I'm really not a Sanctuary Warlock.

"Yes, a deal that is entirely beneficial to you and to the entire Kingdom of Orentia."

The man in black robes paused for a moment: "We, the followers of the great Lord of the Abyss, may completely withdraw from the territory of the Kingdom of Orentia."

"From now on, for the next hundred years, the tentacles of the abyss will no longer set foot on this land."

Upon hearing this condition, Yarwin's pupils contracted slightly.

As king, he knew better than anyone how much trouble these cultists, who called themselves "Abyss Followers," had caused throughout the kingdom.

They are like an ineradicable cancer, inciting riots, spreading plagues, sacrificing civilians, and corrupting officials.

Every year, the kingdom invests enormous manpower and resources to eradicate them, but with little success; instead, they continue to grow stronger amidst the chaos.

Now, the other side's envoy has actually taken the initiative to propose a complete withdrawal?

This is like a windfall.

"What are the conditions?" Yarwin asked calmly.

“It’s very simple.” The voice beneath the black robe twisted again. “I need something, an ancient spell that is taboo, even forgotten, for you.”

"【Metaphorical Technique】."

Upon hearing this word, a subtle change finally appeared on Yarwin's usually impassive face.

"You want metaphorical techniques?" he repeated, his voice tinged with a hint of confusion.

Metaphor, a very ancient form of magic.

Its core function is to transfer the caster's own misfortune, curse, and bad luck to an object, a rock, or even a plant through a metaphorical means.

It sounds powerful, but it has a fatal flaw—the success rate of the transfer is not 100%, and the requirements for the carrier are extremely high.

More importantly, the transferred calamity does not disappear; it merely lies dormant within the vessel. Once the vessel is destroyed or reaches its limit, the calamity will retaliate against the caster in a more violent manner.

Therefore, historically, it was more often seen as a short-sighted, desperate measure to prolong life, and without exception, all users met a tragic end. Over time, this art was shelved and forgotten.

“Of course.” The man in black robes smiled. “Your Majesty, what you consider useless trash may become the cornerstone that can move the world in our hands. As for what we want to do with it, that is not your concern.”

Yarwin remained silent.

He knew, of course, that what the other party said was true.

The value of something depends on the person who uses it. Since these believers in the abyss went to great lengths to obtain it, it means that they must have a way to circumvent or exploit the flaws of metaphor.

Giving such a forbidden spell with boundless potential to a group of fanatical cultists is tantamount to handing a knife to madmen.

Nobody knows who they'll use that knife to stab.

But the conditions offered by the other party were simply too tempting.

Allowing the Abyss Order to completely withdraw from the kingdom not only means that the kingdom will instantly become stable, but also frees up a large number of troops and resources to deal with the monsters from the wasteland, as well as... those parasites that are stirring up trouble within the kingdom.

In the short term, this deal is highly beneficial to the kingdom and could even be seen as a brilliant achievement for him in stabilizing his royal power and enhancing his political record.

But in the long run...

"Your Majesty, what are you still hesitating about?" The man in black robes seemed to see through his thoughts. "Are you worried that we will use metaphors against the Kingdom of Orentia? Heh... Please forgive my bluntness, but if the great Lord of the Abyss wanted to bring this land to its doom, he wouldn't need such troublesome methods."

His words were filled with arrogant superiority, but Yarwin knew that he was telling the truth.

"Your true enemies have never been us," the black-robed man's voice was full of seduction, "but rather those compatriots lurking in the shadows, coveting your throne."

As if his thoughts had been read, Yarwin raised his eyes, his purple pupils shining brightly in the dim light.

“I can give you the art of metaphor,” he said slowly.

A red light suddenly shone from under the black-robed man's hood.

“But,” Yarwin changed the subject, “I need a guarantee, a guarantee that you will keep your promise.”

“Of course.” The man in black robes seemed to have expected this. “You can send your most elite knights to witness the withdrawal of all our orders at the kingdom’s border. You can keep that book until the last believer leaves Orentia.”

“Not enough.” Yarwin shook his head. “I need a contract.”

"contract?"

"In the name of the Lord of the Abyss, we swear an oath and make a pact that you will not set foot in Orentia again for a hundred years. If you break this oath, the beacon of your master's descent into this world will forever collapse."

The man in black robes fell silent.

A chilling aura emanated from him.

After a long silence, he spoke again.

"can."

A smile finally appeared on Yarwin's face.

He raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.

From the shadows at the back of the hall, an elderly man dressed in a court mage's robe appeared silently, holding a box made of star mithril in his hands.

The old man slowly walked to the throne, knelt on one knee, and raised the box high.

Yarwin did not take it, but simply gestured for him to deliver the box to the man in black.

