Our Family Has Fallen

"That’s right, both of them are in the ward, but why are you asking about this?"

Speaking of this, Grendel was somewhat puzzled. She thought Lance wanted to imprison them until death, or quietly kill them when things settled down.

"Release them, there are so many undead in the ruins that regular adventurers cannot defeat, isn’t the church preaching all sorts of nonsense every day? Let the church come help us fight."

Lance kept the two for a reason; he needed a strong enough individual to draw the ancestor’s attention. Now was the time.

"You continue, I’m going to meet those two."

Lance walked through the eerie wards of the sanatorium. Recently, many death row prisoners were held here, and among them, the Ascension Cultists had long been used up. Now, the detainees were spies and traitors.

There were also wandering bandits, pirates, and the like; all beyond saving, they were being used as waste.

Among them were a few women. Female test subjects were much more precious to Paracelsus, as female death row prisoners were hard to come by, thanks to those spies.

The differences in body structure between men and women were a focus of medical research, but what Lance was interested in was the Church Duo held deeper within.

The door with its steel plates had dense fist marks on it, and the doorframe was slightly deformed, indicating how fearsome the inmates inside really were.

The more powerful the transcendent individuals, the more they needed to eat, or take potions filled with power to sustain themselves.

Unfortunately, the sanatorium served black bread once every three days, which was enough just to catch one’s breath, making breaking the door unlikely.

The door was opened by Lance, revealing only a small window in the dark room, shedding a little light on the burly figure inside.

"The time has come, you’re released."

Lance didn’t waste many words, simply signaling with a phrase.

Silence, but movement commenced. The Candlelight Priest’s fists still exhibited dried bloodstains.

Without the hammer and shield, and relieved from heavy armor, the champion was just ordinary without the support of extraordinary equipment.

"Follow me, and bring the other."

Lance led him to the room where the Mendicant Monk was held. Things appeared ordinary, with the opened door revealing an old man seated on the bed, lost in meditation.

The old git could still sit peacefully, looking entirely different from before, seemingly calm. His scarred face bore a strange smile, appearing eerie.

Wise in adversity, the old fellow truly had thick skin.

Those church fiends were ferocious when things were in their favor, but as mild as possible when outmatched.

However, Lance was unconcerned, leading the two out of the sanatorium, not forgetting to remind them.

"Let’s go, next time you won’t have merit to offset your sins."

"What about my weapon?" The Candlelight Priest asked, seeing Lance had not mentioned it. Unlike the monk’s restraint, he was straightforward.

"Equipment? What equipment?" Lance was about to turn back when hearing this, he couldn’t help but chuckle with a tease, "Speaking of which, I almost forgot, you broke my door, how are you going to compensate?"

They followed the school of no money, otherwise, they wouldn’t be called mendicant monks. Asking them for money was real difficulty.

Unable to fight back, regarding the church identity, Lance had no fear; this left the Candlelight Priest awkward, regretting those few punches.

Seeing the priest in a dilemma, Lance merely smiled and with a flick of his hand, the shield and warhammer manifested and were tossed to him.

"Take them."

Even in such a state, the priest reacted immediately, reaching out for the gear, showing uncontrolled surprise on his face.

When he looked again at Lance, whose scarred face reflected unspeakable confusion.

He certainly hadn’t anticipated Lance really returning his gear, but feeling the power boost from them in his hand, there was no doubt, it was authentic.

"What are you looking at?" Lance appeared nonchalant, even reminding, "Go fetch your armor and various items from the police evidence room yourself."

Ah! Are you serious?

The mendicant monk couldn’t hold back, greedily approaching to inquire.

"Lord, what about my magic wand?"

Lance saw the old guy acting like this, and couldn’t help but laugh, teasingly, "I thought you truly didn’t care~"

The coaxing tone did not humiliate the monk, as expected of an old-hand in the field.

Lance surprisingly returned the legendary magic wand, the so-called [Martyr’s Halo], to the monk.

Without much ado, with simple words, Lance turned back, unconcerned.

The reason was simple: without equipment, transcendent individuals, particularly spellcasters like monks, drastically lacked power.

He needed to arm these two and thrust them to the forefront.

Why did Lance guide them to retrieve their things from the police station?

He aimed to inform everyone of their release, while notifying the duo of the opening of the ruins.

They had no choice but to go; Lance would leverage public opinion to spread the news, morally constraining the two.

If lacking equipment, they might have runaway excuses, pointing fingers at Lance, but now they have no reason.