"Dinner's ready." The portly Ahey set a plate of boiled beans on the ground.

Though his stomach growled with hunger, Feto still tried to keep his dignity. Leaning against a pile of grimy straw in the cell corner, he said casually: "I've been starving all day. This isn't enough. I need a roasted lamb leg and a jug of warm wine—otherwise, I won't be full."

"Hey hey, folks in the black dungeon don't get roasted lamb legs or warm wine. Only beans, hey hey, only beans…" Ahey giggled stupidly.

"But I won't be locked up forever. I'll get out eventually. Then you'll have to give me lamb legs and wine anyway. Give me one now, skip one later—what's the difference?"

"Different, hey hey, different." Ahey shook his head repeatedly.

Fat idiot. He's usually so dumb, but he's sharp when it counts. Unbelievable.

Feto sighed, fell silent, and reluctantly reached for the plate. Ahey turned and walked out, slamming the cell door shut with a click.

"Idiot!" Feto muttered under his breath.

After a day and night in the pitch-black dungeon of the bunker, Feto was indeed hungry. He picked up the beans, popping them into his mouth one by one.

Why am I here? How did he become like this?

Staring into the darkness ahead, Feto felt a twinge of dejection. He wasn't afraid of the dungeon—he'd faced far worse hardships before. What truly hurt was Orekl's betrayal, which cut deeper than any physical discomfort.

Orekl wasn't just his superior—he was his friend. They'd once talked about everything, stayed up drinking all night, fought side by side countless times. But Feto never thought the Prophet would throw him into the dungeon over a single question.

Sigh.

Feto hung his head, mechanically chewing the beans. What should have been savory now tasted like sawdust. I just don't get it.

"Clomp, clomp, clomp—"

Heavy footsteps echoed outside. Is Ahey coming to collect the plate already? Idiot, no one eats that fast.

The lock clanked, and the door creaked open. A gaunt figure stepped into the cell, lighting a dim candle. Their features gradually came into focus.

"Boss!" Feto never expected it to be Orekl.

The Prophet looked haggard, his eyelids drooping, as if weighed down by exhaustion.

"Seems you have a good appetite." Orekl said flatly.

Feto set down the plate, resuming his lazy lean against the straw: "What choice do I have? I'm a warrior. To keep my strength up, I have to force down this tasteless slop."

Orekl snorted: "You still haven't realized your mistake. You're a prisoner now, not a warrior."

"I only asked a reasonable question. I don't see what I did wrong." Feto crossed his arms, his face full of defiance. If you came here to make me submit, you wasted your time! I'll never admit fault! I'll never apologize!

"Childish!" Orekl snapped softly. "You've been on the wall for two years, and you've learned nothing! You're still the same guard I met in Holy Light Village—all brawn, no brain!"

"Bullshit!" Feto seethed inwardly. "Have you stayed the same since we first met? No! You've changed so much, I barely recognize you!"

"You mean Silver Hour Village?"

"What Silver Hour Village?" Feto blinked in confusion. "We first met in Holy Light Village two years ago, right? What are you talking about?"

Orekl shook his head: "Holy Light Village wasn't our first meeting. I invited you to the Great Wall because I was impressed by what you did in Silver Hour Village."

What!

Feto's eyes widened: "We met in Silver Hour Village?"

Orekl said: "The battle to hunt four werewolves in Silver Hour Village ten years ago—I still remember it clearly."

How is that possible? I have no memory of that! Feto looked up at the dark ceiling, searching his memory: "Ten years ago, I was training in Silver Hour Village, but I was only sixteen… did we meet then?"

"Back then, I was just an apprentice Prophet, traveling with my senior brother to villages and towns in the Western Realm to gain experience. In Silver Hour Village, we encountered werewolves, and one of them pretended to be the Prophet, accusing the real one of being a wolf. We were in a terrible spot."

Orekl's words jogged Feto's memory: "Oh right! That happened! I remember the real Prophet stuttered when he spoke, while the fake one was smooth and convincing. A lot of villagers sided with the wrong person."

"My senior brother got nervous during public speeches—he lost a lot because of that. I tried to defend him, but the villagers immediately labeled me a wolf too. We were really stuck." Orekl smiled faintly. "But when most villagers had chosen the wrong side, a scrawny little kid stood up, firmly backed my senior brother and me, and did everything he could to persuade the others to change their minds."

Feto scratched his head, embarrassed: "Back then, I was really thin and short—nothing like I am now, heh… I can't believe you recognized me."

