Luke smiled faintly. "You understand, don't you? You're really not that important."
"Yeah. In the end, I'm nothing but a rat hiding in the shadows." Sylas did not deny it. He looked at Luke with a hint of regret in his eyes. "Right now, I just regret that I didn't get you earlier. I'm very curious. Is it because you've done so many punchable things in your life that you specifically trained your movement techniques to this level?"
He felt his surprise attack had been very successful, but he had not expected Luke to dodge it anyway. It seemed he had only managed to give him a minor scrape.
Luke laughed freely. "You guessed right."
That decisive admission made Sylas fall silent. He closed his eyes, using his actions to show that he no longer wanted to continue the conversation.
"Tomorrow is the day of your execution. I think you can spend this time quietly reflecting on the meaning of life. Tell me, why couldn't you just let things go? I feel like after you, I won't run into entertainment like you again for a very long time."
Luke's tone still carried a bit of regret. He sighed. "It seems we were never meant to last."
The corner of Sylas's mouth twitched. He really wanted to say something, but he held himself back.
If this was truly fate, then he felt his fate must be terrible.
Besides, lasting with a guy like this, to Sylas, would be even worse than killing him.
After saying that, Luke turned and left.
At the door, Dierde was waiting. When he saw Luke come out, he immediately went up to him. "Your Highness, before that guy inside is executed, would you like this subordinate to help you vent your anger again?"
"No need. Give him a good meal before he dies. I'll pay for it."
Luke waved his hand faintly.
"Yes, Your Highness."
Dierde immediately answered.
After Luke left, Dierde returned to Sylas's cell, but what he held in his hand was a long whip. He opened the cell door and, without a word, lashed the whip down.
Snap!
A crisp sound rang out, like flesh splitting open, exploding through the air like a firecracker.
The intense pain instantly made Sylas let out a muffled groan. The next second, he clenched his teeth, and a shocking whip mark immediately appeared on his body.
Then Dierde said coldly, "Your actions today made His Highness very unhappy, so he specifically instructed that even before you die, you shouldn't expect to have an easy time."
With that, another snap sounded as the whip came down heavily.
After only two lashes, Sylas's skin had already split open, blood flowing everywhere. It looked extremely terrifying.
The intense pain covered his forehead in sweat. He gritted his teeth hard and clenched his fists.
"Heh, heh, heh. I also have something I want to say to you."
The next second, Sylas laughed disdainfully and looked at Dierde with contempt. "You dog."
Rage surged across Dierde's face, and without another word, he lashed the whip down viciously again.
Every time the whip fell, Sylas's mind became even clearer.
Ten minutes later, Dierde walked out of the cell and tossed the blood-soaked whip aside. He bowed to the person in front of him. "Sir, Number Zero is already half-dead."
The person before him was none other than Eldred.
Hearing this, Eldred took out two bottles of medicine and handed them to Dierde. "The red one is to be taken orally. The blue one is to be applied externally. By tomorrow, his injuries will be recovered. Be careful, don't let anyone notice. If anything happens, come report to me."
"Yes!"
Dierde immediately answered, took the medicine, turned around again, and went back into the cell.
Eldred's gaze, meanwhile, rested faintly on the half-dead figure lying inside the cell. Then he turned and left without looking back.
On the way home, evening had already fallen.
Inside the carriage, Luke lifted the curtain and quietly looked out at the scenery along the street, watching one harmonious scene after another.
As time passed, he had become quite familiar with the streets of the capital. He was no longer like he had been at first, unfamiliar with everything after entering the city, like some bumpkin from the countryside.
Perhaps it was precisely because he had grown used to all of this that, while looking at it, he could not help feeling that everything was beautiful.
After a while, he lowered the curtain, leaned against the wall of the carriage, and quietly began to think.
At present, the Research Institute's direction of development was correct.
Technology would bring a magical power to an era and make it advance rapidly.
But right now, that was not what Demacia needed most.
For more than a hundred years, this noble nation that revered justice had followed the same path as any nation in any era.
Most likely, its final outcome would not be very different either.
And if he wanted to change that outcome, he had to solve the problem from its root.
