Chapter 911
Underground Station
Chapter 911 Underground Station
Stern was silent for a moment, then suddenly understood something.
He reached out and pressed his left shoulder; through the stiff coat, he could vaguely see unnatural, tiny bumps on the skin underneath.
Stern closed his eyes, and the image of Principal Fontana patting him on the shoulder with concern in his eyes flashed through his mind.
No wonder... the organization's stronghold was so well hidden, yet it was still broken into by a wizard without any warning.
Just seconds before, a dark suspicion had crossed his mind, wondering if Brolin or Abigail had betrayed the organization.
At this moment, he finally understood the traitor who had brought disaster into the nest—
It was myself who had been implanted with the tracking magic!
He's not usually this careless.
Each time he returned to the stronghold, Stern would check it repeatedly like a vigilant cheetah, changing all his clothes and shoes to ensure that he did not leave any trace that could endanger the nest.
If he had done the same yesterday, even if he couldn't prevent the stronghold from being exposed, he could at least have bought precious time—enough time for him to notify all his companions to evacuate, leaving the wizards with nothing!
But last night...
He was consumed by grief all night, Brolin’s cold questions echoing in his ears.
The organization's beliefs, the safety of his comrades, the hatred that runs through his life, and basic morality were tearing him apart violently, almost driving him to the brink of collapse.
He sank into a state of chaotic thoughts, not even knowing when he fell asleep.
It was just a slip of the tongue! He only made this one mistake!
But the result was so devastating that Stern could not bear it.
His mind seemed to flash before his eyes to the sight of his comrades lying dead everywhere, and he was overwhelmed with grief! Even when he was captured by the Aurors, Stern did not have the strength to resist.
As he was being carried by two Aurors and staggering past Fontana, Stern stopped, his eyes red and brooding as he looked at the old man.
"Why you?" he asked in a low voice. "Why are you lying to me too?"
Fontana looked down at him, her eyes filled with complex emotions.
After a moment of silence, he slowly said, "I gave you a choice, Rolando... I waited until noon... That was the last window I left open for you."
Stern recalled the words he had said to the principal when he was just giving him the runaround, and his expression shifted slightly.
He opened his mouth, but didn't know what else to say.
Fontana took a half step forward and reached out to pat Stern on the shoulder.
The young man seemed to have some kind of emotional response to this action; he subconsciously flinched, but did not dodge.
Fontana released his tracking spell and then said, "In my thirty-seven years of teaching, I've seen too many geniuses go astray. But you are the one who pains me the most—"
His voice suddenly became hoarse and low, as if it too was tinged with deep pain:
“Rolando, you should have been Iphamoni’s pride.”
Stern lowered his head, his disheveled hair obscuring his pained and contorted expression.
He was like a soulless puppet, being pushed and shoved by the Aurors toward the exit.
The once dark and deep passage was now as bright as day. Leila Picqueli raised an eyebrow slightly:
"Rolando Stern, I never expected to see you here."
Seeing that he didn't react, she took half a step forward and lowered her voice:
“Tell us Brolin’s whereabouts, Stern, and you might get a reduced sentence!” Stern suddenly let out a sneer, raising his cloudy eyes to look at Lyra:
"Brorlin? I'd love to know too...where is he..."
……
On the deep underground tracks, a dark green train with an old appearance and peeling paint is clattering along.
The underground tunnels dug for mining in the early years were narrow and cramped. As the mineral resources were depleted, these old railway tracks were abandoned for many years, but they have been secretly well maintained and even widened.
Through the narrow train windows, the faces of the passengers are sometimes illuminated by a fleeting light from the passageway.
An ugly giant hugged its knees, reluctantly squeezing itself into the carriage, its head swaying from side to side with the train.
After traveling for an unknown amount of time, the train burst out of the tunnel, and suddenly everything became bright!
A strong, pure white light instantly filled the entire field of vision, a stark contrast to the previous darkness.
The train slowly pulled into an extremely clean and tidy station. The walls and floors were made of white stone slabs, and light sources were installed on the ceiling and the surrounding walls, illuminating the underground station in every detail.
On the platform, a man in a sharp suit stood beside the train. He wore sunglasses, stood tall, and had his hands naturally folded in front of him, as if he had been waiting for a long time.
The carriage doors slid open silently, and through the open doors, one could see that the interior of the train was not as old as its exterior; its facilities were even more advanced than those of several subway trains currently in operation in New York.
Yodl Brolin stepped out first, his gaze calmly sweeping over the man who was waiting to pick him up, and he nodded slightly.
Next was Illari, who was clutching a briefcase tightly in his arms, looking around nervously and appearing very uneasy.
Then came an endless stream of puppets.
The vampires were handsome and elegant, and one of them, a girl with waist-length silver hair, was so exquisite that she looked like a doll. She attracted the attention of the man in the suit as soon as she appeared.
The werewolves were muscular and had coarse hair. The leader made a low, gurgling sound from his throat, while the other werewolf puppets exuded a wild, impatient restlessness.
Bringing up the rear were a group of giant golems, which also made strange hissing noises. With their appearance, a strong smell, like a mixture of swamp and rotting flesh, filled the air.
The giant swung its enormous wooden club, looking at the man in the suit with ill intent, as if it were eager to smash his head.
The werewolf and vampire beside him almost simultaneously focused their gazes on his neck and heart.
The man in the suit, his face pale, hissed in a low voice, "Blorlin, keep your things in check!"
"Don't worry, they won't act without orders."
Brolin waved his hand casually, and the puppets instantly fell silent.
The man in the suit's eyes flickered slightly.
He stepped forward, a forced, formulaic smile appearing on his pale face:
“Mr. Brolin, you must be tired from your journey. I am Mark Paul, Sir Sir's special assistant, here to receive you and your… ‘cargo’.”
As he spoke, his gaze turned to the puppet legion, his eyes filled with scrutiny, and a hint of fear and greed.
"Excuse me for asking, these are indeed all golems... and not real dark creatures, right?"
"I can't help but ask," Paul asked, struggling to suppress the urge to cover his nose.
“Of course, real trolls don’t listen to anyone’s orders,” Ilari said, sounding slightly nervous.
Brolin said, “Mr. Paul, I would like to meet with Sir Stonefield immediately. There are some details of the cooperation that I think we need to finalize in person.”
(End of this chapter)