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Chapter 98
🕑 Added 2024-12-07 16:41:41 +0000 UTCMorin and his companions moved through the festive crowds, blending in with a detached indifference that made them stand out in their cold aloofness.
On the way to the prison, Morin took the opportunity to learn a bit about this kingdom.
The Kingdom of Mosibia bore similarities to a certain declining empire from Morin’s previous world and a seemingly thriving, albeit "blind," irradiated state that was routinely oppressed by its influential "father."
The Mosibia Kingdom had a monarchy, but the actual governance of the country was handled by the prime minister.
The royal family served only as a symbolic figurehead, akin to the monarchy in the United Kingdom, acting as a unifying emblem of national power.
While technically possessing significant powers—such as the ability to dissolve parliament or appoint the prime minister—the royal family rarely exercised them.
The current monarch was the elderly queen mother of Mosibia, aged 92. The celebration tomorrow was for her 93rd birthday.
The ceremony would be hosted by her grandson, who was in his 50s, with her two sons—aged 74 and 73—also in attendance.
Originally, the queen mother had more children, but in this dangerous world, only two had survived.
It was remarkable that she had endured so much, having sent off not only two of her children but also several of her grandchildren.
Hearing a few gossip-laden tidbits, Morin quickly grew bored and hastened his pace.
Before long, the prison loomed in the distance.
The trio arrived on a street near the facility.
“What’s the plan, Morin? Should we just storm in?” Uvogin cracked his knuckles loudly, his anticipation filling the air.
His gaze settled on the guards stationed at the prison entrance, and he licked his lips with bloodthirsty excitement.
“That would draw too much attention and could compromise tomorrow’s operation,” Morin replied, shaking his head. “Besides, I don’t like unnecessary trouble.”
He reached into his dimensional pocket and pulled out a short rod with a red handle and a yellow body.
“Grab onto my clothes and don’t let go.”
After giving this instruction, which Uvogin and Nobunaga followed obediently, Morin lightly waved the rod in his hand.
In an instant, their figures vanished.
“They disappeared?!”
It wasn’t until Uvogin’s surprised voice rang out that it became clear they were still in the same spot. Their bodies had simply become invisible, like ghosts.
“A tool that makes us vanish... is this invisibility?!” Nobunaga asked in amazement.
“This is the Invisibility Rod,” Morin explained. “It hides our forms but doesn’t make us disappear. People can’t see us, but they can still hear or touch us. Hold on tightly—if you let go and expose yourself, that’s on you.”
Item: Invisibility Rod
Effect: A special tool that bends light, making the user appear invisible. As long as the rod is held, it refracts light to conceal the user.
The Invisibility Rod uses refraction to achieve its effect, similar to the Blind Spot Star, a tool that exploits visual blind spots to render objects invisible.
While effective, the rod falls short compared to the Invisibility Cloak, a more advanced tool with the simple rule: “Drape it on, and no one can see you.” Unfortunately, Morin hadn’t yet obtained the cloak, much to his regret.
He did, however, have several Blind Spot Stars in his arsenal.
Item: Blind Spot Star
Effect: Based on the principle of visual blind spots—areas where the retina cannot form images. Sticking a Blind Spot Star onto an object keeps it hidden from sight. Effective for one hour.
Due to its time limit, Morin preferred the Invisibility Rod for this mission.
Under the rod’s effect, the trio boldly walked past the guards and into the heavily guarded prison, completely unnoticed.
[Truth-Telling Sticker]: Advocate for the Rights of Underage Girls
With all three individuals employing Zetsu or In techniques, their presence was completely undetected.
Following the route displayed by the Spy Eye, the trio navigated the twists and turns and quickly reached the deepest part of the prison.
Beyond the checkpoints and guard posts lay a long corridor.
On the eastern side of the corridor was an open space, followed by a wall, behind which stood a row of cells.
While this area usually held many prisoners, most of the cells were empty today.
