"Kneel!" Fito burst through the white mist, his eyes widening at the sight before him. Wilder huddled on the ground, bound tight by glowing chains that left him completely immobile. Beside him, Witch Shana stood tall with her hands on her hips, looking triumphant.

"Thought you could run! Enjoy the feel of tough grass ropes soaked in scent-tracking dew!" Shana shrilled.

"Shana! Boss said this guy's a traitor!" Fito ran to the witch's side.

"I figured it out ages ago!" Shana boasted. "A few days back in the cave, he asked me for a Soul-Unbinding Curse. I thought that was weird right away. That curse only does one thing—breaks the Soul-Binding Curse a Dreamweaver casts. Hardly anyone's interested in it. The only reason he'd be desperate to buy it is if someone close to him was under a Soul-Binding Curse!"

Wilder, trapped like a cornered beast by the glowing grass ropes, panted heavily, his face twisted with rage and frustration.

"You're right." Orek emerged from the mist. "The Soul-Binding Curse is a Dreamweaver's signature spell. Those cursed suffer torment like an endless night—sudden, unprovoked sleep, consciousness drifting like a broken kite, and nightmares that gnaw at the heart. I suspect that when Shu was ambushed, he cast the curse on his killer in his final moments, making them endure his dream-torment."

"If I'd known that, I never would've made a deal with this scoundrel! I should've let him suffer longer! Ugh!" Shana huffed.

"I'm not Peter… you've got the wrong man…" Wilder gasped, his voice hoarse as he lay prone on the ground.

"Peter, we grew up together in the capital's slums. Do you think I can't recognize your voice? Even if you try to lower it, it won't help." Orek's voice was calm, matter-of-fact.

"No… you really have the wrong person…"

Orek sighed and nodded at Shana.

The witch pulled a small green vial from her pocket and shouted, "Still not admitting it? Fine! This is Face-Melting Elixir, brewed from mint and green mandrake for forty-nine days—no matter how clever or sturdy your mask is, a single drop will make it peel away like ice in boiling water! Confess now, and you'll save yourself some pain!"

Wilder's pupils shrank to pinpricks, his face twitching as cold sweat poured down his cheeks.

"Will you talk or not!" Shana stepped closer to Wilder, flicking the vial with her finger.

Wilder let out a long sigh and finally closed his eyes in defeat.

"Does that mean you admit it?"

Wilder's neck moved stiffly, and fine powder began to flake off his face like snow.

It can't be… Fito's eyes went wide. He really is Magician Peter! Fito remembered how heartbroken he'd been half a year ago when he heard Peter was dead. He'd served as Peter's guard and considered him a close friend. He'd even cried at Peter's "funeral." Never in his wildest dreams did he think the dead would rise again like this!

Fito glanced at the witch—she looked just as shocked as he did.

The Count of Awakening City revealed his true face—a man with porcelain-like skin and sharp, elegant features, nothing like his rough, brutish disguise.

"Old friend, we meet at last." The Seer sighed.

"I never really left." Peter's voice shifted from hoarse to rich and resonant. "Old friend, loosen the bindings a bit—they're cutting into me."

Orek nodded slightly. The witch waved her right hand, and one of the glowing grass ropes around Peter vanished. "Behave, or I'll tie you up again!"

Peter stood up slowly, a bitter smile on his face. "Old friend, when did you start suspecting me?"

"That day in the Snowwood Forest, I heard the gravedigger singing The Red Moon and the Werewolf. That's when I suddenly realized something was off about you." Orek spoke slowly. "Old Mu didn't know the song well—he messed up a lot of the lyrics."

"What does the gravedigger messing up lyrics have to do with me?" Peter asked.

"Gravediggers only recite funeral hymns from the deceased's hometown. If your body had been buried in the Snowwood's Divine Cemetery, he never would've messed up the lyrics. You were born in the capital, and The Red Moon and the Werewolf is a popular capital ballad. But Old Mu didn't know it. That could only mean one thing—your body wasn't buried there at all."

Fito suddenly remembered: That day in the Snowwood, Boss had stared at Peter's tombstone for a long time. So that's when he noticed something was wrong.

Peter stared in silence for a long moment, then sighed. "One tiny mistake. I planned everything so carefully, but I never thought the gravedigger would be the one to give me away…"

"Why did you do it?" Orek stared intently at Peter.

"Why?" Peter turned his head, a guttural, bitter laugh escaping his throat. "You dare ask me why?"

"We both grew up in the slums. I was just as smart and hardworking as you. Why did you get the Archbishop's favor, chosen to train at the Crystal Temple? While I was stuck in cold, flea-infested alleys, fighting stray dogs for food! When I was lying in a gutter with a fever, you were listening to holy hymns in the warm Crystal Temple! Can you even imagine how that felt?"

