Chapter 185: Belated Regret 2

The underground dungeon exuded a gloomy, ominous aura. As we descended those stairs, Cazeros and I felt a peculiar sensation.

“Come to think of it…this is our first time here since initially coming to Bohemia, isn’t it?”

“Yes, that previous occasion was when Lord Santana and I were falsely accused as Church spies, landing us in quite a predicament.”

“Ah yes, all due to those very individuals over there, no less.”

“Truly an ironic situation when viewed that way.”

Acknowledging the remarkable circumstances, we arrived at the underground prison entrance with Polena.

Upon seeing us, Nune and Tine, seated on the floor, urgently scrambled toward the iron bars. The guards, anticipating potential unrest, gripped their spears warily.

We too remained cautious.

‘While this place has anti-magic barriers installed, they are aura-wielders. They can’t break the bars, but one can never be too careful…’

‘Such a dramatic reaction…does it reflect their resentment toward us? Certainly, our entanglement has left its marks on their lives…’

Though wronged, they harbored ample reasons to resent us.

Factoring that in, we braced for any rash actions from the pair.

However, their subsequent behavior defied our wariness:

“Lord…Santana!”

“Cazeros!”

They urgently called our names before pleading fervently:

“We…we were wrong! Failing to recognize your noble selves, our grave error…”

“Cazeros! We’re so sorry! W…what we did then was unavoidable…Bishop Maxim forced us! We never harbored ill will toward you! We only…wanted to survive!”

Unprompted, they feverishly bowed while offering excuses for their past conduct.

Clearly understanding their dire predicament, Cazeros and I inwardly managed wry smiles.

‘Honestly, I expected them to maintain some dignity even in this situation…’

‘It seems they lack any such intentions…’

Their actions perfectly embodied the phrase “begging for one’s life.”

Witnessing their pathetic state, a sense of deflation overcame us as we contemplated their fate.

Beholding Cazeros and me – individuals now wielding power far beyond their reach – Nune and Tine desperately apologized, beseeching us.

In that moment, any notion of preserving dignity eluded them.

Survival took absolute priority – even if attaining it required grasping the very noose tightening around their necks.

“Please…please forgive us just this once…we were wrong.”

“We’ll…do anything you ask. So please…spare our lives…!”

They practically foamed at the mouth, desperately clinging to any lifeline.

Then, regarding their frenzy calmly, Santana spoke:

“…You wish to live…is that it?”

They vigorously nodded at his words.

A serene smile emerged on Santana’s lips as he replied:

“Very well. I shall spare you. Answer my questions truthfully, and I’ll let you live.”

“Ask…anything!”

“We’ll…answer everything truthfully! Please…!”

Though inherently shameless, facing one so intimately familiar robbed them of any capacity to withhold secrets.

And to them, Santana began posing questions in a composed tone.

Naturally, Santana’s inquiries to Nune and Tine concerned their affiliated forces.

Beyond their movements and troop strengths, he asked about internal affairs, command structures, and the high leadership.

Regarding those matters, the pair divulged everything they knew without reservation.

Had they retained any shred of loyalty or principle, they might have tried feeding false intel to aid their erstwhile comrades.

Alas, they lacked both the requisite intelligence to effectively deceive and any such noble sentiments.

Until their capture, constant dissatisfaction with their treatment had been their norm.

They saw no reason to risk themselves for such ingrates. Revealing all they knew to secure their own survival was the wiser recourse.

‘Those bastards are the ones who reduced us to this state. If the higher-ups had treated us decently, we wouldn’t have ended up drunkenly captured like this.’

‘We’re not to blame. It’s all their fault. No need to show loyalty to such scum…’

Thus, Nune and Tine laid bare every scrap of intelligence they possessed.

Once this interrogation concluded smoothly, Santana calmly addressed them:

“Good. You spoke truthfully, so as promised, your lives will be spared.”

“Ah…”

“Thank…thank you! Thank you!”

Genuinely overjoyed at surviving, they repeatedly bowed their heads.

Then, leaving them behind, Santana and Cazeros unhesitatingly departed.

At that moment…

“W…wait! Just a moment!”

“What…what becomes of us now?”

Their frantic queries prompted Santana’s indifferent response:

“What becomes of you? You’ll remain rotting here for a while. I said I’d spare your lives, didn’t I? Never mentioned anything more. Though if you insist, the gallows await…”

“No…no! That won’t be necessary!…Th…thank you!”

“We’re truly grateful for this mercy, Lord Santana!”

Unable to even broach the notion of release, Nune and Tine meekly bowed their heads.

Immediately afterward, a profound sense of enervation overcame them as they slumped onto the damp dungeon floor.

Fortunately, they no longer feared imminent death.

Yet before any relief could manifest, a stark realization dawned upon them:

Their lives had now plunged into utter ruin.

‘There is always a lower depth beneath the bottom…’

‘In the end, we’ve deteriorated to this state…from ill-treated soldiers to dungeon prisoners…’

The cramped, pitch-black confines devoid of any illumination…

Having to subsist within this space could prove more tormenting than death itself.

‘If only…if only we hadn’t indulged our greed and selfishness…could our situation have improved…?’

‘If we had helped Santana back then…could we have avoided this wretched fate…?’

Overwhelmed with profound regret over their squandered past…

Lamenting their own follies…

The pair descended into the deepest abysses of despair, huddled within the enveloping darkness.