Luke felt that the time when everything would be ripe was approaching.
For that day, he had already prepared for a long time.
By the time he returned home, the sky had gone dark. A few scattered bright stars dotted the night sky.
Looking up at the night, Luke's heart was unexpectedly calm.
In the palace.
Jarvan III's office.
Xin Zhao pushed open the door and presented the events that had happened at the prison that afternoon in the form of a memorial.
Jarvan III, who was reviewing memorials, took it and opened it. After glancing through it, his eyes flickered slightly.
He said nothing. He simply placed the memorial to the side and continued reviewing the others.
Xin Zhao also stood quietly at the side.
At Russell's estate.
In the slightly quiet mansion, Russell stood by the window, his head raised slightly as he looked at the crescent moon quietly revealing one corner in the sky. The night sky was reflected in his calm, water-like eyes.
Behind him stood Tourt, bowing as if he were reporting something.
Beside him stood several ministers.
At the Mageseekers' headquarters.
In Eldred's office.
Night had fallen, but the lamps had not been lit, leaving the room very dark.
Clear moonlight poured in through the open window and shone on Eldred.
His gaze calmly watched the fountain in the open space outside.
For many people, this night was especially hard to sleep through, yet it also passed especially quickly.
It was as if, in the blink of an eye, the night had hurried by.
The next day, dawn broke.
On the streets, newspaper boys shouted with all their strength.
"Extra, extra! At noon today, a major felon will be executed at the execution grounds! According to reports, it's the infamous number one mage from fifteen years ago!"
The clear cries, paired with just a few short sentences, drew plenty of attention.
It had been some time since a death-row prisoner had appeared in the capital, so the news quickly spread everywhere and attracted the attention of many people.
Before noon had even arrived, quite a few onlookers had already gathered outside the execution grounds.
They were discussing the prisoner who was about to be sentenced to death.
"The infamous mage from fifteen years ago? Who is it?"
"I heard it's Sylas of Dregbourne."
"That name... why does it sound so familiar?"
"It sounds familiar to me too. I think I heard it when I was little. Apparently, fifteen years ago, he attacked a Mageseeker squad and caused a lot of deaths. Afterward, he fled all over the place, causing destruction everywhere. The Mageseekers had to put in a huge effort before they finally caught him."
"A prisoner from fifteen years ago? Why is he only being executed today?"
"Now that, you don't know. Fifteen years ago, when Sylas caused such a disaster, he was still underage."
"Hiss... He was that young and already nearly left even the Mageseekers helpless?"
"That's why people say mages are dangerous."
"When are they ever going to catch all these mages?"
"Wait, that's not right. After fifteen years, he should have been an adult long ago. Why is he being executed today of all days?"
"Now that's inside gossip. I heard this guy offended His Highness the Second Prince. In his anger, His Highness the Second Prince brought up the old case again and ordered him executed."
"This guy's got some nerve. Is His Highness the Second Prince someone he can afford to offend?"
The crowd talked all over the place, discussing it everywhere.
Some were there purely to watch the spectacle. Others were deeply immersed in it, speaking endlessly about what had happened back then as if they had personally experienced it.
More and more people came to know the name Sylas of Dregbourne, and they showed different attitudes toward what he had done back then.
Some even strongly supported the decision to execute Sylas.
More and more people gathered around, nearly surrounding the execution grounds so tightly that not even water could pass through.
More and more people began paying attention to this execution.
As the guards appeared and began organizing order at the scene, and as the sunlight grew stronger and stronger, noon was about to arrive.
Soon, from the direction of the prison, a group appeared in the crowd's field of vision.
At the front were several guards riding horses. They wore silver armor and the iconic blue cloaks, with several more following behind them.
In the middle of them, a black-haired prisoner was covered in shackles. The chain around his neck was held by a guard leading him forward, and even the chains around his wrists and ankles had heavy iron balls attached to their ends.
Every step he took was incredibly difficult. He looked extremely slow, as if filled with exhaustion. His face was expressionless. Black hair hung down over his forehead, and no emotion could be seen in his dark eyes.
