Chapter 685: Chapter 18: Bring Him Back!

Cyrus was taken aback and instinctively blurted out, “You mean… that Lynch? This… is this possible? He’s just a…”

The figure on the throne let out a low, hoarse laugh, interrupting Cyrus’s doubts: “Evidence? In the face of absolute interests and possibilities, irrefutable evidence sometimes becomes a luxurious burden.”

“Through my channels, I confirmed that Fran’s numerous breakthroughs in Space Magic in recent years align closely with this young man’s activity patterns at key time points. More importantly…”

The dry voice paused, carrying a cold certainty: “I have received confirmed news that Gulwige went to the lengths of using his Truth Wizard authority to secure a slot for this Lynch Valen to enter the ’Lost Tower’.”

“The Lost Tower?!” Cyrus was shocked again. He clearly knew what that place meant. “They actually… actually were willing to use such a precious slot on an outsider?!”

“So, this is far more than just simple protection or investment.” The wizard’s voice from the shadows grew colder, “This itself is a strong signal! Fran believes he is worth this price! It is even possible their breakthroughs in Space Magic might heavily rely on some…trait or ability this young man possesses.”

He turned to Cyrus, his invisible gaze seemingly bearing a pressing weight: “This is an opportunity, Cyrus. I will strive for a slot for you to enter the Lost Tower. Your mission is to find him inside, and then…”

His voice purposely paused here, but the cold killing intent and will were unmistakably clear.

“…Bring him back ’intact.’ Dead or alive, but I need his brain and soul to remain as active as possible, understand?”

Cyrus’s heart suddenly skipped a beat, a mixture of excitement, fear, and bloodthirsty tremor instantly spreading throughout his body. A slot for the Lost Tower! That is an opportunity he had long desired! More importantly, this was a significant task given by his master!

Without any hesitation, he swiftly dropped to one knee, bowing his head deeply, his forehead nearly touching the cold, smooth, intricately lined ground. At this moment, he was no longer the high and mighty Great Wizard of Late Domain, commanding order in the outside world, but a servant in utmost awe, desiring his master’s affirmation.

“At your command, Master!” His voice trembled slightly with excitement, his forehead pressed tightly against the ground, not daring to lift it, “I will spare no effort, at all costs, to bring Lynch back for my master to deal with! I will not let you down again!”

That utterly humble posture contrasted shockingly with his usual majestic, commanding image.

“Go. Prepare well. Once the slot is confirmed, I will notify you.” The hoarse voice returned to calm, as if the command just given was a trivial directive.

“Yes!” Cyrus responded respectfully once again, only then did he cautiously rise, keeping his head low, retreating step by step out of the suffocating underground palace.

The heavy obsidian stone gate slowly closed, completely sealing Cyrus’s departing figure outside. The underground palace returned to a suffocating deathly silence, with only a few clusters of dim green cold flames flickering, casting twisted shadows of the throne onto the cold walls, like demons baring their fangs and claws.

After a long time, the figure on the throne let out an extremely faint, sarcastic snort:

“Gulwige… After all these years, you are still like moles underground, obsessed with those unrealistic dreams, still haven’t abandoned the idea of ’going back’, have you?”

His voice was filled with disbelief and contempt, as if evaluating a group of hopeless fools: “Hmph, that place already ruined and bygone, left in the dust of time… what’s so good about it? Worth your endless nostalgia?”

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Silence descended once again, with only the faint hissing sound of energy flowing.

After a while, he suddenly seemed to remember something, not turning his head, speaking with an almost casual tone toward a corner shadow saturated with density:

“Oh, right… The information reported from below mentioned that this wizard named Lynch, seemingly… comes from the same place as you, yes?”

As his words fell, the thick shadows in the corner of the hall seemed to wriggle like a living thing, and then, a young man in a neat Netta Apprentice robe, with a tall and straight posture stepped out silently from the shadows, as if part of the darkness had detached.

He had meticulously groomed short brown hair, a handsome yet expressionless face, and most notably, those indifferent gray eyes that bore a striking resemblance to Lynch’s, only his eyes held a bit more icy chill and somberness than Lynch’s.

He walked to the lower front of the throne, bowing in a standard manner, his voice calm without a ripple: “Yes, Master. We hail from the same manor, from the same cohort detected with wizard talent.”

The wizard on the throne seemed to stir with interest, adjusting his sitting position slightly, joints emitting a soft crackling sound: “Oh? Both from the same place… That’s somewhat interesting. How come you’ve never mentioned him before?”

Alfred’s head lowered slightly more, his tone remained steady, yet carried a trace of confusion so minute, even he might be unaware of: “I, too, am quite surprised.”

“During his time at the Shadow Tower, he…performed averagely, one might even say clumsily, timid, merely an insignificant fringe figure who could be eliminated at any moment. I never thought someone like him… could actually succeed in advancing to an Official Wizard, much less imagine he could reach where he is today…”

He paused slightly, seemingly organizing his words, a hardly noticeable gloom flickered in his gray eyes: “This utterly defies common logic. From what I know, he has no special background or opportunity. Something… must have happened that I’m unaware of.”

“Something you’re unaware of?” The voice from the throne carried a faint, amused smile, picking up the thread, “Or perhaps…a ’secret’?”

The hoarse voice lowered, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue in the dark: “It seems your ’old friend’ hides quite a secret… to make Fran so concerned, to make that old Gulwige go to such lengths…”

After a brief silence, the order was issued again, without room for dispute: “I will also strive to secure a slot for you in this upcoming Lost Tower. You shall enter as well.”

Alfred suddenly lifted his head, the gray eyes reflecting an obvious emotional fluctuation for the first time— a light mixed with surprise and a hint of bloodthirsty excitement.

The voice from the throne continued: “Go meet this ’old friend’ of yours properly. And… assist Cyrus in ’bringing him back’ for me.”

Alfred quickly suppressed the fluctuation within his eyes, reverting to his icy submissive demeanor once more. He bowed his head deeply, his voice resolute and unwavering:

“Yes, Master.”

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