Hardy and Mark were waiting in the Tavern, with a hearty dinner and sparkling ale in front of

them. No barley grows in this dark underground world. Had Stonelegs paid a high price for

this ale from an underground halflyman the team bought it with a lot of effort."As it should be, we're cheering for the King of the Arena today!" 'cried Stonelegs, holding

his glass high in the air, and the perfume filling the whole pub.

'To our arena King! Hardy from the overland world! All hail, everyone!!" Everyone else in the

tavern chimed in loudly and cheered.

There were even a few goblin guests there cheering, who didn't really know who Hardy was,

and who couldn't figure out the point of the so-called King of the Arena. But there was plenty

of food before them: golden roast pigs, chicken legs frothed with honey, Roos scorched on

the outside and tender on the inside, a fragrant mushroom puree. Eat a spoonful of mashed

potatoes and savor the unique aroma of your lips and the subtle spiciness of the seasoning.

Not even the most discerning foodie could complain about the pub's hospitality this evening.

Not to mention the excellent variety of wines, strong, mellow, soft, relaxing, and exciting. All

for one thing, Hardy today finally accomplished a seemingly impossible feat, he defeated all

the monsters in the arena, became the king of the arena, the king of the arena!

That is the title of a warrior, the title of the mightiest warrior Prudence!

But Hardy was not in the mood, and when clinked glasses, he would put on a smile, listen

absentmindedly to the adulation, and say, as if on a routine task, "HMM! Yeah!" 'answered.

His eyes were always looking expectantly at the door of the inn, waiting for the return of a

man.

"Vincent has not appeared for a whole day." Mark sat at the desk where Vincent usually stayed,

chin resting, looking out the window at the dark city with a little boredom. The dwarf could

not bear the noise of the revelry below. Today they returned from the arena in high spirits to

receive the news that their mage friend had been called away by the Dark Elves. And then

there's the whole day of waiting.

"He, he hasn't come back yet? Hardy stumbled in through the door smelling of alcohol. He

has had a lot to drink today, but it is strange that Hardy, who should normally be drunk and

sleeping like a pig, is still somewhat sober today.

"No," Mark replied, "Maybe he'll be back tomorrow."

"I hope so..." With those words, Hardy fell to the floor.

But again, Vincent did not appear the next day. Hardy was getting impatient, but Stonelegs

kept telling him that the Dark Elves had a habit of staying over when they saw a handsome

young man, and that your mage friend might be having a fling. Hardy simply shook his head,

not believing that Vincent was put off by this excuse. He still sat in the lobby on the first floor

of the tavern, with his glass of strong wine, which he had bought in the morning, for the rest

of the day. As the evening wore on, the level of the drink did not drop.

On the third day, Hardy began to blame himself, complaining about why he left the mage

alone to enter the arena, knowing that a mage is very vulnerable without the protection of

warriors! Mark kept telling Hardy, "Vincent is a powerful wizard. He'll be fine."

On the fourth day, Hardy could no longer sit still. He took his double-headed sword and

began to leave. Today he decided to go to the house of the Dark Elves and see what they

had done to the Wizard!

Mark put all his strength into it, but he couldn't hold the warrior back. Stone Legs boss was

also alarmed, he thought of the first family's terrible, but also tried his best to stop the soldier's

reckless action.

At this time, the wizard who had been missing for many days finally appeared at the door of

the hotel. He looked discomfated and exhausted. He had pressed all his weight on the scepter

in his hand, and was so weak that he could barely stand on the black iron scepter. His once

neat hair now fell over his shoulders; His eyes were swollen and bloodshot, as if he had not

slept at all these days; His lips, cracked and slightly open, slowly exhaling the air from his lungs;

His priestly robes were basically rags that could barely hang on him; On his bare arms and

legs, you could see countless wounds, some already closed, some still fresh, and bright red

marks all over his white skin.

"I, I am back..." Vincent says this with a wry smile and falls back.

Hardy and Mark helped the mage upstairs to his room, while Stonelegs rushed out. He was

able to buy some healing potions through his connections. At this point, a mage who had

suffered so much damage was not going to die in his own inn, especially when he had heard

that the mage was an advisor to the First Family. If his delay had been irreparable, his head

would not have been on his neck.

In the evening, Vincent woke up, which made everyone present let out a great sigh of relief.

Hardy had been wondering what serious thing had happened to Vincent, but the Wizard did

not want to go into details.

"Nothing. The Dark Elves have arranged a few battles to test my strength. I was lucky enough

to pass. Everyone rest early, it is estimated that there will be another big task in a few days,

and after that, it is estimated that our purpose can be achieved."

