Theresis stared wide-eyed at the syringe sticking out of his skin, utterly incredulous that he had been played like this. He hadn't even had a split second to react.
Several more quick injections followed. As wave after wave of potent sedative flooded his bloodstream, Theresis finally lost all control over his physical form. His heavy eyelids fluttered shut, and he collapsed backward into deep, drug-induced unconsciousness.
Kal'tsit wiped a bead of sweat from her brow as she looked down at the fallen Sarkaz. She hadn't expected his physiological resistance to be so unnaturally high; it had taken multiple times the standard dose to finally bring down such a monstrously resilient opponent.
This concoction, after all, was something Warfarin had specially developed to handle Skadi, the Seaborn Hunter. Warfarin had gone completely out of her mind trying to knock Skadi out for her secret medical research!
The resulting sedative... was frankly bordering on lethal. The volume injected into Theresis just now would have been more than enough to end an ordinary patient's life on the spot.
"Is it over just like that? I thought he'd put up a fight for a while longer," Ascalon remarked, walking over with a few other operators and nudging the fallen Regent with the toe of her boot.
Even now, none of them could truly relax around the Sarkaz warrior. Though he was thoroughly sedated and out cold, the terror his name alone commanded was far too deeply ingrained.
Even in such a broken, weakened state, the operators refused to lower their guard, quietly awaiting Kal'tsit's confirmation.
"There is no need for such excessive paranoia. In his current state, he is nothing more than a helpless captive," Kal'tsit explained, carefully verifying that Theresis was genuinely unconscious before administering two final booster shots just to be safe. "You must not allow fear of a subdued enemy to dictate your actions. Otherwise, you will never break free from his shadow."
Rising to her feet, she handed her remaining syringes to Ascalon and added, "Inject him every hour on the hour. Do not worry about permanent neurological damage. First, his constitution is far sturdier than you imagine. Second, I modified this formula myself—the side effects are minimal."
Kal'tsit then leaned down, searching through the folds of his charred coat until her fingers brushed against what she sought: an oddly shaped red key.
"Let us move," Kal'tsit turned toward the massive inner vault doors. "Bring our Regent and the Confessarius along. Only their presence will convince the troops inside to choose surrender."
With that, she strode directly toward the heavy metal gates, preparing to face the leaderless flock of Sarkaz soldiers trapped within the mausoleum.
"If they knew it would come to this, why go through all the trouble?" Ascalon shook her head in quiet pity, thinking of the soldiers waiting on the other side.
"If they already knew how this was going to end, why be so stubborn?" Jeanne muttered with exasperation, standing beside Talulah as she looked down at a pile of groaned, bruised Sarkaz warriors.
Just moments ago, a few hardline diehards among the captives had refused to surrender. Thinking Jeanne and Talulah were off-guard, they had decided to try a dirty trick—choosing to target the smallest person in the room.
To their eyes, Fafnir—looking like a defenseless child—was clearly the easiest prey.
The result had been nothing short of tragic. When Fafnir started punching them in the chest with her tiny fists, Jeanne hadn't even bothered to step in and stop her.
She had zero interest in saving fools who actively sought out their own deaths.
"You're really letting the child keep all these artifacts? My initial thought was just letting her take a few bars of gold," Jeanne asked, turning to look at the golden lion crouching nearby.
Although her hopes of seeing Gawain whip up a batch of mashed potatoes had fallen through, their actual haul from this underground journey was anything but small.
The relics Fafnir had scavenged were confirmed by Talulah to be incredibly valuable historical items—pieces that collectors would pay astronomical fortunes to acquire.
Besides, Jeanne knew better than to think Fafnir had only taken what was visible. If that dragon didn't pried every last gemstone off the royal coffins, her name wasn't Fafnir.
"Leaving these items down here serves no real purpose anymore. If trading them ensures the Sigh of Kings remains undisturbed, I consider it a fair trade," Gawain explained, lying flat on the stone floor.
The treasures and gold buried here were originally set aside by ancient Victorian monarchs for their descendants in times of crisis. As for traditional burial goods, Victoria had abandoned that practice centuries ago; the ancient kings themselves would have preferred these riches to serve a purpose above ground rather than rot in the dark.
"Well, we aren't bandits. We wouldn't just steal a sword," Jeanne said, stepping up to the stone altar and driving the sword back into its ancient pedestal.
The mausoleum around them was now a scorched ruin, looking less like a grand royal tomb and more like a site struck by an apocalyptic Catastrophe.
"For that, I must express my gratitude," the honest lion bowed his head slightly. "Please forgive my earlier suspicion regarding your motives. That was indeed my error..."
Seeing the majestic guardian offer a sincere apology was almost surreal—though it likely had a lot to do with the fact that he couldn't beat either of the two powerhouse women standing in front of him.
"Is this sword truly that special? Enough for you to guard it so humbly?" Talulah asked, genuinely puzzled. Why would a creature as formidable as this lion go to such lengths merely to protect a piece of cold steel?
"It is a pledge between us and the Aslans—a solemn contract," Gawain answered honestly after a moment's reflection, recognizing that despite Talulah being a Draco and an old rival to the Aslan bloodline, she bore no immediate malice. "You may view it as our shared hope entrusted to their line. It matters deeply to us, and to them."
"I see," Talulah nodded, asking no further questions. Ancient Aslan legends held little practical meaning for her.
"Are you still waiting for an Aslan who can draw the Sigh of Kings? Do you truly believe that absurd myth about an Aslan pulling a sword from stone to save Victoria?"
To Talulah, such a notion was utterly preposterous. She could not believe that a simple blade could alter the fate of an empire like Victoria.
"That is not your concern."
"Does that mean an Aslan heir actually survived the coup back then?" Talulah asked casually, picking up on the lion's subtle shift in tone.
Gawain immediately clapped his jaws shut, going dead silent and pretending to be nothing more than a stone statue.
"Hey! Don't run, you dragon! I'm not taking your gold, I just want to see how much you stuffed in there!"
In stark contrast to the heavy conversation on one side, Jeanne was currently chasing Fafnir across the cavern floor. Fafnir was refusing to recognize her own guardian for the sake of her treasure trove—a complete little ingrate!
Fearing that Jeanne would tax her hard-earned stash, Fafnir was desperately squirming to avoid being caught.
She looked exactly like a stubborn child trying to hide her New Year's pocket money from her parents. Unfortunately for her, a child's small arms could never pin down Jeanne's grip.
"I said I'm not taking your gold! Why don't you trust me?" Jeanne scooped the girl up into her arms and began inspecting her, though the process looked wildly bizarre.
In a scene straight out of an anime, Jeanne reached into the girl's chest pocket and began pulling out solid gold bars one after another. As the stack grew, Fafnir visibly withered like a frost-bitten eggplant.
Talulah stared in absolute shock at the sheer volume of wealth emerging from the child's pockets. A fortune like this could easily fund and equip an entire army!
"By the way," Jeanne remarked without running it through her brain first, turning to Talulah with a grin, "does this count as us helping you get revenge? Plenty of the kings buried here were Aslans—we basically dug up your mortal enemies' ancestral graves, right?"
Talulah simply rolled her eyes so hard they nearly rolled into the back of her head.