"Worse still, when you made a mistake, someone always forgave you, gave you a second chance. But I couldn't afford to take a single wrong step. One slip, and all I got was cold stares and beatings! Tell me why that was!"

"Yeah, I worked my way up to become a magician, finally able to stand at the same height as you. But do you know how much pain and humiliation I went through to get here? I have ten times as many scars as you! I worked a hundred times harder!"

"I've known since I was a kid how terrible it is to be poor! When I was starving, I'd pick leftover food from sewers! When the wind was freezing, I didn't even have a whole piece of cloth to cover myself! I finally realized—only a heavy purse can make me stand tall! Only money can make me feel safe!"

Peter's voice grew more impassioned, and he stepped closer to Orek. Fito immediately moved forward, ready to protect the Seer.

Peter glanced at Fito out of the corner of his eye, his gaze full of contempt.

"You've long forgotten the pain of poverty, the cries of the slums! Don't stand on your moral high horse, hiding your ignorance behind stale righteousness!"

Orek was silent for a long moment, then sighed. "I don't know much about what happened to you after we parted. It sounds like a terrible past. But no matter how hard your life was, you had no right to betray the kingdom for your own gain. Helping the wolves destroy the Frostwall is unforgivable, no matter what your reasons are!"

Peter snorted. "Winners write history, losers are just villains. If Wil hadn't been so useless, I'd be the one standing here laughing!" He shook his head in frustration. "You won't find a worse Wolf King in a thousand years of wolf clan history! I pulled him out of a trap, killed powerful champions for him, patched up the feud between the Black and White Wolves, bet everything on him… and just when victory was within reach, he collapsed! I can't believe it!"

He's crazy! He's really lost his mind! This man betrayed all of humanity, committed unforgivable crimes, and yet he's still bragging like this! Fito looked at the magician he'd once respected so deeply, and barely recognized him.

"If you wanted to help the Wolf King, why did you ambush the wolf army at Ghost Hill?" Fito had so many questions for Peter.

"Hmph, I wasn't helping the Wolf King—I was helping myself!" Peter sneered. "If either humans or wolves got too powerful, it would threaten my profits. Only when both sides are evenly matched can I take the most advantage! After the Blood Moon Battle, the wolves had the upper hand, so I had to help the humans weaken them."

"Bah! Do you think you're a god, controlling everything? Balancing both sides? Then why are you tied up by me now! Stop acting like some hero—kneel and surrender, and maybe I'll let you keep your miserable life!" Shana spat.

"Heh heh heh—" Peter laughed again, cold and bitter. "Surrender? Why would I do that?" He glanced at the Seer. "I didn't lose to you. I lost to the Archbishop. Why should I surrender to you?"

Orek's face was calm. "If you won't surrender to me, I have no choice but to turn you over to the Crystal Temple, let the Archbishop judge you."

At those words, Peter's arrogant mask shattered completely. "No! Don't turn me over to the Archbishop!" He stumbled back a step. "Orek, I beg you—for old times' sake, just kill me! I'd rather die by your sword than go to the Crystal Temple!"

Fito saw it clearly: Peter was terrified of the Archbishop.

The Seer shook his head gently. "Your crimes are beyond my authority to judge. I must send you to the capital."

"No——!!" Peter's pupils shook violently, and the terror in his eyes erupted. He lunged forward, aiming to smash his head against a nearby stone platform.

No! He's trying to kill himself! Fito reached out to stop him, but it was too late.

Just then, the witch flicked her finger through the air. A string of dark purple runes shot forward like a spiritual snake, wrapping around Peter's throat in an instant.

Peter's body froze. His knees crashed into the cobblestones, and the runes dissolved into mist that seeped into his seven orifices. He collapsed to the ground, motionless.

Soul-Binding Curse!

Shana laughed triumphantly. "Enjoy a peaceful dream."

Fito walked over and kicked Peter lightly. "He's asleep!"

"Tie him up and send him to the capital. Let the Archbishop judge him." Orek suddenly sat down on the ground, propping his head up with his elbow and rubbing his forehead with his knuckles. He looked utterly exhausted. "I don't want to deal with anything anymore."

Fito looked at his boss's haggard face, and his heart ached. The Frostwall had fallen, the Legion had been defeated, and even his best friend had betrayed him. The string of blows had been too much for Orek.

I need to comfort him. The guard walked over to the Seer and said softly, "Boss, the Wolf King is dead, the wolf army has surrendered, the Hidden Wolf is gone, and the traitor's been caught! You won in the end. It wasn't easy."

"Did I win?" The Seer looked up at the sky.

Just then, a light rain began to fall. Droplets trickled down Orek's gaunt cheeks, hitting the ground and shattering like tiny pieces of jade.

"I don't know if we really won. But I'm so tired. I just want to sleep." The Seer let out a long, heavy sigh.

Fito looked at Orek's rain-blurred silhouette, and thought to himself: Being a Seer comes with such a heavy burden.