Silence descended upon the hall once more.
Lia leaned against a stone pillar with her arms crossed, her ash-white ponytail hanging beside her shoulder.
Her gaze rested on Morgan's face, lingering for a long moment before she spoke.
"Time is running out."
Her voice was not loud, but every word fell like a stone into a deep well, carrying a heavy echo.
"This time, the City of a Thousand Towers has dispatched almost all surrounding forces, except for the Legendary mages guarding the magic towers."
"Edwin brought two Mid-tier Legendary assassins, along with High-tier Transcendent figures from the core families, totaling nearly a hundred people."
She paused briefly.
"They will not return empty-handed."
Everyone's eyes turned toward Morgan.
Beside the stone table, Cedric still stood there, his left arm hanging limp. The throbbing pain in his shoulder blade caused his brow to knit together slightly, but his eyes never left Morgan.
He was waiting.
Waiting for an answer.
Morgan did not raise his head.
His hands propped up his forehead, fingers thrust into his silver-white hair like a hollowed-out stone statue.
"Morgan."
Cedric spoke up. His voice was no longer as raspy as before; instead, it was frighteningly calm.
"If you choose to surrender just like this, then I will leave the sanctuary."
Lia's brows twitched slightly, but she did not speak.
Cedric took a step forward, his boots crunching softly on the rubble.
He bent down, bringing his line of sight level with Morgan's.
The emotions swirling within those blood-red eyes were complex.
Anger, disappointment, unwillingness, and a sliver of near-desperate resolve suppressed deep down.
"I would rather perish together with them than bow my head to criminals who committed utter atrocities against my family and my companions."
His voice was very quiet, yet every word was like a nail driven into the ears of everyone present.
"If you choose to give up..."
"...then I will save everyone in my own way."
Morgan's fingers trembled slightly.
Cedric stared fixedly into his eyes.
He was searching—searching to see if what he wanted to see was in there.
Decisiveness, courage, or even just a sliver of unwillingness to yield.
Yet all he read was exhaustion, along with a deep, suffocating weakness.
Cedric's gaze changed.
It was not anger, but disappointment.
And then, that disappointment turned into a sense of relief.
He straightened up, stepped back, and his voice returned to that raspy texture, like sandpaper grinding against stone.
"Morgan, I hope your concession... yields the result you want."
He turned around and walked toward the corner of the hall.
A few weapons and pieces of armor were piled there.
He squatted down, putting on the scattered equipment piece by piece.
He sheathed his dagger into his waist scabbard, tucked a short blade behind his lower back, fastened his chestplate, and adjusted the angle of his shoulder guards.
The movements of his left shoulder were visibly stiff, the swelling and pain making his fingers unruly.
Yet he gritted his teeth, forcing every strap to pull as tight as possible.
Lia watched him, remaining silent for a few moments.
Then she let out a sigh.
It was a long exhale, as though uprooting something deep within her chest.
Uncrossing her arms, she straightened up from the stone pillar and walked to Cedric's side.
She did not speak; she simply picked up the remaining leather armor from the ground and quietly put it on.
Then she tied her loose hair back into a ponytail and tightened her belt.
She drew her dagger, glanced at its blade, and sheathed it once more.
The two of them were fully armed.
Cedric did not look at Lia, but the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.
It wasn't a smile, merely an indescribable curve born of mutual understanding.
He turned around and walked toward the hall entrance.
Lia followed behind him.
Hewlett had been standing off to the side, his shield leaning against his leg, remaining silent.
He watched Cedric and Lia's departing figures, silent for a long time.
Then he turned around and walked over to the two captive half-demon warriors.
The two half-demon warriors knelt on the ground, their wrists tied until purple, heads bowed, not daring to look at anyone.
Hewlett crouched down and used his dagger to cut the ropes around their wrists.
His movements were gentle, as if afraid of cutting into their flesh.
Once the ropes snapped, deep red marks showed on the two warriors' wrists, their flesh raw and oozing beads of blood.
Hewlett did not look at the wounds; he merely laid their hands down gently and patted one of them on the shoulder.
"They won't succeed."
His voice was not loud, but the hall was silent, making every word crystal clear.
"For an assassin, losing stealth is like losing a leg."
"Under this vast perception veil, Cedric and Lia's movements will be almost entirely exposed to the enemy's eyes."
"Edwin will not stand by and let them rescue anyone."
"They cannot defeat Edwin, but they won't allow themselves to fall into his hands either."
"This might be the last time we see them, Morgan."
Morgan's fingers tightened around the fabric over his knees.
"I know."
His voice was very faint, like a falling leaf.
He turned his head and looked at Hewlett.
This human knight was in his early forties, his face carved with lines of weather and hardship.
Yet between his brows and eyes, one could still glimpse the composure cultivated during his youth in Dawn City's noble circles.
He came from a prestigious house, reaching Legendary rank in his early forties.
He could have enjoyed an opulent life in Dawn City.
Possessing a grand mansion, servants, endless stipends, and an inexhaustible stream of banquets.
Yet in the end, he followed a group of half-demons to this remote Forbidden Zone.
Starving, hunted, unable to even get a full meal.
"Hewlett."
Morgan's voice sounded somewhat raspy.
"You should leave."
Hewlett looked at him without a word.
"You have no half-demon blood."
Morgan's voice was flat, as though stating something that required no debate.
"The perception veil overhead cannot capture you. Edwin won't stop you from leaving. After all..."
He gave a bitter smile.
"Even though you committed such an act as helping half-demons escape the City of a Thousand Towers, you are still a member of the Silver Hand."
"The Silver Hand Knights of Dawn City, Legendary Knight Hewlett Grant."
"No matter how arrogant Edwin is, he won't want to burn bridges with the Silver Hand."
Hewlett remained silent for a few moments.
Then he shook his head.
"I won't leave."
Morgan opened his mouth, wanting to say something more.
Hewlett raised a hand, cutting him off.
"I came here neither for you, nor for the half-demons."
His voice was not loud, but every word was steady.
"It was for righteousness and faith."
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