I will be crowned king

The moment he pushed the door open, the intense blood rushed into his face like a substance.

The stench of plasma and decay mixed with the ashes floating in the brazier continued to rise and surge in the unbearably hot prison, filling every nerve of the intruder.

Fabian, who was standing behind Anson, had an expressionless face and his hands firmly pressed against his lower back; the two grenadiers responsible for surveillance had livid faces and pursed their mouths to cover up their physical discomfort.

In order to dig out information from the indigenous people, Anson specially prepared a separate cell for him, with a fire pit, a warm bed, a set of warm enough clothes, and two meals a day, eating the same food as the soldiers. He also requested that no soldier be allowed to enter the cell or do any surveillance on him except when providing food.

There is only one purpose, to relax his vigilance to himself as much as possible.

Anson walked towards the iron fence of the house. The "beast slave" he brought back was naked and leaning against the wall quietly; the cold body had been completely dyed red with blood.

A quarter of the head has been completely broken, and the entire face is almost unrecognizable. There is another huge crack on the cheek starting from the left eye socket. The left eyeball shattered into a puddle of shapeless goo on the wall, and the right eyeball The bulge was about to fall out of the eye socket, and the blood was mixed with bone residue and other "colors", covering the entire wall.

The enlarged mouth and the teeth on the tongue seemed to indicate the last scream before death.

In the corner next to the bed, there were piles of rotten and smelly food and torn clothes, dyed red by the plasma sprayed across the room, like a pool of sticky...

Anson sighed, his solemn eyes showing a flash of helplessness.

"Who discovered it first?"

"Uh...it's me!"

The pale-faced grenadier stepped forward from behind the door. He raised his right hand as if subconsciously, and pressed the butt of the rifle in his arms with his left hand, looking very nervous.

"When did you discover the abnormality?" Anson asked without looking back.

"Seven-thirty! Today...it's my turn to deliver food to him."

The grenadier stuttered in his answer.

"Did you notice anything strange?"

"No, no!"

"No...didn't you even hear the sound?"

"Uh...I heard it...but I'm used to it."

"Are you used to it?" Anson turned around suddenly and stared at the grenadier.

"He looks like this every day!"

The grenadier looked panicked and stammered an explanation: "At first it seemed that he wanted to escape. After he found that the cell was very solid, he started... and started banging his head against the wall, and kept hitting the wall!"

"We tried to stop him at first, but it was useless; even if he was shackled, he would bang his head against the wall or the floor..."

"Why wasn't there a report?"

Fabian said coldly, his expression a little unsightly.

It was really a great irony for a former Guards officer that such an important prisoner died inexplicably in the cell monitored by his subordinates.

"We reported to the platoon leader!"

Although Fabian's back was turned to him, the grenadier still shivered for no reason: "But after sending someone to check, nothing abnormal was found. The prisoner's body is quite strong, the walls are somewhat worn, and his head is only damaged. It's just a little scratch, I didn't expect it to happen..."

"enough!"

Anson interrupted the grenadier who wanted to continue explaining, and stretched out three fingers on his right hand: "I will ask the last three questions."

"Uh...yes!"

"First question, apart from the two of you, has anyone been here before?"

"No!"

"Are you sure?"

"We work in shifts and it's impossible for anyone else to come in."

"Second, did he say anything or make some kind of sound before?"

"No - he didn't say anything except yelling."

"...Finally, when did he start banging his head against the wall?"

"The first day we came here - we reported it right away and we didn't find anything unusual."

"Very good, you can go out."

The two grenadiers left the cell as if running for their lives, not forgetting to close the door behind them.

A minute later, deathly silence returned to the room.

"What did you find?"

Fabian, with his hands behind his back, slowly stepped forward and stood carefully behind Anson, focusing entirely on the corpse with a broken skull.

The brazier has been extinguished, and the atmosphere in the increasingly cold cell seems to be cooling down at the same time.

"Nothing." Anson shook his head with a helpless expression:

"Both of them did not lie. No one has entered this cell. There are no signs of forced destruction on the door, iron bars, walls... and there are no tunnels around it. Except for the two grenadiers, the prisoners have no No one has ever been seen - nor is it possible to see anyone.”

The smell in the cell made Anson subconsciously take out his pipe, but he did not light it immediately; he opened the cell door and walked into the cell with Fabian one behind the other.

