Hearing Olthagia's words, Jem felt a slight sense of relief and let out a slow breath.
However, the next words from Olthagia made him hesitate again.
"I've heard about this war. The Yar Principality has deployed 140,000 troops. Let's assume there are about 100,000 left by now. I demand that at least 70,000 people be transported to the island. If there aren't enough prisoners, you'll have to find a way to make up the difference yourself." After saying this, Olthagia asked in a seemingly democratic manner, "Any objections?"
"Alright..."
After some contemplation, Jem ultimately agreed to Olthagia's demand.
If it weren't for the increasingly excessive demands from the Yar Kingdom recently, Jem.Woz wouldn't have turned to Olthagia for help. So, from the very beginning, he had no real choice.
Even though he genuinely couldn't figure out how his 60,000 to 70,000 troops could defeat the enemy's 100,000 and successfully capture at least 70,000 of them.
He could only place his hopes on Olthagia being powerful enough...
Watching Jem's retreating figure, Olthagia gently swirled the teacup in his hand, a faint smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.
The first phase of the experiment had just been completed, and the test subjects for the second phase had arrived just in time.
He could sense that Jem wasn't entirely honest, subtly probing for something. It seemed that after a few months of recuperation, Jem felt confident again. The pride of royalty made him want to test the waters a bit.
But knowing this didn't bother Olthagia in the slightest.
There had never been genuine loyalty, only threats and exploitation, so how could there be betrayal?
Moreover, 'betrayal' was a natural part of life for Demons. Selling out allies was just routine in their world.
Thus, Olthagia never cared about the specific actions of his subordinates. He had never trusted them from the start, so why bother worrying about it?
As long as they carried out his orders, any minor schemes were inconsequential. It was all just a game to him...
Pushing open the window and gazing at the night sky, Olthagia sighed softly, "I've been maintaining this human form for so long. It's been a while since I've truly stretched my body. I really want to fight someone."
After months of research, constantly absorbing knowledge to enrich himself, he didn't feel bored, but the nature of a Demon still left him feeling somewhat weary.
However, the gains were substantial. If his previous knowledge could be considered illiterate, now he was among the top of his peers. His knowledge and insights had caught up with his strength, effectively compensating for his previous shortcomings.
Pierce, with his sallow complexion and emaciated body, looked like a skeleton. His skin was covered in gray spots, as if it had mold growing on it.
Lying on the cold floor of the cage, he stared blankly at the candle that had been burning for months without extinguishing.
He felt that his limbs were unresponsive, his mind was foggy, and his entire body was weak. The slightest movement brought excruciating pain, as if his entire body was about to fall apart.
He couldn't even crawl over to the food nearby, so he could only lie there, motionless.
He knew he was about to die, just like everyone else, an inevitable end with no difference.
He had forgotten how long he had been in this place where the sky was unseen. He only remembered that in the beginning, when the disease had not yet taken its toll, many had tried to escape from here. They had heated discussions and even fought over whose method to use.
From tricking the red-haired youth into opening the cell door, to everyone using brute force to break it open!
But it was all in vain. That red-haired youth had only come once and never returned. Except for the occasional food thrown through a small passage, no one cared about this place, as if they had all been forgotten.
And brute force was utterly meaningless. This damned cage was truly well-made.
The bars didn't bend even a bit from start to finish, leaving one in despair.
Just when everyone felt they had been forgotten, destined to be treated like pigs, the nightmare still came.
At first, it was just one person who felt excruciating pain all over their body, with faint gray spots appearing on their skin, feeling utterly weak, even walking became difficult. Then, slowly, more and more people began to show the same symptoms, until finally, everyone had gray spots on their bodies.
Facing this outcome, whether they were [Knights] or [Grand Knights], they all met the same fate!
They could only lie on the ground, howling in pain like sick dogs.
The pain was not constant. At first, it was so severe that it made one wish for death, driving a few of the weakest-willed prisoners to take their own lives.
Then the pain quickly subsided to a level bearable for an ordinary person, but it would gradually intensify over time, as if adjusting itself based on the patient's reaction, deliberately prolonging their life.
Pierce still remembered the first person to discover this was named Hank, an ordinary-looking, slightly thin middle-aged man, said to be a master thief!
Not long after realizing this, that guy teamed up with a prisoner named Herto and ambushed another prisoner with the strength of a [Grand Knight], killing him. They tried to use the hardest bone from the corpse to carve a key that could open the cell door lock, hoping to escape from this hellish place.
