Chapter 178 : Chapter 178

One by one, they walked toward Parker.

Very slowly, as if their feet were weighted with lead.

Unwilling, but with no choice.

Allen tugged at Ryan’s sleeve and pulled him along.

Lillian and Rex followed too. The four of them squeezed together as they stepped into the slowly forming circle. Ryan could feel Lillian’s hand pressed against her sword hilt, her knuckles pale. Rex stood in front of her, his shoulders drawn tight.

Ryan’s gaze swept over the people around them.

Parker stood in the center of the circle. Hayden stood half a step behind him, his swollen hand hanging at his side, but his eyes remained fixed on the crowd, as if he were counting. Vincent and Gray were in the circle as well. Vincent still wore that mild smile of his, but his pale blue eyes kept sweeping through the crowd, searching for something. Gray was as silent as ever, leaning against a stone pillar, his injured leg stretched out, but his right hand never left the hilt of his short sword.

Vera stood off to the side, leaning against a stone pillar without stepping into the circle. Her legs were crossed, her posture still as elegant as ever, but her eyes were fixed on the dial, on Parker’s hand, utterly motionless.

Eleanor stood outside the circle, holding her sword, staring at the great door.

The ordinary explorers huddled together with their heads lowered, not daring to look at anyone.

Parker began pouring magic into the dial.

The runes lit up, glowing with a pale blue light. That glow flowed along the engraved patterns as if it had come alive, spreading layer by layer before finally gathering at the needle in the center.

The needle moved.

At first, it swayed slowly, like someone just waking and stretching. Then it spun faster and faster until it was whirling so quickly that it left afterimages in the dim light. Those afterimages turned into streaks of pale blue light, circling before everyone’s eyes and making them dizzy.

Everyone was staring at the needle.

Ryan was staring too, but he was watching something else.

Parker’s fingers.

The thumb of the hand holding the dial was pressing lightly against a certain point on its edge. There was a tiny protrusion there, so small it would be impossible to notice unless one was looking for it. The protrusion was exactly the same color as the dial, as if it had grown out of it.

Magic continued to flow into the device. The runes flickered in changing patterns, some brighter, some dimmer, like a signal, like some kind of code.

Ryan’s eyes shifted to the needle spinning furiously.

Then back to that tiny protrusion.

Parker’s thumb had remained pressed there the whole time.

The needle slowed.

Slower and slower.

Until, under everyone’s gaze, it came to a stop.

It pointed at someone.

That man stood on the far side of the circle, dressed in dark combat clothes. His features were ordinary. When the pointer landed on him, he froze for a moment, a very brief moment, then nodded lightly.

Ryan recognized that face.

The intelligence dossier had mentioned him. One of a southern marquis’s people, someone who had entered using that marquis’s quota. There was no need to guess who that marquis supported. It was the Second Prince. In the stack of pages Ilis had sent over, there had been his name, his portrait, and the full record of the faction behind him.

Parker looked at the man.

The man nodded.

Parker nodded in return.

“Good,” he said flatly. “One.”

He spun the dial again and poured more magic into it. The runes lit up once more, and the needle began to spin again.

This time, everyone’s eyes locked onto it even more tightly. The needle carved pale blue streaks across the dial, spinning faster and faster until it became a blurred ring of light.

Ryan watched the needle.

This time, Parker’s thumb was no longer pressing on that protrusion. He had shifted his grip, cradling the dial in his hand in a way that looked perfectly natural.

But Ryan noticed that Parker’s other hand, the one hidden behind his back, twitched once.

Very lightly. Very quickly.

Like a signal.

The needle spun faster and faster, then began to slow.

It pointed toward Ryan’s group.

Every gaze in the hall swung over.

Those looks landed on them like needles. Ryan could feel people studying his face, studying Lillian behind him, studying Rex beside him. Some of those looks held curiosity. Some held sympathy. Some held schadenfreude. Some held sheer relief.

Thank God it isn’t me.

Allen’s face went white.

The needle swayed between Ryan and Allen.

It moved slowly, as if hesitating.

Then it settled on—

Allen.

Allen froze.

He pointed at himself, and even that finger was trembling. His voice shook too. “M-me?”

Parker looked at him without speaking. His eyes were as cold as a frozen northern lake, utterly expressionless.

A whole storm of emotions flashed across Allen’s face—fear, hesitation, the urge to run and the knowledge that he could not. His lips trembled. His legs trembled. He looked as pathetic as a man could possibly look, like he might collapse to the floor at any second.

But his right hand was behind his back.

That hand had slipped the black rod out of Ryan’s palm.

The motion had been light and quick. Parker had not seen it. The others staring at him had not seen it. None of those eyes fixed on him had seen it. Only Ryan had felt it—that cold hand brushing his palm, taking the rod, and tucking it into the deepest layer of the hidden pocket at his waist.

“Do you have any objections?” Parker’s voice turned cold, each word landing like shards of ice on stone. “When the others were chosen, none of them objected.”

Allen shook his head frantically.

“No, no, no!” His head wagged so hard it looked as though his neck might snap. “No objections at all! I’m just... just a little nervous...”

“That’s for the best,” Parker said with a cold snort.

He put the dial away and swept his gaze over the two chosen men—the southern nobleman’s retainer and Allen.

“I’m giving you ten minutes,” he said. “Get your things together and make your preparations. In ten minutes, you go in.”

Allen stood there, still wearing that same frightened expression, as though he were about to burst into tears at any moment. But the hand behind his back had already tucked the black rod into the deepest part of his hidden pocket.

Ryan watched his profile.

That face was streaked with dust and sweat and drained pale by fear. But when no one was looking, those eyes flicked toward him and blinked once.

Very lightly. Very quickly.

Then Allen turned away and headed toward the southern nobleman’s retainer, muttering under his breath about things like what am I supposed to do and am I going to die in there?

Ryan remained where he was and said nothing.

He adjusted the pack on his back, then reached inside and felt around once more.

There were still two left.