Chapter 3

The marble floor of Winterhold City Hall reflected my blood and mud-stained coat.

The magistrate who received me looked grave as he carefully reviewed the evidence and dark magic imprints I submitted, righteously assuring me: "Imperial law is absolutely fair. Regardless of the Valen family's background, as long as the evidence is solid, the City Hall and Mage Council will immediately file a case and give your sister justice."

I believed him. Or rather, I forced myself to believe in this last bit of mortal justice in the world.

However, instead of righteous judgment, what came was retaliation.

That very night, in an abandoned shelter, dozens of fully armed night guards kicked down the door.

Leading them was the Mage Council's enforcement squad. Without presenting any arrest warrant, they directly locked heavy "magic-prohibition shackles" around my neck and wrists.

"Kane Aldridge, you are suspected of forging evidence, colluding with dark forces, and attempting to extort a noble wizard family!" The squad captain sneered as he read my "charges."

I didn't resist, only looked at them calmly, allowing them to cast me into the deepest level of Winterhold's underground "Magic Prohibition Prison."

This was originally a top-secret cage the Empire used specifically to imprison out-of-control ability users and defecting dragon knights.

At midnight, Viktor's father—Winterhold's Chief Grand Mage Valen—came to my cell door, surrounded by several City Hall officials.

"A bottom-feeding maggot actually thought he could shake us with a few pieces of paper?" Old Valen looked down at me condescendingly, his eyes full of mockery. "In Winterhold, I am the Mage Council, and he is the City Hall! Even dragon knight inspectors sent from the capital have to watch our faces here! Those big lizards flying in the sky and the Empire's lackeys riding them will eventually be replaced by our dark magic. And you? Tomorrow morning, you'll be secretly executed."

They left laughing, leaving only the nauseating stench of corruption.

I finally understood—from City Hall to the Mage Council, the entire city's officials were birds of a feather.

They not only shielded dark magic but were even covertly resisting the dragon knight order of the Empire's high command. My so-called "legal procedures" were nothing but a joke to them.

Just as I prepared to tear off the shackles, a slight metallic scraping sound rang out.

The cell door was quietly pushed open. An old prison guard named Arthur entered. He was one of the very few "watchers" in Winterhold still unwilling to collude with darkness.

"Go quickly, child." Arthur was drenched in sweat, using a stolen master key to unlock my door, shoving a rusty iron sword into my hands. "Tomorrow morning they're going to brand your sister with a permanent soul corruption mark! I've been in this hellhole for thirty years—I'm sick of these man-eating beasts. Follow the sewers and run!"

Looking at this stranger trembling as he risked everything to save me, a complex emotion flickered through my cold heart.

We retreated through the dark passage toward the exit, but just as we were about to reach it, a piercing alarm suddenly echoed throughout the underground prison.

"We've been discovered!" Arthur's face turned deathly pale. He forcefully pushed me through the ventilation shaft, but got stuck himself at the iron grating. "Run! Don't look back! Live on with your sister!"

"Arthur!"

Just as I was about to intervene, a ghostly green dark magic death ray shot from deep in the passage, instantly piercing Arthur's chest.

The old man's body stiffened violently, his eyes fixed on the grating direction, blood gushing out as he collapsed on the spot.

In that moment, I felt a string maintaining my sanity completely snap in my mind.

At dawn.

I stood in the shadow of Winterhold's crumbling walls. Through the morning mist, I saw Arthur's broken body cruelly hanged at the center of the city gates, his chest bearing a wooden sign written in blood: "Accomplice of Rioters, Death to Those Who Defy the Rules."

Cold wind brushed my face. I touched the rusty mortal iron sword Arthur had pressed into my hands.

I raised my head. Through tens of thousands of meters of thick cloud layer, I locked eyes with my dragon's furious golden vertical pupils in absolute communion.