Soon, the people opened a path on their own. Every pair of eyes looked at Sylas, sizing him up.
"Those really are a murderer's eyes. No emotion at all."
"The aura around him is terrifying."
"So this is the infamous mage from back then?"
"Heh, so what if he was powerful? He still ended up a prisoner."
"Does no one think he's pitiful?"
"You're sympathizing with a mage?"
All kinds of voices rose from the crowd, disgust, hatred, sympathy, slander, curses, sighs, pity.
Under the incitement of some anti-magic fanatics, many civilians had an extremely hostile attitude toward mages.
But other than those, such voices were not the only ones present.
Fifteen years had passed, and in truth, not many people genuinely knew what had happened to Sylas back then.
Most of the stories people told had been rumors passed from mouth to mouth, becoming more and more exaggerated with each retelling.
Some claimed Sylas was a villain who could kill nearly a hundred people without blinking.
Yet more people thought of something else. Back then, Sylas had only been a minor. Was he really that ruthless?
Or rather, was what he represented, "mage," truly all that kind of thing?
As newspapers entered people's lives, all kinds of books had also filled the public's understanding. Later, newspapers unlocked more and more sections.
Comics, novels, and short stories also successfully became part of people's lives.
This broadened their vision and gave them a greater ability to think independently.
Among them, one book titled Complete Records of Runeterra was especially loved by the people.
The book described knowledge and content about various places in Runeterra, Ionia, Shurima, Piltover, and even Noxus and the Freljord.
The customs, cultures, and people of each place, all of that rich content allowed people to see a fuller and more vibrant Runeterra.
Mages, it seemed, were not something strange on this land.
As Sylas was escorted onto the execution platform, everyone's attention also fell there.
He was pressed down beneath the chopping block, his body fixed in place and unable to move. It seemed he was only a few final moments away from death.
At that moment, a commotion came from the crowd.
"It's His Highness the Second Prince!"
"His Highness Luke!"
"His Highness the Prince came to watch the punishment too!"
Many people quickly noticed a carriage driving over from afar. Without a doubt, it was a royal carriage.
The curtain of the carriage was lifted, revealing Luke's face.
His still, water-like eyes met Sylas's gaze on the execution platform for an instant. Then he lowered the curtain.
The carriage did not leave. It seemed to wait quietly.
Before long, once noon arrived, a judge dressed in white slowly walked onto the execution platform.
The scene gradually quieted down.
"Sylas of Dregbourne, the council has reached a unanimous decision and determined you to be an irredeemable magic user."
The judge wore sacred white robes and stood beneath the sunlight, his voice fair and merciless as he delivered the sentence.
"The sins you have committed have at last come due. By the duty entrusted to me, I sentence you to death by beheading. By the Protectors above, all present shall bear witness. May you find light in the darkness of death."
The voice of judgment fell completely.
Then an executioner stepped onto the platform, his head and face covered in cloth with only his eyes exposed, holding a gleaming execution blade.
The executioner had a powerful build. No one doubted whether he could cut off the prisoner's head in a single stroke.
It seemed everything had reached its final moment.
Sylas lowered his head, scattered strands of black hair falling down. His eyes were calm, and his body did not move at all, as if he had already prepared himself to die.
But from the sides of his forehead, cold sweat still fell without leaving any visible trace.
Any person, when facing death, would feel fear.
Even Sylas was no exception.
At this moment, his heart beat like a drum, thudding faster and faster. The blood throughout his body seemed to flow backward as he suppressed the fear of death in his heart.
Saliva kept gathering in his throat, blocking all sound. It felt like a fishbone stuck there, so uncomfortable that he wanted to vomit.
As the executioner walked behind him, Sylas's heartbeat reached its limit in that instant. Sweat kept breaking out across his palms.
At this moment, even the sunlight falling from the sky felt painfully dazzling to Sylas.
His body was turning cold, cold without warning.
Would he die?
Would he truly die here?
Was everything really over?
"Execute him!"
The judge shouted loudly.
"Execute him!"
The executioner shouted as well, and the execution blade in his hand was about to swing down.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 30 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810