Chapter 482: Garrick Blackmane

Garrick’s grip tightened, his massive fingers digging into Gill’s arm. His voice came out low and rough, each word grinding through clenched teeth.

"What do you mean by that? Are you making something up?"

Gill didn’t flinch. He met Garrick’s burning gaze without looking away.

"What I’m telling you is the truth. I can’t prove it to you—" he paused, a faint, bitter smile tugging at his lips, "—but the entire continent already thinks I’m a murderer anyway. So just take it however you want."

Selena watched him carefully. Her voice was calm, measured.

"So Wincent’s plan is to follow what your master wanted. To become a god."

Gill nodded slowly.

"That’s right. But it’s only a theory. My master died before he could prove it himself."

Garrick’s face twisted. Something inside him snapped. He grabbed Gill by the collar and lifted him clean off the ground, his arm trembling with barely restrained fury.

"Then what?! You killed a man who wanted to become a god? Does that justify what you’re doing now?!" His voice rose, echoing through the ruined building. "You created sacrifices. You helped that man on his path to godhood. What makes you any different from him now?!"

Gill didn’t struggle. He dangled in Garrick’s grip, his glasses askew, his expression tired and hollow.

Garrick’s chest heaved. His grip tightened, and for a moment it looked like he might tear Gill apart right there.

Then Selena stepped closer. Her eyes had drifted to Gill’s exposed stomach, where his shirt had ridden up during the struggle. A strange mark was etched into his skin like a brand that had been burned into him from the inside.

Her voice came out quiet, but sharp.

"That mark... were you forced to do this?"

Gill let out a slow, tired breath. His body still hung in Garrick’s grip, but his voice was steady when he finally spoke.

"Yeah. You could say that." He paused, his eyes drifting down toward the mark on his stomach. "Even though I knew what I was doing was wrong... I didn’t have any other choice."

Selena studied him for a moment longer, then turned to Garrick. Her voice was calm but firm.

"Garrick. Put him down. Let him speak."

Garrick didn’t move. His jaw was tight, his teeth clenched, and his grip on Gill’s collar only tightened. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough, each word heavy with barely restrained rage.

"I don’t care if he was forced or not."

He turned his head slowly toward Selena, his eyes burning.

"This man still did something monstrous. Forced or not, he still made sacrifices out of my people. He still helped the one who wants to become a god. I don’t care what mark is on his body or what excuses he has."

His voice rose, echoing through the ruined building.

"He still did it. And that’s all that matters."

Gill looked up at Garrick, still rubbing his throat. His voice was quiet, but steady.

"Yeah, I made a mistake. But I didn’t sacrifice innocent people."

Garrick’s head snapped toward him. His eyes widened, then narrowed. He grabbed Gill by the collar and yanked him closer, his grip tightening until the Archivist’s feet dangled off the ground.

"What do you mean by that?"

Gill didn’t struggle. He just met Garrick’s gaze, his voice calm despite the pressure on his throat.

"When I was forced to do it, I chose people who deserved it. Mages. Beastkin. I picked them specifically." He paused, letting the words sink in. "And because of that, I did something troublesome. I dug up every piece of information I could find on everyone in this city."

Garrick’s grip tightened. His knuckles were white.

"And thanks to that," Gill continued, his voice dropping, "I also learned about you, Garrick Blackmane. Former honorable clan member of the Vorakhan Kingdom. And the man who killed his entire clan and was exiled for it."

He tilted his head slightly, meeting Garrick’s burning gaze.

"Am I wrong?"

Garrick’s face twisted. His eyes blazed with fury, and a low growl rumbled from deep in his chest.

"You—!"

His hand shot forward and closed around Gill’s throat. The Archivist gasped, his feet lifting off the ground as Garrick squeezed. His glasses fell askew, and his face began to turn pale.

Selena’s voice cut through the room like a blade.

"Stop it. Now, Garrick. That’s an order."

But Garrick didn’t hear her. His body was already changing. Fur sprouted along his arms. His jaw elongated, teeth sharpening into fangs. His eyes burned gold, and his head shifted into the shape of a wolf. A deep, guttural snarl tore from his throat.

Selena moved instantly. She raised her hand and brought it down in a sharp, decisive motion.

Guards poured into the room from every entrance—armored figures with spears and shields, moving with practiced precision. They surrounded Garrick in seconds, weapons leveled at his throat, his chest, his limbs.

"Stand down," Selena said, her voice cold and absolute. "Now."

Garrick froze. His wolfish eyes darted from one guard to the next. His breath came in ragged, furious gasps. Gill hung limp in his grip, coughing, gasping for air.

Then, slowly, Garrick’s fingers loosened. Gill dropped to the floor, choking and sputtering. Garrick’s form shifted back—fur receding, jaw cracking back into human shape, eyes dimming to their normal color.

He stood there, surrounded by spears, his chest heaving.

Selena stepped forward until she was face to face with him. Her voice was quiet, but it carried the weight of command.

"Are you done?"

Garrick didn’t answer. He just stared at her, his jaw tight, his fists trembling at his sides.

Selena didn’t look away.

"I asked you a question."

Garrick couldn’t speak. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

His mind raced, thoughts crashing into each other like waves against a cliff.

’How does he know that? How could he possibly know that in that much detail?’

His eyes stayed fixed on Gill, who was still on the floor, coughing and rubbing his throat.

’That’s classified. Only the royal family knows...’

Selena watched Garrick for a long moment. When it became clear he wasn’t going to speak, she turned her attention to Gill instead.

"I also thought something was strange about those documents that suddenly appeared in my quarters during the assassin attack."

She stepped closer to Gill, her eyes narrowing.

"Was that your doing, Archivist?"

Gill looked up at her, still massaging his throat. His voice came out hoarse, but steady.

"...Yeah. That was me."