Charles’ face instantly became wary, as he silently took a step back while carefully choosing his words to brush him off: "I appreciate your rescue, Mage my lord. It’s an honor to have earned your favor..."
Regolas’ eyes flickered. His seasoned nature accurately caught the vigilance on Charles’ face.
Immediately, he couldn’t help but feel slightly confused: What’s going on? Why is this little guy growing wary right after my introduction?
My name couldn’t have been exposed, so...
This man must also have secrets—some past misdeeds—which is why he’s reacting this way?
Hah, seems I miscalculated.
But... this might actually work out better.
Though it means I can’t secure him tonight, in the long run, he might be an even more suitable candidate...
The corners of his mouth curled into a smile as he continued playing his original role, speaking kindly: "You seem injured. Come, let me take a look. I happen to know some healing spells."
With that, he stepped forward, reaching for Charles’ wrist.
Charles reflexively retreated again, his brain racing. He didn’t understand what this cambion wanted, but he knew one thing—whatever this guy planned, he was no match for him!
He couldn’t let him touch him!
But fighting wasn’t an option either—he’d lose instantly. So...
The moment the thought struck, Charles quickly steadied himself, then suddenly roared: "Does the Eighth Layer have no standards anymore?!"
Instantly, Regolas stiffened, his gaze turning uncertain: "What did you say?!"
Never had he imagined that his top-secret true identity would be exposed so bluntly!
Who was he? How did he know?!
Charles stared intently at Regolas. Seeing the ever-smiling cambion so shaken, he knew his first move had succeeded.
Now, he had to press the advantage—scare him off for good!
"You... understand exactly what I mean," he deliberately drawled, speaking slowly to the fiend camouflaged as a human. "Stand down, Regolas. If you don’t want your Master scolded and humiliated before the other seven Archdukes..."
"Then leave. Tonight. Fulfill your proper duties. I’ll pretend none of this ever happened..."
He coaxed carefully, his forehead slick with nervous sweat. Opposite him, Regolas was equally drenched.
How did he know all this?
Could he be an agent sent by Lord Asmodeus... or one of the Archdukes to the Material World?
His gaze locked onto Charles’ face, swiftly dismissing the thought.
What kind of agent would be sent in the form of someone so strikingly handsome, someone who’d stand out as the center of attention anywhere?
Not just that, but...
His overheated brain gradually cooled, analyzing the situation with meticulous precision.
Since when would an agent dispatched by an Archduke to the Material World possess such pitiful strength?
He’d just been trading blows with some lowly human warrior earlier, then nearly got himself killed by a rampaging monster!
This guy is definitely bluffing!
A suspicion took root in his mind, though he wasn’t yet certain. His eyes gleamed with arcane light as he studied Charles, then spoke slowly, "So that’s it. Thank you for the reminder, my lord. I’ll take my leave at once."
"Though... why would my lord find himself alone in such peril tonight? The roads remain unsafe. Perhaps I could serve as your guard—"
Charles’ brows snapped together. "Is that a question you’re entitled to ask?!"
Even as he spoke, his brain raced. He knew these scraps of information alone wouldn’t be enough to intimidate him. Frantically, he dredged up every scrap of the Archdevils’ secrets he could recall, searching for anything usable to drive him off.
"I bear no ill will toward your Master, Regolas. But heed my warning—curb your curiosity. Don’t meddle in affairs beyond your station." He paused, then delivered the blow: "After all, you wouldn’t want Zariel learning every detail of your Master’s plan to dam the River Styx in the First Layer, would you?"
The words struck like thunder. Regolas’ mind went blank. He staggered back, lips parting, yet no sound emerged—as if an invisible hand had seized his throat. "You—!"
How could he possibly know about the Styx dam project?!
The River Styx, the primordial flow that had coursed through all realms since creation. The souls of the dead, if unclaimed by divine envoys, were carried along its currents, their memories purged before rebirth or damnation.
And within its depths—an immeasurable hoard of souls. Naturally, for devils hungering for soul-energy, it was the richest mine imaginable. Damming the Styx meant stealing the core interests of every Archdevil across the Hells. The operation demanded absolute secrecy; even he had only recently been informed!
So how... how did he know?!
Was he truly some big shot after all?
But why was his Strength so feeble? And why was there not a single bodyguard by his side?
No, impossible—just who was he? Initially thought to be just an ordinary mortal, yet unexpectedly entangled in matters of such magnitude...
His mind was in turmoil, his expression flickering between shock and suspicion. As a direct agent of the Archdevil of Cania, the Eighth Hell, Regolas was undoubtedly intelligent—and the smarter the guy, the more paranoid he became. Especially after hearing Charles’ explosive revelations, his keen brain couldn’t stop racing, with all sorts of bizarre conjectures erupting in his mind!
Given his words, he couldn’t be a colleague... yet he knew the Master’s secret plans. Could it be... was he an agent of the Queen of the Erinyes?
Or perhaps her newest consort?
He couldn’t be sure, his thoughts in chaos—when suddenly, a voice rang out in his mind: "Regolas, why hesitate?"
"Never mind his words! Since your identity is exposed, just seize him, interrogate the truth, then purge his memory! Simple as that!"
Regolas’ heart lurched—the suggestion was audacious in the extreme. Yet, staring at Charles standing alone and pitifully weak, this audacious idea took root in his mind, growing uncontrollably!
I’m protecting classified intelligence. Even if I make a mistake, my intentions are good—the Archduke won’t blame me!
Trembling, he raised a hand, preparing to cast a spell at Charles.
Opposite him, seeing Regolas still refusing to back down, Charles’ heart leaped into his throat. The moment that hand lifted, his pupils constricted to pinpricks—
And in that instant, countless tendrils of black mist erupted from the ground. Thick, slimy, grotesquely enormous ink-green tentacles burst forth from the darkness, coiling around Regolas’ body in an instant!
Dark energy surged through the tentacles, sucking at the cambion’s magic and vitality, forcing an agonized snarl from his throat: "Hngh—hngh—HRRAAAAAGH—!"