Chapter 264 | Survival Guide for a Doomed Villain in the Academy Dungeon

A darkness like the abyss itself shrouded the entire imperial capital.

There was no sun in the sky. Instead, a massive black sphere, resembling an abyssal eye, hovered over the city.

The black sun emitted an ominous glow, bathing the entire imperial capital in a bizarre, blood-red hue.

In the streets, soldiers of the Imperial Knights held their weapons and stared up at the black sun, their faces filled with horror and bewilderment.

Their armor gleamed coldly under the dark red light, but their eyes had lost their usual sharp edge, leaving only helplessness in the face of the unknown.

Some muttered to themselves, some collapsed to the ground, and some even threw down their swords to clutch their heads, as if they had lost all will to fight.

Farther away in the square, countless citizens of the Empire knelt on the ground with their hands clasped, praying to the sky.

Their voices merged into a low hum that echoed through the city like a rising tide.

Some called upon the name of the Goddess of Light with terrified expressions, while others prayed to the black sun in the sky with fervent excitement.

Yet, the black sun hung silently in the sky, like an indifferent eye looking down upon the sprawling city below.

Wendy wanted to move, but she found herself unable to budge even a fraction of an inch.

She looked down at her body.

Her hands were bound by heavy iron chains, and she wore a prisoner's garb. She was tied to a tall execution stand like a sacrificial offering.

She wanted to scream, but no sound would come from her throat.

She could only watch helplessly as the black sun slowly descended, sinking lower and lower, drawing closer and closer, as if it were about to swallow the entire city whole—

Suddenly, a violent headache split her consciousness like a bolt of lightning.

Wendy snapped her eyes open. What met her gaze was a dim, dark ceiling.

Damp air mixed with the scent of mold and rust rushed into her nose, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed in her ears.

She found herself lying on a hard wooden bed covered in straw. She wore a coarse prisoner's uniform, and cold iron chains shackled her wrists and ankles.

She let out a slow breath. “...So it was just a dream.”

She sat up, the chains clinking sharply with her movement.

It was a small prison cell, with thick stone walls on three sides and a row of heavy iron bars in front. Beyond the bars lay a dim corridor, at the end of which a flickering yellow oil lamp swayed.

The air was thick with dampness and decay, but there were no sounds from other prisoners, as she was the only one confined in this entire section of the prison.

Yet, despite her surroundings, Wendy's face showed no sign of fear or despair.

She leaned against the wall, closed her eyes, and quietly organized the current situation in her mind.

She had returned to the royal family openly on purpose, even willingly letting herself be captured by her imperial brother's men.

All of this was currently part of her plan.

She dared to do this for two reasons. First, she believed in Greg.

She remembered the words the Bishop had said to her when they parted: “Go do what you can.”

She believed the Bishop must have anticipated this situation, and he would definitely come to save her in the end.

Thus, even though she was in danger now, she wasn't overly worried.

Second, after returning to the royal family, she had discovered that her imperial brother, Finn, had already monopolized most of the political resources, and the Prime Minister had completely sided with him.

Normal political avenues were completely blocked. She had no way to expose her brother's wrongdoing through official channels.

Only at the moment she was brought to the execution stand, in the square before the eyes of the public, would she have the opportunity to speak out and expose the truth that the Crown Prince was being manipulated.

So, this was essentially her only chance.

Just as Wendy was lost in thought, a set of footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor.

Soon, a figure appeared under the dim light.

It was a middle-aged man wearing a black tailcoat and white gloves. His hair was combed meticulously, and he wore a professional smile, looking every bit like a standard noble steward.

He stopped in front of the iron bars of the cell, bowed slightly, and spoke in a respectful and elegant tone:

“Your Highness, the Fifth Imperial Princess. I am the steward serving His Highness the Crown Prince. The Crown Prince has a few words he has entrusted me to convey to you.”

Wendy's gaze fell upon him. Though he appeared polite, she felt an extremely uncomfortable aura radiating from him, as if something were watching her from the shadows, sending a chill down her spine.

Wendy suddenly recalled that this man had seemingly appeared out of nowhere at her brother's side about half a year ago.

After that, her brother's attitude toward her had changed drastically, shifting from cold indifference to outright hostility.

A thought flashed through Wendy's mind—perhaps the reason for her brother's sudden change was connected to this man.

Combining this with the information the Bishop had given her about the dungeons and the Demon King Cult, she suspected that this person had come from the dungeon hidden behind the Imperial Capital Labyrinth.

But weren't there only monsters in the dungeons?

Although this man carried an aura that disgusted her, he did indeed look human... Could there actually be humans living inside the dungeons?

If so, why were they in the dungeon, and how did they survive?

Question after question flooded Wendy's mind, but the other party did not give her much time to ponder.

Seeing her silence, the steward spoke directly to convey the message:

“The Crown Prince asked me to tell you: if you are willing to personally confess your faults to Father, he will also persuade Father to retract the execution order.”

Wendy's eyes flickered slightly.

The first thing she noticed was not that she had a chance to escape danger, but rather that her father's situation was indeed no longer looking good.

It seemed her brother had been completely controlled by his desires, turned into a mere puppet.

“...”

Seeing that Wendy remained silent, the steward spoke again, a hint of urgency in his tone. “Your Highness, what is your choice?”

Wendy raised her head, staring directly at him.

“Enough. Those are not words my brother would say. Since he has already gone this far, he would never let slip an opportunity to have me killed.”

The steward's smile slowly faded.

Wendy continued, “Blatantly delivering such false instructions is hardly the work of a qualified steward, is it?”

The steward fell silent for a moment, then suddenly covered his face and laughed aloud.

The laughter echoed in the quiet cell, carrying an indescribable creepiness.

After laughing for a while, he lowered his hand, clapped, and spoke in an appreciative tone:

“You are right. I am indeed ill-suited to be a steward.”

His gaze turned greedy and burning, like a hunter evaluating prey that had fallen into a trap.

“After those who were tracking you were killed, I thought you had already awakened and were intentionally evading us. I never expected you to deliver yourself right back to us—this truly is a pleasant surprise.”

Wendy's pupils contracted slightly. His words made absolutely no sense to her. “What do you mean by that? And who on earth are you?”

“Who I am is not important to you right now.”

The steward turned around and walked toward the exit, his steps leisurely and composed.

“What matters is that since you are unwilling to cooperate, I would like to take this opportunity to conduct an experiment. I want to see if your death will have any effect on Her... hehehe...”