Hardy kept looking at Vincent with a puzzled and skeptical eye. He did not believe that any

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test could have caused the Mage such injuries. However, since the Mage himself did not want

to say anything, he could not ask him anything. However, he decided that he could no longer

let his companions face possible danger alone.

Mark watched Vincent recover and went to sleep at ease. In his mind, nothing else mattered

as long as his companions were well. As long as they were able to leave the city soon, of

course.

Vincent stayed awake while the two friends were asleep. It was not that he did not want to

sleep, but that he could not. In the three days behind the iron gate, his nerves had always

been tense, every minute of every second in preparation for the attack of "them", the danger

lurking in the darkness made him unable to rest. He really did not expect that a dark elf family

should have such a strong fighting force, those crazy warriors, those monsters with powers

can launch an offensive like the tide.

Vincent stretched out his right hand, palm upward slowly spread five fingers, a group of silver

light appeared above his hand, suspended there to become a round ball, the surface of the

ball constantly emerge strange words. The silver ball turned slowly, giving the Master's eyes

a metallic sheen. Vincent whispers to Valentine, who lurks in his left arm: "Don't tell anything

about what happens inside. Valentine, look at the ball I've made now."

"Very... Strong." Valentine's voice, slightly quivering, began slowly, "Next time there's a terrible

fight like that, don't wake me up again. I, I don't want to go through that again."

'Yes, but if you hadn't kept watch for me, I'd have been killed preparing the spell.' Vincent

clenched his fist and the ball of light disappeared. "But I don't have to prepare any more spells

after that, do I, Valentine?"

"You are not so different from a monster now, that you use magic so rudely. Even the Great

Arcane of old wouldn't have done that! '

'It was all forced out.' Vincent smiled helplessly, "Shelley, should I thank you, or should I..."

The master sat down on the bed with his back against the wall and closed his eyes.

Hardy's snoring seemed so regular, always at the same intervals. His eyes, closed, still had a

small slit.

.....................

In the basement of some house, an old man with a hunched back was reading a report by

the dim light of a candle. Not far in front of him was kneeling a kobold.

"So there's going to be some big action from the First family?" "He asked, but only as if he

were talking to himself." What else do you hear?"

"The family's most recent adviser, Fass, has escaped from the basement." The Kobolds'

common language, spoken in a decidedly non-standard way.

"The basement? What's the point?" The hunchbacked old man frowned. "Well, get out of here.

I'll find you again."

The Kobold nodded and turned to leave, only to be pinned to the ground by three darts flying

from behind, before he could even scream.

The old man drew his right hand back and touched his chin, as if he hadn't just shot the darts.

At this moment, the old man finally stood up straight, the hunchback disappeared without a

trace: "The basement, is it not the sealed room? No, it can't be. No matter how strong he is,

he won't get out alive."

He walked over to the table, brushed a map of the architecture of the entire city of Prudence,

put his finger on the Tavern, and said softly, "What part do you play?"

.....................

"No! He must be killed! Give the order, sister!" Sinafi looked at Zena, who was silent, and then

at Regula, who was standing with his hands on one side. "What are you worried about? Afraid

of pathetic Shelley? She was not a priest, though the mother doted on her. What was there

to fear?"

"No, Shelley was not a priestess. She will never be a priestess. Why are you afraid of her?"

Zena put away her whip. At her feet, a dark elf had been beaten to a pulp. She kicked the

dark elf, heard the creature breathing, and turned to look at her sister. "If there is a threat, my

sister must be the most threatening in your eyes, right?"

'How could it be? Sister, you are the mightest of all the Drools, and the next mistress must be

you." Siphina smiled and said, "I was only trying to gain some light, and, sister, you saw how

arrogant that sorcerer was today! Must teach him a lesson!"

"Regula, what is the strength of that mage? You have fought him." Zeina patted the monk on

the shoulder.

"His strength is still good and he has quick reflexes. But..." The monk shrugged his shoulders.

"I have everything under control. He is no match for me."

"Well, go ahead. My sister and I have something to talk about." "Zeina said, pulling out the

snake whip from her waist.

Sefina's eyes were scared but at the same time excited and expectant.

The monk left the room and closed the door, no longer listening to the lewd voices. He rubbed

his shoulders. "Master, that was really interesting. You may have enough strength..."

...........................

"Whoo, can you get out of there or not? Shelley finished her meditation and dropped gently

from her floating state to the ground. She picked up the veil and draped it over her sweaty

shoulders. "If you are not strong enough, how can you save me? Alas... '

...........................

The night, Prudence City, has never been so calm as it is tonight. The tempest, however, slowly

gathers strength in its calm.