Imperial Advisor. It's not a waste to have these shackles specially made for you."

She stood up, a faint smile lingering on her face, and said condescendingly, "This is the deepest part of Tartarus Prison, the place people say is closest to hell. Not only is it heavily guarded, but the stone walls are also embedded with divine-suppressing stones, which also prevent your body from moving. So, how about it? Have I made sufficient preparations?"

“Since Your Highness is going to such lengths to come to Tartarus just to see me, it must be because you have something to say that you would chase me to the underworld, or it must be because you have a deep love for me like Orpheus. I don’t think it’s the latter,” the man said.

“I don’t dislike your humor and wit, especially when your intuition is particularly accurate.”

The woman crouched down, her bright face close to the man's, and said with a hint of regret, "No matter how strong your heart is, won't you feel resentful when you think about going to hell tomorrow? Once you're dead, you have nothing left."

She stared into the man's eyes, trying to see any wavering in his pupils, but after a long while, she couldn't find any of the emotions she wanted to see. After a moment of stalemate, Irina sighed as if giving up and said, "Alright, I think you've already guessed it. I came here specifically to see you to give you another option."

Her expression shifted abruptly, and she pronounced like a stern judge, "Kel Domingo must die, for his sins are too numerous to count, intolerable to the laws of heaven. He will surely suffer divine punishment and be eternally burned at the stake." She paused slightly, her expression softening as she gently stroked his face, saying, "But you can live, provided you are no longer yourself. Abandon the name Keel Domingo, abandon everything from your past, become nameless and without a past, and then become mine."

At this point, Irina's slender fingertips slid from the man's chin down to his chest, finally giving a light touch to his abs, as if she had done everything. She stood up and said, "Answer me. You are a smart man and don't need me to say anything more."

Despite this, Irina's coercion and enticement were very successful. Prisons are natural places of threat, especially Tartarus Prison, where everyone who enters experiences immense psychological pressure. Coupled with her identity, her power, and the intricate web of interests, she was confident that she could succeed.

"Is it going to hell, or seizing the last chance to survive?"

Irina believed that anyone would make that one and only decision at that moment.

And so, the man's calm expression finally changed.

"I didn't expect you to come."

In Irina's eyes, the man's gaze seemed very sincere.

“I don’t like divine authority, and I’ve never liked being oppressed by imperial power.”

The man gave a faint smile:

"So I refused."

"Strengthen prison security and maintain 24-hour vigilance."

As soon as the man finished speaking, Irina walked indifferently out of the prison.

"Yes!"

As she was about to leave, Irina turned back and said, "I hope you can remain this calm on the pyre."

With a loud bang, the prison doors slammed shut, the intense flames receded from the iron bars, and hurried footsteps echoed through the prison before the man was once again swallowed by darkness.

Two hours ago, the capital of the Twin Towers

Vivian is very nervous right now.

At this moment, even Vivian, who had a noble title at the age of fifteen, became one of the best among her peers at the age of sixteen, and became a candidate for the King's Royal Guard in just two months, was trembling slightly with excitement.

She saw the Imperial Preceptor again.

In the bustling downtown area, a young girl in a red gauze dress stood blankly in the crowd. All around her were crowds of people, and the sounds of hawking and laughter filled the air. But Vivian could no longer hear any of these sounds. All of this was because of the man standing in the crowd, shrouded in a black robe.

The moment she confirmed it was him, Vivian felt her brain go suffocated from overheating, and her legs trembled uncontrollably from head to toe. This young imperial genius, who had already earned great prestige among his peers and aspired to achieve great things, also felt a suffocating tension when he met the national advisor at the pinnacle of the country.

Vivian had imagined countless times what it would be like to meet the Imperial Advisor, in a magnificent palace, at a banquet for the imperial nobles, but she never expected it to happen so suddenly...

Vivian felt her brain momentarily shut down. At this moment, Vivian was just a girl who was at a loss because she had suddenly met her idol.

"country……!"

Just as her face flushed red and she was about to call out that name, the old man carrying a shoulder pole walked past her. The swaying pole brushed past her as the old man strode away, but Vivian immediately lost her balance and fell forward.

