I'm really not a Sanctuary Warlock.

at the same time.

Royal Palace in Rivendell, the capital city.

Audience Hall.

This hall, which symbolized the highest power in the Kingdom of Orentia, now appeared incredibly empty.

Dozens of massive columns, carved from single blocks of white marble, support a dome that is thirty meters high.

Above the dome is a magnificent mural depicting the early days of the kingdom, while golden sunlight pours in through the stained-glass windows on both sides, casting dappled light on the smooth floor.

At the far end of the hall stood a throne cast from a mixture of pure gold and silver.

A young man sat on the throne.

Very young.

He looked to be in his early twenties, with short, neatly combed blond hair, handsome and deep-set features, and skin so fair it was almost pale. He wore a simple black military uniform without any unnecessary embellishments, except for a small gold crown brooch pinned to his collar.

He sat casually, one hand supporting his chin, the other hand casually flipping through a document.

The doors to the audience hall were pushed open from the outside, and Greymond appeared in the doorway.

He changed back into his white archbishop's robes with gold trim, his hair and beard were neat, and his face was kind, a stark contrast to the cold and indifferent figure he had just been in the dungeon.

The old man walked at a leisurely pace through the long hall and stopped in front of the throne.

He did not kneel down, but bowed slightly as a gesture of respect.

"His Majesty."

The young king looked up and closed the document in his hand.

“Your Excellency the Archbishop.” His voice was clear and calm, carrying a composure beyond his years. “Is the matter settled?”

“All the successors to the Fool have been arranged and sent to the Trial Grounds.” Grimmund straightened up, his tone respectful but not humble.

There are ten people in total.

“Ten people…” the king repeated the number softly, tapping his fingers lightly on the armrest twice, “three more than last time.”

“Yes.” Grimmund nodded. “The number of successors chosen by the Kingdom’s will this time is the largest ever.”

What does this mean?

"This shows that the power of the previous fool far exceeded that of the previous generation, and only by distributing it among more successors could the balance be maintained."

The king did not reply, but simply nodded thoughtfully.

After a moment of silence, Grimmund spoke.

"only……"

There was a hint of hesitation in his voice.

"Your Majesty, isn't the location of this trial somewhat inappropriate?"

The king looked up at him.

“There has never been a precedent for conducting trials in a small world before.” Grimmund frowned slightly. “That space was created independently by the kingdom’s will. We cannot observe the fighting process, nor can we intervene when necessary.”

"What if something unexpected happens..."

"Your Excellency the Archbishop."

The young king rose from his throne, walked down the steps, and came before Greymond.

He was half a head shorter than Grimmund, but his pale gold eyes held an imposing presence that made it impossible to look directly at him.

“This is the order of the Kingdom’s will,” the king said calmly. “He created this world on his own, surely because he doesn’t want us to interfere too much.”

Grimmard paused for a moment, then nodded.

"Your subject understands."

“No,” the king suddenly shook his head, “you don’t understand.”

Grimmund was slightly taken aback.

The king turned around, walked back up the steps, and stopped in front of the throne.

He did not sit down, but instead turned his back to Greymond and gazed at the huge mural on the dome.

"Your Excellency, why do you think the Kingdom's will is doing this?"

Greymond did not answer.

“Because He doesn’t trust us.” The king asked himself and answered, “Last time, the Church and the Royal Family interfered with the succession of the Fool. And what was the result? The person who ultimately won lost all his sanity less than three years after inheriting the power.”

"A fool who is supported by external forces is ultimately not a true fool."

Greymond's expression remained unchanged, but his hands, hanging at his sides, clenched quietly.

"So this time, the Kingdom's will has chosen a closed trial." The King turned to look at Greymond. "No outside help, no interference, no underhanded dealings."

"Whoever survives to the end is the real fool."

"That's all."

Greymond remained silent for a long time.

Finally, he bent down again.

"Your subject...has learned a great deal."

The king sat back on his throne and picked up the documents he had put down earlier.

"Your Excellency Archbishop, is there anything else?"

"No, Your Majesty."

