I'm really not a Sanctuary Warlock.

Lynn turned around abruptly.

On the stone steps at the end of the dungeon, a familiar figure was slowly walking down.

The expression on Grimmund's face was completely different from when he was in the study.

That gentle smile, that kind gaze, all vanished.

What was now written on his face was a chilling coldness and indifference.

He was like a high and mighty god, looking down at the ants in the cage, his eyes devoid of any emotion, as if the elder who had just been chatting happily with Lynn was just a false phantom.

Greymond walked down the last step and stopped in the middle of the corridor.

He didn't look at Lynn, nor at any of the cells; he simply glanced around slowly.

"Welcome to the cradle of fools."

"Here, you will shed your mortal identities and forget your past names and glories."

"You all have only one goal—to kill the other successors and become the ultimate victor."

His gaze slowly swept across each cell.

"All successors have arrived."

"The trial is about to begin."

Chapter 81 The Man in the Cage, The Man Outside the Cage

Grimmund's voice echoed through the dungeon.

Lynn stood in the middle of the corridor and suddenly realized a problem.

He looked around. Nine cells, nine successors—he seemed to be the only one not locked in a cage.

Grimm seemed to have guessed Lynn's thoughts and added a comment directly.

"You arrived the latest, so we didn't prepare anything for you."

Lynn did not speak, but simply stared at the archbishop.

Greymond withdrew his gaze, raised one hand, and gently waved it forward.

The iron bars of the nine prison cells rose up simultaneously.

One by one, those who were locked inside came out.

The first to move was the burly man covered in scars.

He was at least two meters tall, with muscles bulging like iron, and each step he took on the stone slabs produced a dull thud.

Next came the young man in the magnificent robes. He opened his eyes, stood up, and dusted off his robes with great elegance.

The thin little girl who had been huddled in the corner also stood up. She lowered her head, her hands tightly gripping the hem of her clothes, and her body was still trembling slightly.

The people in the other cells also came out one after another.

A middle-aged hunter with a rugged face, draped in animal skins.

A tall, thin figure wearing a mask, whose face is obscured.

A woman dressed in a nun's habit, with a blank expression.

A strange man whose entire body was wrapped in bandages, with only his eyes showing.

A taciturn young man carrying a giant sword.

There's another one...

Lynn's gaze fell on the person who came out of the last cell, and his pupils contracted slightly.

That was an elf.

He had long silver hair, pointed ears, and an unbelievably handsome face, but his cold eyes were completely different from the elves Lynn had met in the Silverleaf Forest.

There were ten successors, including Lynn.

Ten people stood in this narrow dungeon corridor, only a few meters apart, the air thick with an invisible killing intent and vigilance.

Lynn could sense that at least three pairs of eyes were fixed on him.

After all, he was a newcomer.

To others, this either meant he was receiving special treatment, or that he was the weakest one, so weak that he didn't even need to be shut down.

Either way, it's enough to make him a target of public criticism.

Just then, the burly man covered in scars suddenly moved.

He didn't look at Lynn, but turned to the tall, thin masked figure closest to him.

His right fist clenched tightly, and crimson flames instantly ignited on it, the temperature so high that it distorted the surrounding air.

"Since the goal is to kill until only one person survives..." the burly man's voice was ferocious, "then let's begin now."

At the same time, on the other side of the corridor, the silent young man carrying a giant sword also moved. He slowly drew the giant sword from his back, and pale blue ice elements flowed across the blade. The cold air spread instantly, and a thin layer of frost condensed on the ground.

Two distinct elemental fluctuations collided in the narrow corridor, the auras of fire and ice intertwining, causing everyone to instinctively take a step back.

Lynn also took a half step back, cursing inwardly.

These two lunatics, why would they start a fight in a place like this?

"stop."

Greymond's voice was not loud, it could even be described as very soft.

But the moment those two words fell, the flames on the burly man's fist were extinguished, and the ice on the young man's sword melted away in an instant.