The Imperial Advisor, shrouded in a long black robe, suddenly appeared before her, a large hand steadily supporting her, like a black phantom.

The Grand Preceptor, dressed in black, calmly said, "Once you're in a crowd, you can't stay still. You have to follow the crowd to avoid being bumped into. Come, follow me." With that, the Grand Preceptor gently took her hand and led the stiff girl into the singing and dancing crowd.

Today is National Day, the birthday of the fifth Hobbes. The Röhm Market was already packed with people this morning, all filled with joyous crowds. Everyone was immersed in the festive atmosphere, and Vivian was no exception. However, she unexpectedly ran into the Grand Tutor.

She still felt a sense of unreality; on such a grand holiday, she was actually able to go shopping with the Imperial Advisor—an honor few could attain. Vivian felt she should say something important, at least something, but her brain remained blank, and she couldn't think of anything for a moment. In the end, she could only stammer, "Imperial Advisor... Happy National Day..."

Happy National Day! How has your mother been lately?

The Imperial Advisor's voice was unusually gentle, speaking in a soft and soothing manner that Vivian felt as if she were bathed in a spring breeze. Vivian immediately perked up and said, "My mother is in good health. Although she had some leg problems recently, they were just old ailments. After applying the ointment, she recovered quickly and can now get out of bed."

"Madam contracted her illness when she was young, and although it has become a chronic condition, it may be curable if properly managed. I know that the herbs at Steve's Pharmacy are always very good; they are not only highly effective but also much cheaper than those at Father Rhys's. You can buy the herbs your mother needs there..."

As expected of his respected Imperial Advisor, he eased Vivian's nervousness with just a few words, and was completely unpretentious during the conversation, quickly engaging Vivian in casual conversation.

Although there are ways to cure diseases in this world, high-level superhumans have always been very rare. Even nobles usually use herbal decoctions made from medicinal herbs for treatment. Only in very rare cases can they afford to hire powerful superhumans. However, when she heard the Grand Preceptor introduce the inexpensive medicinal herbs in such detail, Vivian was clearly taken aback. She looked at the Grand Preceptor's profile, which was wearing a silver mask, and said, "Grand Preceptor, you are so knowledgeable about the prices of folk herbs. You are truly learned."

Chapter 256 Magic

The Imperial Advisor paused slightly and smiled, "Isn't it normal for a subject to understand the affairs of the common people?"

"All people are God's children. We, who are closer to God's kingdom, guide them to worship and love God, so that they are not tempted by the devil and are pulled back from the edge of hell. The nobles should set a good example for them and lead people to goodness, so that they will not perish on the day of final judgment, but will have eternal life."

After saying that, Vivian showed a smug look and added, "I got an A grade in the theological exam, which is the highest in the Twin Towers Kingdom. The priest also said that I have a very high religious talent and am suitable to work in the Vatican."

The Grand Preceptor nodded silently, seemingly in appreciation. Just as Vivian was overjoyed with her excellent performance, the man raised his head and looked away.

Vivian followed the Grand Preceptor's gaze to the city gate of the Twin Towers Kingdom. Soldiers in uniform were constantly passing by, their flanks twitching nervously, their expressions agitated. The soldiers' unease infected their mounts; the stallion paced back and forth anxiously before the gate, sending dust swirling in the air amidst shouts and neighing.

Today is the birthday of the fifth Hobbes. At this time of year, the whole country should be immersed in a festive atmosphere. But look at the sky above the capital. It's not even evening yet, and white fireworks are already going off. White doves, representing the Holy Spirit, are flying low in the sky. People are raising their hands and cheering. It's a scene of peace and prosperity, completely out of place with the tense situation outside the city.

"Vivian, how's the dress I asked you to make coming along?" the Grand Preceptor, who was completely shrouded in a black robe, suddenly asked.