But in the end, he failed!
Since the lock was facing away from everyone, he couldn't see the keyhole and had to rely on his experience to judge. In the end, the key got stuck in the keyhole, broke off inside, and completely blocked it.
His corpse now lay not far from Pierce, having died in a rather restless state, still struggling until the end.
It was only because the basement was cool, and the bodies of those at the [Knight] level had some special characteristics, that it hadn't completely rotted away. An ordinary person would have decomposed long ago.
At this moment, Pierce was the only living person left in the cell. Those stronger than him, those weaker than him, all had died.
Yet, it was someone like him, neither strong nor weak, who had managed to cling to life until now!
He didn't know the reason for this, but he knew he was about to die too, perhaps in the next moment…
It is said that many people recall their lives before death. After some thought, Pierce decided to follow this tradition.
So, he closed his eyes and began to reminisce about his past.
After a long while, he opened his eyes, a self-mocking smile appearing at the corner of his mouth. Using all his remaining strength, he slowly raised his middle finger towards the ceiling of his cell:
"What a pile of shit..."
Before his words could fully fade, his heart had already stopped beating.
Perhaps he was referring to his own life, or maybe something else.
Far away in another corner of the estate, Olthagia seemed to hear his final words as he died. Shrugging his shoulders, he chuckled softly, "Shit isn't so bad, at least it has its own meaning. No one wants to step on it. Many people live lives without any significance until their death. One more or one less makes no difference. After stepping over them, others don't even spare a glance. They're not even worth as much as a pile of shit, lacking even the value to disgust. Perhaps they can only be considered as air?"
"I don't know if I can become the ultimate victor, standing at the pinnacle of the countless dimensions of this world. But I want to live a life with meaning, whether it's good or bad. I want to imprint my name across the Multiverse. Even if it doesn't inspire reverence and worship for eternity, I want it to be eternally feared by all, becoming a disaster that no one can ever forget."
Extending his finger into the teacup before him, Olthagia dipped it into the tea. The magic within him enveloped the liquid, forming a crystal-clear, blood-red droplet on his fingertip.
With a gentle flick, the droplet flew deep into the clouds.
Boom...
Accompanied by the rumbling thunder in the sky, the already starless heavens were completely shrouded by dark clouds, turning into a pitch-black night where one couldn't see their own hand. Only when the lightning within the clouds flickered did a faint light emerge.
First, there were sporadic drizzles, which quickly escalated into a torrential downpour.
But unlike ordinary rain, this rain was red, as if blood was falling from the sky, dyeing the entire capital crimson and causing waves of screams.
Feeling the blood-red rain slide down his face, Olthagia's eyes unconsciously glowed with a faint red light. He gently closed his eyes and murmured to himself, "It seems I've been suppressing myself for too long, unexpectedly becoming a bit sentimental. Well, let this be a farewell for you, my test subjects..."
In the palace of Maddon Duchy.
"Damn it..."
Looking at the blood rain outside the window and the panicked crowd shouting in chaos, Jem.Woz's expression was extremely grim. This ominous phenomenon, occurring at such a critical moment just before the decisive battle with Yar Principality, could only be described as a bad omen.
It would greatly disrupt the morale of both the people and the military of Maddon Duchy!
For Maddon Duchy, this could be considered a significant blow. What infuriated him even more, to the point of wanting to vomit blood, was that he had a rough idea of who was behind this blood rain, yet he was utterly powerless to do anything about it. No wonder his expression was so grim.
Beside him, Duke, seeing his lord's expression so grim, thought for a moment and then his eyes lit up as he suggested, "Why not postpone the date of the decisive battle? Take some time to win back some public favor. Let's describe this Blood Rain as an encouragement from the heavens, a sign of great fortune."
Upon hearing Duke's words, Jem was also taken aback.
'Can a Blood Rain from the sky really be considered a good omen?'
This was a question he had never even considered!
'Is such a maneuver possible?'
After some deep thought, he realized that it indeed could be done. After all, although it seemed ominous, no book explicitly stated that it was a bad omen!
Since that was the case, why not fabricate some stories and declare it a sign of great fortune? Who could possibly challenge that?
Having figured out the approach, Jem.Woz was overjoyed and immediately instructed Duke to hurry and concoct a story, preferably one with a very touching plot. He then arranged for people to memorize the story and infiltrate the streets the next morning, spreading their newly fabricated tale in the form of rumors!
Guide the narrative in a favorable direction before the rumors even take shape!