Orekl nodded: "You didn't just pick the right side. You also warned everyone that the person the fake Prophet accused wasn't necessarily innocent—wolves often use the trick of wolf-on-wolf accusations. Later, you were proven right again. You were the real hero of Silver Hour Village, even more so than my senior brother and I."

Feto blushed at the praise: "Heh… that was so long ago. I never thought you'd remember. I always thought Holy Light Village was our first mission together. I had no idea we teamed up ten years ago."

"In Holy Light Village, we swapped identities to trick the werewolves—that was a great battle too. But in my heart, it still doesn't compare to Silver Hour Village." Orekl stared at Feto, then softened his voice after a pause: "Actually, as long as a Prophet and a Guard have trust, we'll always win."

Feto met his gaze. A silent understanding passed between them, and both smiled in relief. In that moment, the rift between them vanished completely.

"Boss, did you really lose your Holy Light Power?" Feto asked.

"Yes." Orekl admitted bluntly.

It's true… Even though his suspicion was confirmed, Feto felt a pang of loss.

"What did the Archbishop say?"

"He didn't punish me. He just told me to return to the Great Wall to face the final test."

Final test? Feto frowned: "What does that mean?"

"The Archbishop always speaks in riddles. I didn't dare ask more, so I had to guess his meaning. I remember he said Kamon's death would make the wall's situation unpredictable, and the millennium catastrophe might be coming."

Kamon? Millennium catastrophe? Feto grew more confused: Old Kamon was a respected officer, but he was just a wall administrator. Why would his death cause a catastrophe? That's way too dramatic.

"I don't understand."

"Don't feel bad—neither do I. The Archbishop stayed silent about Peter and Shu's deaths, but he focused on Kamon's. Why is that?" Orekl looked thoughtful.

"Alright. Did the Archbishop give any other orders?" Feto never dwelled on things he couldn't figure out. If he couldn't understand now, he'd put it aside.

"Yes. His order was to lock you up."

What the hell? Feto jolted in shock. Then he saw Orekl's half-smiling face and realized: The Archbishop would never give such an order.

He chuckled bitterly: "Boss, you've really changed. You never used to joke like this."

Orekl said: "I'm not joking. The Archbishop didn't give a clear order, but I think his reason for letting a flawed Prophet stay as Commander isn't because I'm fit for the job—it's to prepare for the coming crisis."

Feto said: "So the wall is in immediate danger, and the Archbishop needs you to hold the fort for now?"

"Possibly." Orekl nodded: "Whether the Red Moon legend is true or not, the werewolves are definitely on the move. And considering the murders over the past half year, it's clear they're plotting against the wall."

"It's such a shame we didn't finish off the Wolf King at Wolf Fort!" Feto growled. "I never thought Will would bounce back this fast!"

Orekl sighed: "During the Wolf Fort battle, I gave a direct order to kill Wolf King Will. But something went wrong, and he escaped. I still don't understand how that happened."

"Boss, it's in the past—don't dwell on it." Feto comforted him. "So what if the werewolves come back? So what if the Red Moon legend is true? The Frostwall is a god-built fortress that's stood for a thousand years. If we just hold our ground, the werewolves can only stare at the wall in despair. Nothing will happen."

"I think the same way. If we stay put, I can't see how the werewolves could break through. But since the Archbishop warned us, I have to prepare. That's why I locked you up."

"What!" Feto exclaimed. "Boss, your idea of preparation is locking me up?"

"Yes. I've thought about it—the Frostwall is impenetrable. If something goes wrong, it will come from inside."

That makes sense.

Orekl continued: "The legion has over three hundred people, but I can trust very few. Besides Magician Peter, only you. Feto, I need you to be my other pair of eyes—to see the things I can't."

Be my eyes, see through the fog… Feto began to understand.

"Everyone knows how close we are. To avoid overlapping perspectives, I had to lock you up and make it look like we had a falling-out. That way, our viewpoints are separated, and you'll see things you never could before."

It's a fake-out plan! Feto suddenly felt ashamed. He'd been with Orekl for two years, but he hadn't trusted him completely—he'd even misjudged him.

He said excitedly: "Boss, I get it now! Don't worry! I'll definitely finish the mission!"

Orekl's eyes lit up with relief: "Good. Then I can leave for the Academy with peace of mind."

"The Academy?" Feto blinked again.

"That's my other plan. I've heard the scholars at the Academy have unique ways to restore lost Holy Light Power. I'm going there as soon as possible to seek help. Now that many people know I've lost my power, the werewolves will try to take advantage of it. But if I can suddenly regain my ability, it'll catch them completely off guard."

This… Feto's heart tightened. A sudden, gnawing feeling came over him: Orekl's plan was sound, but it might already be too late.