Our Family Has Fallen

The smarter a person is, the more concerns they have and often end up trapping themselves.

The desire for battle mentioned earlier was quickly worn down by this kind of emotion, leaving only a sigh and a return to calmness, even a bit of a cold look.

"So what do you want? If you want to kill me, we’ll have to fight first to find out."

"Why would I kill you for no reason?"

Lance looked at him, his face full of bewilderment.

But these words left Alviss a bit puzzled, and his stern expression started to crumble. As soon as Lance finished talking, he couldn’t help but ask again.

"Weren’t you just saying you wanted to kill?"

"Who told you to scare my people? It’s only fair I scare you a bit~"

Lance said this calmly, as if adding a touch of color to the "fairness" he mentioned.

But some people couldn’t stay calm, and Alviss’ blood pressure, which had just decreased, skyrocketed. His hand gripping the magic wand clenched so tightly that veins bulged and even trembled.

This is simply irrational!

Alviss was speechless; does anyone play like this?

Can’t take it, speaking with him causes pressure to spike, drive someone with less resilience mad.

Lance didn’t care about his feelings. The recent pressure test showed that the old man was really getting less bold as he aged, not daring to confront him at all.

"Hamlet doesn’t care whether it’s a transcendent or a regular person; he won’t deliberately suppress you, but you can’t cross the line; rules are rules.

In this case, because you interfered with our operation, if the criminal escapes due to your actions, you’re considered an accomplice. I won’t be as polite today."

Alviss really wanted to argue—how is this polite?

It was clearly just direct ridicule, right?

But he definitely couldn’t say it—he really couldn’t win in a fight.

"Also, Hamlet doesn’t allow unauthorized organizations to operate or build unauthorized structures here."

Lance continued speaking at length on his own, while Alviss seemed like he was too infuriated to speak.

"You must be clearer on Hamlet’s rules than I am, so I’ll stop here. Go to sleep early if there’s nothing else."

Without waiting for an answer, Lance got up and walked straight towards the door, leaving Alviss a bit confused, finally unable to resist asking.

"Hamlet really doesn’t limit transcendents?"

"Your question is too frivolous. I never said such things. As a legendary caster, you should know how terrifying supernatural power can be.

Becoming a true caster, the first step is learning to control that power, which itself is a restriction, because without restriction, you’ll truly die.

We both know unrestricted power is a total disaster for regular people, and the same for the transcendent themselves.

The desecration incident that happened in Totnes is neither the first nor the last; I don’t want that kind of event to happen in Hamlet."

These words were simple in reasoning, and Alviss could understand them, but they seemed to convey another meaning between the lines.

"So what is the Lord’s intention?"

"To strip away those inhuman, twisted, evil forces, and maybe even eliminate them entirely, to separate from certain notorious individuals and restore a positive image for the transcendent community.

At the same time, limiting transcendents from using supernatural powers in public areas to reduce the risks... "

"Isn’t that still suppression and restriction?"

"Power and responsibility are mutual; you’re how old, and you’re acting like a big infant."

Lance unceremoniously mocked him, leaving Alviss silent.

"In Hamlet, at least no one needs to worry about being hunted by the Church for awakening their supernatural powers, nor worry about suddenly becoming materials for some transcendents.

You should know how many novice transcendents blindly stepped onto this path, received no proper guidance—not even a waste of talent is an issue—but instead, suffered strange backlashes, ultimately losing control and causing harm to themselves and others.

They simply have no choice, but Hamlet can provide them with a space for choice; to be regular beings or to explore and study their powers in a relatively stable environment."

Saying this, Lance accumulated some temper, pointing sharply at Alviss, displaying a look of holding high expectations.

"Current chaos in the supernormal realm is due to the high-level figures like you not doing your part; why don’t you dare confront the Church?

Because you elitists treat transcendents as materials, as expendables, constantly harvesting them.

The suppression initiated by the Church to maintain their power is also in your interest because only in this way can you maintain your advantage.

You’re a transcendent yourself; why look down on transcendents? Do you still truly believe you’re superior? Just a bunch of stagnating old codgers."

"Stop, stop..." Alviss awkwardly waved his hands.

No matter what, everyone involved is a person of standing; who talks like this?

"I’ll plan a zone to develop a market for transcendents, alongside academies, laboratories, and..."

Lance wasn’t trying to attack him with all this talk because Alviss was still useful.

Whether as one of the few legendary casters or a freelancer, he still had influence among transcendents.

Besides, he’s one of the caster community’s old hands in architecture, having put together major projects like Totnes Rat Street. It could run for so many years, as the relevant experience and the variety of ceremonial spells are invaluable.

Alviss was no fool, quickly sensing something wasn’t quite right.

"Why tell me all this?"

"Then why ask me so many questions?"

"I’m just here for tourism."

"Doesn’t matter, you know too much—already triggered Hamlet’s secret law—you should know the consequences."

"Getting beat to death, right." Alviss’ face held a carnivalesque expression of helplessness, the ultimate frustration.

He truly couldn’t follow the Lord’s line of thought.

If you want my help, shouldn’t you be nice and talk rewards to ask me?

Why start off by slap-down insults, threatening to beat me to death?

Only because he couldn’t win in a fight; otherwise, he’d really want to smash over with a magic wand.

Seeing him like this, Lance simply chuckled and waved his hand to mock him.

"Alright, alright, just kidding—no need to be upset. Am I that kind of person? Whether you stay or leave is your freedom; I won’t handle it.

But I do want to change the current chaos of the world, to provide humans with a stable living space; it’s certainly inclusive of transcendents because in my view, it’s just the same.

Whether you join or not doesn’t matter; I’m not petty—you can stay in Hamlet to witness it all."

"Aren’t you afraid of the Church and those people?" Alviss pressed further, as he could naturally feel the current environment—because he was in it.

Threatening those people’s interests basically means opposing the whole supernormal realm.

"Afraid not, otherwise I’d be no different from you? Made it to this age, a full power yet still muddleheaded, unable to change the world or oneself.

Rat Street’s name is apt; living like street rats driven by those people, not even daring to look up at them, yet flaunting experience here with me? Worth it?"

Dropping these words, Lance finally released his terrifying aura, declaring unabashedly his ambition.

"Whoever stands in my way, I kill them; one blocks, I kill one; two blocks, I kill two—no matter how many come, just one word—kill!"

In the instant, Alviss only felt his hair standing on end, his body functions out of control, frozen in place, not daring to look that man in the eye, not even once.

The oppressive feeling was suffocating, a genuine sensation far exceeding death’s dread.

Now he understood why Lance said he was polite earlier, just joking.

He didn’t even know when Lance left, standing there in a daze, lost in thought.

The rebuke indeed stirred strange emotions within Alviss.

Yes, I’m a legend too; why should I run away?

Perhaps I also have a chance to change all this, yet I retreated...