Chapter 65: Trial
Morning light streamed through the high window’s iron bars into the dungeon. Cynthia slowly opened her eyes, the black death ore shackles on her wrists gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
She tried to move her fingers, and the magic-restraining ore immediately sent a sharp pain, making her slightly furrow her brow.
The cell door creaked open as Ardur walked in with elegant steps.
His black high-collared formal wear made his figure appear tall and slender, the ouroboros tattoo under his left eye flickering in the morning light. One hand was in his pocket while the other played with a silver coin, his mouth wearing a confident smile.
“Good morning, Lady Saint.”
He bowed slightly, his tone frivolous.
“After thinking all night, are you willing to change your mind?”
“What? Is the mighty Ouroboros Cult executor worried his plan might have flaws?”
Cynthia raised her eyes, her ruby-like gaze coldly watching him, her lips curving into a mocking arc.
“I just think it’s a pity—you could live more dignifiedly.”
Ardur’s smile deepened, the silver coin spinning between his fingers.
“Ha, get lost.”
Cynthia snorted lightly and turned her face away.
“Since this is the Lady Saint’s choice, then what happens next… is beyond your control.”
Ardur shrugged, the coin making a “ding” as he flicked it up and caught it. He turned toward the cell door, then as if remembering something, looked back to add:
“Oh right, don’t be too surprised during the trial later. The good show is about to begin.”
The cell door slammed shut heavily. Cynthia’s shoulders relaxed slightly, her fingertips unconsciously rubbing the shackles.
She had figured out Sean’s hint last night—this trial wasn’t just targeting her from the beginning.
“That idiot… I hope you know what you’re doing…”
She murmured quietly, her voice carrying a tremor she didn’t even notice.
“Knowing it’s a trap and still jumping in…”

In an unremarkable inn somewhere in Celeste City, Sean slowly opened his eyes as morning light filtered through the curtain gaps onto the bed.
He sat up, rubbed his temples, and his gaze fell on the breakfast on the table—a cup of warm milk, several slices of bread with honey, eggs, meat strips, and a fresh apple.
“Awake?”
Skadi’s voice came from the shadows. She was almost completely merged with the darkness in the corner, only her purple eyes faintly glowing.
“You bought this?”
Sean was somewhat surprised.
“It’s already under martial law outside. There are many people at the trial square.”
Skadi nodded.
Sean picked up the bread and took a bite, the honey’s sweetness spreading on his tongue.
“The trial is about to begin. Should we proceed according to plan?”
Skadi quietly watched Sean.
“That’s right, strictly follow the plan we made last night. You’ll handle the backup later. Remember—”
Sean answered while chewing.
“Wait for the signal before acting, even if you’re in danger, you must endure.”
Skadi repeated expressionlessly.
“Mm, exactly.”
Sean drained the milk in one gulp.
“Sean, don’t take too many risks. If you’re really about to die, I’ll act. I don’t care about Cynthia—I only want you safe and sound.”
Skadi tugged at Sean’s sleeve.
“Thanks, but it shouldn’t come to that.”
Sean smiled wryly. He stood up, took out a dark gray cloak from his pack and put it on, pulling the hood low to cover half his face.
“There’s an old saying from my homeland: ‘Do your best and leave the rest to fate.’ Whether we can succeed this time depends entirely on the goddess’s will.”
If the goddess truly exists.
“Sean, do you really think… we can win?”
Skadi was silent for a while, then suddenly spoke.
Sean fastened the cloak’s ties and looked up to smile at her.
“How will we know without trying?”
The square in front of the trial court was already packed with people, magical projections unfolding in mid-air to ensure even those on the periphery could see the trial proceedings clearly.
Sean pulled his hood low and mixed into the crowd entering the trial court. Sure enough, as if it had been arranged, no one checked his identity—he entered quite easily.
He chose a seat and sat down, his ears filled with noisy discussions.
“How could Lady Cynthia possibly collude with evil cults?”
“Exactly! She was the one who led people to suppress the beast disaster last time!”
“But Ardur says there’s evidence…”
Sean closed his eyes to rest, the corners of his mouth slightly raised—indeed, Cynthia’s prestige among the people was much higher than the Celeste family had anticipated.
In the center of the trial court, acting family head Adeline Celeste sat in a high-backed chair, her gray hair impeccably arranged, her expression cold and stern.
The seat beside her was empty—originally belonging to family head Agatha, now left only with cold silence.
“Everyone!”
Ardur’s voice spread throughout the venue through amplification magic. He stood in the center of the trial platform, wearing a black formal suit under a silver-edged cloak symbolizing his steward status, his smile elegant yet dangerous.
“Thank you all for attending today’s trial.”
He raised his hand, and two guards escorted Cynthia onto the trial platform.
Her crimson saint’s uniform was already damaged, sleeves and hem stained with dirt, but her spine remained straight. The shackles’ chains made crisp sounds with her steps, particularly jarring in the silent trial court.
Cynthia’s gaze swept over the crowd and suddenly stopped at one spot—in the corner, a hooded figure sat quietly.
“Leave quickly.”
Her pupils contracted slightly, instinctively shaking her head, her lips silently forming two words.
Though Cynthia didn’t know what Sean was planning, he was about to single-handedly confront the entire Celeste family and the Ouroboros executor Ardur—the odds of success were nearly zero. She didn’t want Sean to risk himself for her.
Sean just smiled, raised his index finger, lightly pressed it to his lips in a “shh” gesture, then tapped his temple, his eyes confident.
When Cynthia appeared, the entire trial court became noisy.
The trial court’s lights suddenly dimmed, leaving only a cold beam focused on Cynthia.
“Silence, silence.”
Ardur’s voice echoed through the trial court like a chant, his white-gloved right hand drawing elegant arcs in the air. His slender fingers lightly smoothed non-existent wrinkles on his formal wear. When all eyes focused on him, he suddenly knelt on one knee, his left hand on his chest in an exaggerated knight’s salute.
“Distinguished witnesses, allow me—Ardur Crest—to open this sacred trial.”
As he rose, he deliberately made his cloak billow in gorgeous waves, his silver-lined boot heels clicking crisply against the marble floor. When he reached Cynthia, he suddenly leaned down, close enough to smell his overpowering cologne.
“Cynthia Celeste…”
Ardur spoke the name in a breathy voice, the ending carrying malicious tremor, then suddenly straightened, his voice rising sharply.
“You are accused of colluding with the Ouroboros Cult, manipulating beast disasters, and defiling your saint duties—do you confess?”
“Where’s the evidence?”
Cynthia sneered, looking at him like a clown.
“Right! Where’s the evidence?”
The crowd below immediately stirred.
“Of course there’s evidence.”
Ardur calmly raised his hand, signaling for quiet. He suddenly turned, his finger pointing directly at the crowd.
“And that cultist is among you!”
The lights suddenly blazed, precisely enveloping Sean in their glow. The people around him cried out and retreated, instantly isolating him in the center of the light circle.
Cynthia’s face instantly turned pale.