Lord Evolution: Starting With SS-rank Skills - Chapter 267

Chapter 267: The Cult (37)
“I found one captive over here.”

The voice of the spy knight resonated in the minds of D’andre and the other spy knights. The spy knight had given them his location, and they soon arrived in front of the cell holding Dragun.

Dragun was unconscious, his clothes badly torn, his face bloodied with bruises and swelling that made it extremely difficult for anyone to recognize him.

It took D’andre several minutes before he finally recognized him.

“Dragun??”

He uttered the name with a deep frown etched on his face.

“You know him? He was abducted alongside the lord of a small village.”

“Yeah, I know him—he’s the father of the guy who brought me to this place,” D’andre replied.

The spy knights exchanged curious glances, wondering who could be so important to D’andre that the wealthiest and most powerful merchant would personally risk everything to rescue him.

Using sheer brute strength, the spy knights shattered the cell and gently carried Dragun’s unconscious body outside, laying him softly on the ground.

D’andre accessed his inventory and equipped a powerful healing potion. He carefully pried open Dragun’s mouth and poured the liquid inside.

The healing potion took effect immediately.

Dragun’s body was bathed in a pale green glow that brightened over the areas most in need of healing.

The wounds on his face were slowly concealed under the vigilant gaze of the spy knights, and the swelling gradually disappeared as well.

COUGH! COUGH!!

Dragun coughed as he awoke, his eyes fluttering open abruptly.

He was met by the familiar face of D’andre and the unfamiliar, yet determined, faces of the spy knights gazing down at him.

As his mind gradually rebooted, Dragun recalled the harrowing abduction and the weeks of torment he had endured, and his body shivered in response.

“How are you feeling, Dragun?”

D’andre’s steady voice pulled him back to reality.

“You? Are you working for the cult?” Dragun demanded, his voice laced with disbelief—he had not expected to see D’andre there.

Moreover, the presence of the unfamiliar spy knights deepened his suspicions even further.

D’andre shook his head firmly and helped Dragun to his feet.

He explained everything in careful detail, convincing Dragun that he was not allied with the cult, and only then did Dragun begin to relax.

During their discussion, Dragun’s eyes landed on the corpses littering the ground—most felled by sword wounds. Observing that the spy knights were armed with swords, he became convinced they had truly come to rescue him.

But he soon sensed that something was missing.

“Did you happen to battle any white-haired archmages? There were two of them—one with long hair and the other with short hair?”

Dragun asked, his voice trembling as though merely naming them might summon their presence.

The spy knights simply shook their heads.

“There were no archmages among those we killed. The strongest foes we faced weren’t even up to Tier-2. Why do you ask?” one of the spy knights inquired.

Dragun’s eyes widened as he realized they were still in grave danger—without those two dead, all their efforts might be for nothing.

So preoccupied was he with the whereabouts of those two nemeses that he momentarily forgot Rowan and Riela were also captives of the cult.

“Your son—we didn’t find him or his wife. Do you know where the cult took them?” D’andre asked the frustrated Dragun.

Dragun’s eyes widened further as a memory finally surfaced.

“I know where they are.”

With that, Dragun began walking in a determined direction, and the others followed closely behind him.

He arrived before a plain section of the wall and began muttering a chant.

As he chanted, the wall started to morph magically, and soon a huge, heavy door materialized. He pushed it open, revealing a place filled with chaos.

The confinement still trembled chaotically with the clamor of other captives fretting and scrambling, desperate to find a way out.

The noise outside persisted, echoing with uncertain menace.

Meanwhile, Rowan, Riela, Eliman, and a few other captives remained in their pools—some meditating, others discussing the precarious situation, while a few simply watched without uttering a single word.

Riela continued her meditation, while Rowan and Eliman engaged in animated conversation.

“You’re a fief chief??”

Eliman asked, disbelief thick in his voice after Rowan had introduced himself.

Rowan nodded steadily.

“How is that even possible? You barely look twenty, and yet you’re already a fief chief! Even if you were in charge of just one village, that would be hard to believe—but two villages? How did that come about?”

Eliman’s reaction gave Rowan a subtle boost of ego.

“Well, you could say I’m exceptionally special and smart,” he boasted confidently.

Eliman nodded thoughtfully, though he still found it hard to believe that someone so much younger could command a territory. It was no wonder, he mused, that such a remarkable man had also won the heart of a beautiful wife.

The two continued their discussion, sharing past stories and memorable experiences.

Eliman spoke of his magical journey, recounting the unique monsters he had battled and the mysterious dungeons he had explored, while Rowan recounted his feats during the war his village had fought and the significant improvements he had managed to bring to his territory.

He also mentioned the windmill and sewing machine, which immediately captivated Eliman’s interest.

“Wow!! Those are incredible—I’ve never even heard of anything like that before. If I could bring something like that back home, it would really help the farmers and tailors by saving them time and energy,” Eliman remarked with genuine excitement.

“Well, if we manage to leave this place, we could definitely do business,” Rowan replied with a hopeful smile.

“Are you sure we’ll be able to get out of here?” Eliman pressed, his tone laced with concern.

Rowan nodded, even though he wasn’t entirely certain himself.

Almost as if his nod had activated a hidden switch, the noise outside suddenly fell silent.

“It’s over?”

“There’s no sound coming from outside now,” someone observed.

“What happened?”

The captives began to murmur among themselves.

Their panic escalated noticeably as the external clamor died down.

If the commotion outside had ceased and the cult remained intact, their punishment would be inevitable.

Some of the captives fearfully retreated back to their assigned pools, while a few continued punching and kicking the wall frantically, desperate to tear it down.

Minutes passed, and suddenly the wall of the confinement emitted a loud sound suggesting it was moving; soon they noticed the wall shifting, and a door that hadn’t been there before materialized and opened.

….

Almost simultaneously, in another space where hundreds of dark-robed cultists had gathered for a meeting, a loud beeping sound suddenly erupted, unleashing chaos.