Vivian then remembered that a few days ago, when she entered the palace with her mother, the Imperial Advisor had approached them, hoping to have a few close-fitting black tops sewn. However, she was completely overwhelmed by her nervousness at the time and had almost forgotten the content of the conversation between the Imperial Advisor and her mother. She only learned afterward that her mother had given orders to the tailor shop as soon as she returned home, specifically requesting the best tailor and demanding that the tops be sewn overnight and completed before National Day.

Vivian said, "The clothes should be finished and are at the tailor shop now. Shall I take you to pick them up?"

"Is it already done...? It's a bit of a waste." The Imperial Advisor sighed softly.

"The Imperial Advisor?"

Just as Vivian was filled with doubt, a rapid clatter of hooves suddenly came from behind her. But this was only the beginning. In the next instant, the shouts of merchants, the screams of women, and the cries of children mingled together, like a heavy punch slamming into Vivian's brain. Vivian was stunned. When she turned around, trembling, to see the source of the disaster, a terrified crowd surged past her like a torrent. Countless panicked civilians fled past her, and those behind her were chased like animals. Those who couldn't escape were crushed under the hooves of horses. The once bustling street was instantly cleared, leaving only debris and blood rolling on both sides of the street.

Vivian, a candidate in the Royal Guard, was the first to react. Just as Vivian turned around with all her might, trying to warn the man in front of her, her body was suddenly lifted into the air.

Vivian was stunned. She looked down and saw a long, slender hand touch her body, just like the hand that had caught her when she was knocked down by the crowd. The moment she looked up, the Grand Preceptor pushed her body into the air and landed steadily in the fleeing crowd.

In Vivian's view, the man shrouded in mist was suddenly surrounded by countless knights clad in black fish-scale armor. As the yellow sand receded, countless snow-white silver spears shot out from the air, completely surrounding the man in the center.

A woman clad in silver armor stepped gracefully out of the crowd and announced in an unquestionable tone:

"The Inquisition arrested Keir Domingo on charges of heresy and treason."

Hobbes Palace, located in the heart of the Twin Towers capital city, not far from Tartarus Prison, is the most magnificent architectural complex in the capital. Surrounded by all the buildings in the city, the palace complex stretches westward for several kilometers when viewed from the air, like an ancient and majestic dragon silently guarding the city.

Today is King Hobbes's birthday. Just as dawn breaks, the palace comes alive with activity. Servants laugh and chatter as they move between the various corridors, and the palace gates are adorned with lanterns and decorations. On this national day, even the usually dissolute King Hobbes rises unusually early, bathes and changes with the help of his maids, and then comes before the throne to receive the congratulations of his ministers.

National Day is one of the grandest festivals in the Twin Towers Kingdom. On this day, all citizens of the Twin Towers Kingdom put aside their work and sing and dance together. Since the split of the Twin Towers Kingdom, the Hobbes royal family has ruled here for five generations. Although the fifth Hobbes King was incompetent and spent his days drinking and making merry in the palace, this did not have much impact on a small country located in a harsh, cold continent. Most citizens lived a decent life under the order of the Papacy, attending communion at church on weekdays and having a few drinks with friends in the evenings, occasionally muttering a few curses about the king when drunk. On National Day, they could also use the excuse of celebrating the king's birthday to celebrate.

The clock had struck nine, and ministers who had come to the palace to offer their congratulations were quietly gathering. Among them were not only high-ranking nobles and ministers, but also many young faces. As it was the annual National Day, the attire of the princes and ministers was required to be solemn and elegant. However, on this day, even the notoriously eccentric King Hobbes would become more tolerant. Astute ministers would arrange for their younger relatives to meet the king, paving the way for their descendants' careers. Therefore, the faces of the high-ranking officials, besides their usual stern expressions, also showed a touch of kindness. However, when the clock struck nine, even the ministers who always considered themselves superior began to feel uneasy, and an atmosphere of unease permeated the area outside the palace.

From morning until now, King Hobbes has been sitting on his throne for three hours, his expression shifting between anger and gloom. He has not summoned anyone. Several nobles have dared to step forward to offer their congratulations, but they have all been frightened away by Hobbes's sinister gaze and have retreated in a low voice.

The reason for all of this is that young man named Kyle Domingo.