Perhaps it was due to the queen's upcoming birthday celebration, inspiring a pardon that released a significant number of inmates.
Or maybe the prisoners previously held here had connections or influential backgrounds.
At the very end of the row, only two cells were occupied.
One held a group of criminals convicted of robbery and assault; the other contained a lone vagabond.
When Morin, Uvogin, and Nobunaga arrived at the cell, they saw two soldiers restraining the vagabond, pinning his arms behind his back.
They pressed their knees into his spine, forcing him to lie face-down on the ground.
Judging by their casual demeanor, it was clear they had done this many times before. Their expressions were mocking, as if they were toying with an insect.
A third soldier stood nearby, holding a flexible whip. With a flick of his wrist, the whip cracked in the air and lashed heavily across the vagabond's back.
“Ahhh!!”
The vagabond's agonized scream echoed through the corridor.
Morin, Uvogin, and Nobunaga watched from outside, their expressions impassive.
Eventually, the soldier with the whip seemed to think the beating had gone on long enough. He stepped forward, grabbed the vagabond’s chin, and forced him to lift his head, making direct eye contact.
“Why make this harder on yourself?” the soldier sneered. “We have witnesses, and both the prosecutor and judge are ready.”
“The queen’s birthday celebration is tomorrow evening. By midnight tonight, we’ll have you in court and convicted of this murder.”
“If you confess now, you’ll suffer less.”
“If you admit to the crime during the trial, we’ll ensure you have some dignity before your execution. We might even treat you decently before your final day. Why endure this torment at the end of your life?”
The soldier's tone softened, as if offering genuine advice.
“You’re just a nobody, a vagabond with no background or connections. No one can save you. Your fate is already sealed.”
“Is that so?”
The vagabond, bruised and barely able to breathe, suddenly lifted his head and gave the soldier a defiant grin.
“I know I’m not getting out of here alive, but…” He spat blood in the soldier’s face.
“I didn’t kill anyone, and I’m not about to take the fall! Even if I’m tortured to death, I won’t confess!”
“I’m from Meteor City. Even in death, we have our pride!”
Caught off guard, the soldier recoiled in disgust, furious as the blood splattered his uniform.
“You dare?!”
He lashed out, kicking the vagabond to the ground.
“Pride?”
The soldier let out a cold laugh. “What’s pride worth to you now?!
“Let’s see how far that pride can carry you!”
He raised the whip high, intending to strike again.
But at that moment, he froze, his arm suspended mid-air.
No matter how hard he tried to move, it was as if an invisible force clamped his arm in place.
“Other people’s so-called pride might be worthless,” a rough voice echoed in the room, “but the pride of Meteor City folk is worth more than the meals you eat!”
Before the soldier could react, a massive hand appeared out of nowhere and clamped onto his face.
CRUNCH!
Like a watermelon crushed in a vice, the soldier’s head exploded into a mess of red and white.
Thud.
As the headless corpse collapsed, the whip fell to the ground, and the room filled with the stench of blood.
The other two soldiers, who had been restraining the vagabond, froze in terror.
They stared at the towering man who had killed their comrade so effortlessly. Cold sweat ran down their backs as fear gripped them.
But before they could react, a blinding flash of white light filled their vision, followed by eternal darkness.
THUD!
Two more bodies hit the ground, joining the growing pile of headless corpses.
“Filthy.”
Nobunaga sheathed his katana with practiced precision and glanced at Uvogin’s bloodied hands with mild disdain.
He wasn’t offended by Uvogin’s actions, only by the blood of the soldier tainting his hands. To Nobunaga, both the man and his blood were equally disgusting.
“You’re…”
The vagabond, as if waking from a dream, finally processed what had happened. His eyes widened in recognition.
For someone from Meteor City, death and violence were everyday occurrences. The deaths of the soldiers didn’t shock him, but the identities of his saviors did.
“Uvogin? Nobunaga?!”
His voice trembled with a mix of surprise and joy. “It’s really you two?!”
It was clear that the vagabond knew them well.