“What you want is inside,” Yarwin said. “The scroll of the contract is also inside. Sign it, and the thing is yours.”

The man in the black robe stared at the box that emitted a faint starlight, while the red light under the hood flickered intensely.

He slowly extended his hand.

That's not a hand.

The next moment, a deep purple tentacle, covered with sticky suckers and resembling an octopus, emerged from the wide sleeve of the black robe.

The tentacles wriggled in the air, rolled up the box, and then retracted into the black robe.

A moment later, an ancient parchment scroll flew out from the black robe and floated in front of Yarwin.

On the scroll, a rune written in blood was emitting an ominous red light.

The contract was established.

"It's a pleasure to cooperate, Your Majesty Yarwin."

The man in black robes let out a satisfied laugh, and his entire body began to become ethereal, slowly merging into the air.

"Hopefully, neither of us will regret the decision we made today."

On his throne, Yarwin looked at the contract scroll floating in front of him, and the smile on his face slowly disappeared.

He picked up the scroll, glanced at the blasphemous runes on it, and then casually tossed it to the court sorcerer behind him.

"Keep it."

"Yes, Your Majesty." The old monk respectfully accepted it, his figure disappearing back into the shadows.

In the empty hall, only Yarwin remained.

He leaned back on the throne, a hint of fatigue showing on his handsome face.

They gave forbidden magic to cultists in exchange for temporary peace in the kingdom.

This was undoubtedly a deal with the devil.

But in order to buy this crumbling kingdom some breathing room, he had no other choice.

Chapter Ninety-One: The True Nature

Lynn leaned against the damp stone wall of the cave, closing his eyes in meditation.

The sanity value on the panel returned to 75 points shortly after disengaging from combat.

He opened his eyes and glanced at Eileen, who was curled up asleep in the corner.

The girl hugged her knees, her head tilted to one side. After going through so much, she was still able to fall asleep. I don't know whether to say she was carefree or just too tired.

Lynn withdrew his gaze and began to plan his next move.

Of the ten successors, there are likely only four left.

The best strategy is to continue to play it safe.

The only problem then is time.

Is there a time limit for this trial? If not, he can hide indefinitely, but if there is a time limit...

Lynn frowned.

Well, let's just take it one step at a time. Anyway, my sanity is full now, so I'm ready to fight anytime.

Let Eileen rest a little longer, and we'll talk about it when she wakes up...

A blinding white light suddenly appeared at Lynn's feet.

"!"

At the same time, the same light shone beneath Eileen's feet.

Holy crap.

Teleportation array.

Lynn instinctively tried to jump out of the magic circle's range, but he couldn't move an inch.

The white light grew brighter and brighter, quickly engulfing our field of vision.

That familiar dizzying sensation returned.

weightlessness.

dizziness.

The moment Lynn opened his eyes, his pupils suddenly contracted.

He stood in the center of a huge circular area.

The surrounding area is made of layers of stone stands, towering into the clouds, like an enlarged version of some ancient Roman Colosseum.

The stands were empty, but the stone seats exuded an invisible sense of oppression, as if countless unseen eyes were watching him from there.

There was no sky above, only a deep void, as if it were sealed off by some force.

This is a fucking gladiatorial arena.

Lynn quickly looked around. About twenty meters to his right, Eileen was standing there in terror, looking around.

There were two figures directly in front of him.

One was the bandaged monster we'd seen before; the other was a woman in a nun's habit, her hands clasped in front of her, as if praying or perhaps asleep.

Just then, Lynn noticed a detail.

There was an almost transparent barrier of light between him and the bandaged man, between him and the nun, and even between him and Eileen.

A pale golden light swirled in the air, separating the four people into their respective areas.

Lynn tentatively reached out his hand, and the moment his fingertips touched the light screen, a gentle force bounced him back.

Not a buddy.

Why didn't you do this earlier?

Previously, they were allowed to fight freely in the rainforest, which made him hide in fear for so long. Now, they are being teleported to the arena and a barrier has been thoughtfully added to prevent sneak attacks.

So all that was just foreplay? And this is the real trial?

If it had been a one-on-one or many-on-many arena mode from the beginning, would he have been in such a sorry state?

After a "Singing All the Way" performance, you can call it a day and go home without even having to worry about being ambushed.

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

Complaining is useless. Since the rules have changed, we should follow the new rules.

He looked at the bandaged monster opposite him.

The eyes peeking out from the gaps in the bandages remained perfectly calm, revealing no emotion whatsoever.

But Lynn knew just how terrifying this guy's true form was.

Its crystal body can absorb magical attacks and convert the absorbed energy into its own power.

If you fight it head-on, there's almost no way to win.