Stray

Oliver sat on the cold slate. Impossible, he thought. He absolutely shot down every piece of metal without omission.

However, the scorched trees disappeared from the field of vision, and the smell of vegetation on the edge of the forest became the stale taste unique to the confined space. His sword was still in the scabbard, but his helmet was taken off when he arrived at his destination. He should still be at the campsite. Oliver touched his face subconsciously. He was still breathing, and his heart was beating fiercely.

This was a small room, and the surroundings of the room were densely painted with magic arrays. Oliver didn’t hesitate, and directly raised his hand to pound on the door.

Then the overwhelming sharp pain flooded him.

Before his power was successfully activated, his sword instantly fell to the ground. Oliver half knelt on the slate, gasping for air. If a person felt pain when he dies, then this pain was roughly the same. It was like his flesh was being stuffed into a meat grinder and crushed or thrown into a hot lead water. His brain boiled almost instantly and if he did it again, he wasn’t sure if he could successfully stay awake.

His line of sight became blurred, and cold sweat dripped to the ground. He didn’t know how long it took before the pain slowly dissipated. Oliver swallowed laboriously and carefully leaned his hand towards his neck.

A narrow and thin metal clung to the skin around his neck, as light as nothing, and the surface was uneven, like a weird decoration…

Or a collar.

Calm down. Oliver clenched the Rest in Peace and leaned his back into the corner. Calm down, Oliver Ramon. Previously an unknown demon worshipper before also experienced this. Except for Alban, the treatment of demon worshipper had always been more lenient. In other words, this wasn’t close to death row, but a place closer to a “detention place for suspicious people”.