Greymond stood at the end of the corridor, not even raising his hand, not even glancing at them.

"Trials have their rules."

The burly man hesitated for a few seconds before reluctantly releasing his fist, while the young man with the sword silently sheathed his greatsword behind his back.

Grimmund then nodded slightly.

"very good."

He turned around and faced the stone wall at the end of the corridor.

Raise your hand.

A dazzling white light surged from his palm, and countless complex runes instantly appeared on the stone wall, eventually coalescing into an arched doorway radiating a soft light.

"Pass through this door, and the trial will officially begin." Grimmund stepped aside to make way for the others.

"There is only one rule, and that is to be the last one standing."

No one moved.

The ten successors stood still, looking at each other, none of them wanting to be the first to step through that unknown door.

The first person to enter means the first person to be exposed to the unknown environment, which means they may be attacked from behind by those behind them.

The silence lasted for a while.

Then, Lynn moved.

He strode forward and headed straight for the magic door.

It wasn't because he was brave, but because he knew that every second he stayed in that corridor increased the risk of being watched.

Instead of staring at a bunch of killers here, it's better to go find a place to hide.

Lynn stopped in front of the magic door.

He glanced back.

The burly man stared at him with contempt and disdain, as if looking at a fool who had walked right into a trap.

The young man in the monk's robe remained indifferent, as if he were looking at an insignificant passerby.

The petite girl raised her head, her timid eyes meeting Lynn's for a moment before quickly looking down again.

Lynn looked away.

Then, he turned around and stepped into the door of light.

The moment the white light engulfed him, he heard hurried footsteps behind him.

The others started moving too.

......

The feeling of passing through the magic gate was similar to when Grimmund teleported me to the dungeon.

The world spun around me, I felt weightless, and then I felt the solid ground beneath my feet.

This time, however, what I was stepping on was soft, damp soil.

Lynn opened his eyes.

What greets the eye is an overwhelming expanse of green.

The enormous trees blocked out the sky, their thick trunks requiring several people to encircle them, and vines hung down from above like natural curtains.

The air was humid and stuffy, filled with the smell of decaying leaves and earth, and the calls of unknown birds could be heard in the distance.

This is a tropical rainforest.

Lynn quickly looked around to make sure no one was following him, then immediately ran to the nearest giant tree and hid among its thick roots.

He crouched in the shadows, suppressing his breathing, while his mind raced.

This place... doesn't seem to be anywhere within the Kingdom of Orentia.

The concentration of magic in the air was very high, but there was an inexplicable sense of unease.

Lynn took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down.

The first thing he needs to do now is not to fight, but to survive.

Find a water source, assess the terrain, avoid other successors, and wait for the right opportunity.

His rank is the lowest, that much is certain.

But he also has things that others don't—an invisibility cloak, sirens, and temple guards.

As his thoughts raced, a single idea suddenly flashed through his mind.

Grimmund said that those chosen by the Kingdom's will possess a special talent, and Cat Whitey also mentioned that Fools represent purity, kindness, and freedom.

So here's the question: are all these chosen people truly pure of heart?

Just now in the dungeon, the bloodlust in the burly man's eyes, the chilling coldness in the elf's eyes, that feverish eagerness to kill...

Do these people really deserve the word "pure"?

Or perhaps they were once pure, but after learning of the Fool's Legacy, they lost their true selves in the face of the temptation of power?

Probably.

Even the wealthy can lose their true nature because of power, let alone in this world where strength reigns supreme.

Strength is more fascinating than power.

When someone knows that by killing everyone in front of them, they can gain enough power to change the world, how many people can resist taking action?

Lynn gave a self-deprecating laugh.

Isn't he the same?

He said it was to save Anna, but deep down, his desire for that power was also real.

Forget it, there's no point in thinking about it.

Let's survive first.

Lynn stood up from among the tree roots, patted the dirt off his clothes, and walked into the depths of the rainforest.

He needs to familiarize himself with the terrain as soon as possible before anyone else finds him.

Chapter 82 The Boy on the Throne