CHAPTER 21: LIN CAPTURED

Draven’s eyes flashed. "Don’t let a single one escape. I want them alive." His guards surged, crushing the final resistance.

Cornered, the assassins dropped their weapons, some begging for mercy, others trying to vanish into smoke, only to be captured by Caelum Draven’s elite. Within minutes, the estate was secure. The attackers, so confident a moment before, now knelt in defeat, surrounded by Draven’s forces.

Above the battered estate, the night settled into silence again, broken only by Caelum Draven’s cold, satisfied command: "Interrogate them. I want to know who sent them and who else is plotting against me."

Lin, who was slowly slipping away, suddenly heard a sharp ping in his mind.

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[System Notice: You have been marked by a strong person.]

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Marked? By whom?

Before he could move another step, a shadow fell across him. It was Caelum Draven himself.

Eyes narrowed, lips curled in a faint, curious smile. "Well, well. Look what we have here. You’re an interesting one, aren’t you?" Draven’s voice was smooth, cold, amused. Lin met Draven’s gaze, and only one thought blazed through his mind: I am so screwed.

Draven crouched, meeting Lin’s eyes. "You’re not afraid. Good. Fearless goats are rare—useful, too."

He straightened and flicked two fingers; guards closed in. "Bring him in. I want a closer look. Let’s see if the doctor improved this batch of goats."

A chill crawled up Lin’s fetlocks. One word echoed: I am so fucked now.

A new notification appeared:

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[System Mission: Royal Interest—Escape

Alert: Caelum Draven has taken an interest in you after witnessing your "fearlessness." You have been captured.

Mission Objective:

Escape captivity.Help one or more goats escape (excluding Bojo).

Rewards: Unknown

Failure Condition: Unknown

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Lin read the entire message, but showed no reaction or emotion. He didn’t want any more "liking" or attention from Caelum Draven—he’d had more than enough of that already, thank you very much. If anything, the notification felt like a cruel joke, cosmic sarcasm aimed squarely at his reckless choices.

This is what I get for being so "fearless." Great job, Lin.

Soon, a guard roughly looped a rope around Lin’s neck and began dragging him through the ruined halls. His hooves scraped over broken tiles, and the world blurred past—a chaotic collage of shattered statues and burning tapestries. The distant chaos and shouting faded behind him, swallowed by the cold hush of the estate’s inner chambers. With every step away from the noise, the silence felt heavier, as if the walls were holding their breath.

Lin didn’t bother struggling. What was the point? These men were bigger and stronger than he was, and there was no way he could outrun them—not now, not with a rope digging into his neck and his own "bravery" having landed him trapped in the middle of this nightmare. He kept his head down, jaw clenched tight, cursing himself for ever thinking he could walk into this situation and come out unscathed.

"I really shouldn’t have come here. Next time, maybe I’ll try being a little less "interesting."

Back in the chamber, the metallic smell of blood hung in the air. A few goats shifted, eyes glazed but following his movement.

Draven’s voice broke the silence. "Do you know what you are?" he asked, almost casually. "You’re..."

Lin stared, unblinking. His mind raced, but his body stayed perfectly still.

Caelum Draven paced before him, hands clasped behind his back, lips moving in a steady rhythm. But it was all noise—nothing but tangled gibberish in Lin’s ears.

"What the hell is happening? Lin’s breath hitched. Why can’t I understand him?" Panic flared until realization dawned: his ’Language’ skill had timed out, leaving him stranded on the other side of comprehension.

He hurriedly checked his system—just a cold, unfeeling cooldown timer. Six days, twenty-three hours—useless!

Comeon, system, just a little longer. "Iswear, I’ll never badmouth you again! Please, just this once, let me understand!"

But there was no response, only the quiet tick of missed opportunity.

Meanwhile, Draven leaned closer, lowering his voice confidentially—but it was all the same to Lin: just gibberish. Lin focused on Draven’s body language, watching the set of his jaw, the intensity of his eyes, the small sharp gestures that hinted at the importance of what was being said. He is missing something; this guy is probably saying something very important, probably about the farm or his personal life.

Soon, Draven withdrew a strange orb, unwrapping it slowly and ritualistically for dramatic effect. Lin’s nerves tightened. Is this some kind of bomb? A spell? His heart pounded with a creeping dread. "Maybe I should back away before I find out what a roasted goat tastes like..."

Draven then raised it high and soon the orb cast an eerie, pale light that shifted shadows in the room. Draven’s gaze swept the room, searching for some response. But nothing stirred—only the quiet scrape of straw and the faint rustle of restless goats filled the silence.

The light dimmed, and Draven’s mouth curled downward in silent frustration. Harsh words slipped out—still unintelligible gibberish—but his tightening grip on the orb betrayed his rising impatience.

Lin forced slow, steady breaths, carefully memorizing the sequence of movements and sounds. Whatever Draven sought, he didn’t find it. Yet Lin knew something important had happened—and he’d missed it all, thanks to his expiring skill.

Caelum Draven, still muttering under his breath, flicked his wrist sharply through the air as if navigating something invisible before him. It only lasted an instant; within seconds, Draven was back to normal.

Still, Lin caught the move. Time seemed to suspend itself, Lin’s pulse thudded in his ears—loud, lonely drums marking the seconds he’d just lost. Only then did the moment unfreeze, breath rushing back into his lungs. What was that? What did he just do?

No answers came. Lin froze, mind spinning through unnerving possibilities. Please don’t let any of those come true.

Draven raised the orb high again, the orb did the same it did last time, it glowed in an eerie glow, but in the next second it dimmed down.

In the next second, Caelum Draven’s composure snapped back, icy-cold. He barked out, "Terywerryeryey urowit ao oi aoitaoitua"—the words meant nothing to Lin, but the intent was obvious. In the next second, a guard rushed in from outside, appearing before Draven and nodding as if he understood every word.