"Then you may leave."

Grimmund turned and walked toward the palace entrance. Just as he was about to leave the palace, he heard the king's voice behind him.

"By the way, Your Excellency the Archbishop."

Greymond stopped walking, but didn't turn around.

"What was the name of the last successor?"

“Lynn,” Grimmund replied, “a level 30 warlock, the lowest-ranking of all the successors.”

"Lynn," the king murmured the name, a slight smile playing on his lips.

"interesting."

"A level 30 warlock, yet you personally arranged for him to enter the trial... Your Excellency, you never do anything that doesn't benefit you."

Greymond did not respond.

He pushed open the door of the main hall and went out.

The heavy doors slowly closed behind him, sealing the audience hall back into silence.

On the throne, the king put down the documents and leaned back in his chair.

He closed his eyes, but the faint smile on his lips never faded.

"Fool..."

He murmured softly.

"I hope this time, you won't disappoint me again."

......

Lynn wandered through the rainforest for about two hours.

The rainforest was much larger than he had imagined, with huge trees blocking out almost all the sunlight.

The air was stifling, and his clothes were quickly soaked with sweat.

But Lynn didn't care about any of that.

As he walked, he observed his surroundings, trying to create a map of the area in his mind.

Two hours of exploration led him to several preliminary conclusions.

First, there is a water source in this rainforest. He found a shallow stream half an hour ago. The water was clear and should be drinkable.

Secondly, there were animals here; he saw several colorful birds and a lizard darting past his feet. But so far, he hadn't encountered any aggressive monsters.

Third, and most importantly, Lynn noticed that some trees had strange symbols carved on their trunks. These symbols were very faint and could not be seen without careful observation, but they were indeed there and seemed to be pointing in a certain direction.

He did not rashly follow those symbols.

In this environment, any seemingly "useful" clue could be a trap.

Lynn chose a particularly thick tree and used the hanging vines to climb up to a branch more than ten meters high.

This location offers a wide view, yet it's obscured by dense foliage, making it difficult to spot.

He sat on a tree branch, leaning against the trunk, and exhaled a long breath.

I can finally catch my breath.

Lynn closed his eyes and began to take stock of the cards in his hand.

Although the Sirens have wide-range attack capabilities, the effect of the "Song of the Seas" skill is reduced in this dense forest environment because it cannot determine the enemy's location.

However, in close-quarters combat, it can still be a one-hit kill.

The temple guards are currently his greatest asset; in direct combat, their level of strength is enough to overwhelm all successors.

But the problem is... Lynn frowned.

The summoning of the temple guards takes a certain amount of time.

Although it's short, in a duel between experts, even a one-second lapse can be fatal.

Moreover, he was unsure of the upper limit of the abilities of his other successors.

Lynn rubbed his temples.

A level 30 base means that his reaction speed, physical fitness, and total magic power are far inferior to those of his successors.

Once he gets close, or if the Sirens and temple guards' attacks miss, he becomes a sitting duck.

Therefore, you absolutely cannot fight head-on.

We absolutely cannot engage in direct combat until we have a clear understanding of the strength of the others.

Hide, observe, wait for the right moment, and then strike a fatal blow.

This is his only way to survive.

Lynn made a decision.

He took out an invisibility cloak from his pocket and wrapped himself in it.

A familiar feeling of invisibility enveloped his entire body. He looked down and confirmed that his body had completely disappeared from his sight.

Then, he leaned against the tree trunk and closed his eyes.

meditation.

In this environment, maintaining high energy levels is more important than anything else. He needs to keep himself in peak condition at all times because he doesn't know when the battle will begin.

The sounds in the rainforest gradually faded away, and Lynn's consciousness sank into that familiar void.

Chapter 83 The Right Thing

I don't know how much time passed.

A scream jolted Lynn awake from his meditation.

He suddenly opened his eyes, his body tensing instantly.

The screams came from the southeast, about... three or four hundred meters away from him?

The sound was very short, lasting less than two seconds before it stopped abruptly.

Lynn's heart started pounding.

Someone died.