Who Says All Saints Need To Be Good?

Chapter 97: King Girsal's Secret 3

In the union of human skill and mechanical ingenuity, the smithy churned out weapons of destruction, their sheer quantity a testament to the intentions of King Girsal.

The manufactured weapons were then immersed in an expansive basin, filled with an enigmatic, bluish-black liquid. Eva gracefully floated closer, her ethereal form inspecting the substance with a slightly grave expression. A furrow formed on her brow. "This is the blood of the Death Folk race. Yet, I sense no trace of Death Folk presence here, unless there exists a secret alliance between them and King Girsal. No wonder these weapons can inflict harm on a person's very soul," Eva uttered with a tinge of understanding, her gaze excited as she continued to tail King Girsal through the smithy.

Suddenly a man, towering at around ten feet tall, donning a mysterious blue mask, approached King Girsal with a respectful bow before locking eyes with him. "Your majesty, please where would you like to go?" the masked man inquired.

"Escort me to the Saintess!" King Girsal commanded, his voice dripping with authority. The man in the blue mask nodded in obedience.

"As you wish," he replied, his voice tinged with an air of respect. With measured steps, he guided King Girsal out of the weaponry room and into a grand hall.

Eva, observing their departure, couldn't help but be taken aback by the revelation. "The current Saintess is alive? No wonder I've sensed a formidable surge of holy energy ever since I came down here!" Eva exclaimed, her voice tinged with astonishment, as she discreetly trailed behind them.

After a while of passing through several halls and doors, they finally arrived before a large black door. Eight burly guards, each standing at an imposing 10 feet tall, pushed open the door as they noticed King Girsal approaching, only to seal them shut behind him with an ominous thud.

Eva's steely gaze swept across the chamber, revealing a ghastly sight within the cages that lined its walls. Here, imprisoned were souls from diverse races and backgrounds, but these were no ordinary prisoners. Their eyes glimmered with an unsettling mix of icy coldness and frenzied madness, an unsettling reflection of their corrupted spirits. Some diligently honed their bodies within the confines of their cages, performing ceaseless repetitions of push-ups and sit-ups, while others erupted into hysterical fits of laughter that echoed through the air, reminiscent of the deranged and unhinged.

"I guess this is the prison where the most heinous of criminals of Sandeph are kept. I saw a lot of these faces in some of the info the Pidis got. Guess the other prison was just normal," Eva muttered as she continued to trail behind King Girsal and the blue masked man.

Undeterred by the grim spectacle, Eva trailed behind King Girsal and the mysteries man with the blue mask. She then observed the dimly lit cells, as they went deeper, taking note of the other prisoners confined within, each a specter of danger and malice. They were a motley assortment of malefic beings—vicious sorcerers with eyes alight with sinister magic, hulking brutes whose muscles bulged with raw power, and cunning assassins whose every movement dripped with deadly precision. Their gaunt faces, etched with the scars of past conflicts, bore testament to lives steeped in treachery and transgression.

The cells themselves were cold, damp, and foreboding, their iron bars a stark reminder of the prisoners' inescapable fate. Each cell contained only a meager straw mattress, a testament to the prison's uncompromising stance on comfort.

To subdue these vile individuals, the prison employs a range of extraordinary measures. Mystical restraints, enchanted with powerful spells, bind the most volatile prisoners, rendering their supernatural abilities useless. The air resonates with the constant sound of clanging chains, a haunting reminder of the captives' eternal torment.