"The torn clothes in the corner, and the dumped food... It can be assumed that he originally planned to starve to death or freeze to death, but in the end he failed, so he decided to commit suicide using the original method."

Smash your own head alive.

"But there's another question. Why did he commit suicide?" Fabian frowned slightly, then said after careful consideration:

"We provided him with a fairly comfortable room, warm clothes and plenty of food, without any physical or mental harm to him, and we didn't even conduct regular surveillance - as far as I know, the White Whale Harbor Hundreds Ninety-nine out of 10 beast slaves cannot enjoy the same treatment as him."

"What could possibly make him want to die so urgently that he would even break his head alive for this goal?"

This is also where Fabian is most confused.

If he had long been unable to bear the humiliation and could not bear the life of a slave, he would not have waited until now; if not, then he would not have committed suicide at this time.

And smashed his head into pieces... As a former Guards officer, Fabian felt that his experience was sufficient to make a judgment. This was not as simple a matter as it seemed.

He has seen countless prisoners who are worse off than death and want to die, and he has also seen people who have lost the motivation to live and choose to commit suicide; but no matter which one, he can smash his own head.

To do this requires not only determination, but also absolute calmness, sufficient strength and a little skill; what on earth could make a person do this to kill himself?

Unless...he didn't do it on his own initiative, but was...

Fabian looked up at Anson with a thoughtful expression.

"I know what you are thinking." Anson faced Fabian's gaze while biting his pipe, and responded calmly:

"Sadly, no."

If someone or himself used magic in the military camp, there was no way that Anson would not be aware of that momentary reaction and the residue afterward.

Even if he didn't, Ansem still couldn't believe that any spellcaster could use magic under the eyes of Thalia August Rune and leave peacefully as if nothing happened.

This is simply impossible.

Regarding Anson's answer, Fabian fell into silence at first, and then said meaningfully: "Even so, you shouldn't tell me...at least, not so directly."

"It doesn't matter."

Anson shrugged and smiled at him with his pipe in his mouth: "At least in private, I believe that my Grenadier Commander is absolutely loyal."

"This is really...a very high evaluation, surprising." Fabian was surprised at first, then chuckled a few times, put one hand on his chest and saluted Anson:

"I hope that my loyalty is worthy of the sincerity you have given me."

"Then I'm looking forward to your performance." Anson, who was holding a pipe, turned around and pretended to be casual.

His identity as a spell caster had already been exposed when the two met for the first time, and there was little point in continuing to hide it; instead of continuing to act stupid, it was better to confess directly to save the two of them communication time.

In the following time, the two of them carefully searched every corner of the room and inspected the indigenous body from head to toe. It was basically certain that he had not been abused in any way and that he indeed actively sought death.

Anson could probably guess that the other party's death was probably related to him. The moment he turned on the "superpower", the other party noticed the reaction of the caster in him.

but why?

Just because he was a spell caster and was captured alive by a spell caster, he had to commit suicide, and in such an extreme way?

The New World is the edge of the world of order and the place of exile for the entire world of order. All those who have lost hope in the old continent are constantly coming to this land to become pioneers.

Most of these people are ordinary people, and of course there is no shortage of adventurers who are eager to challenge themselves and have the power of blood; there are also many spellcasters who are hunted everywhere and have to leave their homes...

Although Anson formed the Alliance of the Promise Keepers in an attempt to win over the Circle of Order believers in the colony, this does not mean that he believes that there are no carefully hidden spellcasters in White Whale Port, nor does he think that he is the first spellcaster discovered by the natives. people.

In this case, what other reason did he have to commit suicide?

secret?

Well, this is possible...

"boom!"

The cell door was suddenly opened, and a hurried, thin figure suddenly rushed in.

"Alan?"

Looking at the figure holding on to the wall and breathing heavily, Anson was stunned for a moment: "Is something wrong?"

"Sorry to interrupt your conversation with Lieutenant Colonel Fabian... ugh!"

The little clerk was startled at first, then bent down and retched in pain, "Plop!" and fell to his knees with a sound.

Fabian stepped forward and helped him out of the door, followed by Anson and left the cell.

"Major Carl Bain... He is currently in Beluga Harbor City. Let me come back quickly and tell you the situation." The little clerk got up out of breath, with vomit residue still left at the corner of his mouth:

"Our soldiers were attacked... by Aboriginal people."

I have a cold and don’t want to move...