The Poet's System
Chapter 64: Heavy Troll

Chapter 64: Heavy Troll

A voice echoed through the walls of Daylan’s cell, jolting him from his slumber. He immediately sat upright to find Captain Rhea seated before the cell gate.

"I was expecting you to get in a few workouts today, but I guess I expected too much from you."

"Why does it matter? No matter what I do, it’s not like I’m ever getting out. I just wanted to rest for once," Daylan replied, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

The moment Daylan teleported back from Spine Street the night before, he made it just in time—right before the guard came to check on him, just as he’d suspected.

He pretended to sleep, but sleep claimed him entirely, and he ended up sleeping through the whole night into the afternoon.

What sparked his outrage wasn’t enough to justify the intensity of it. It was as if something had fueled it—something deeper, amplifying his fury tenfold.

Though it made Dark Spiral stronger than ever, even the few minutes he used it took a heavy toll, leaving him completely drained.

"Oh, really?" Rhea locked eyes with Daylan for a moment, smirked, then turned and walked away. As he watched her leave, Daylan sank to the floor once more and drifted back to sleep.

At least, that’s how it seemed. He lay there wide awake, fully aware. Rhea checking on him at random could only mean one thing—they were still trying to get something out of him. Anything.

As he lay there, he listened closely to the sounds in the hall, hoping to catch anything—any clue about the Fools or where his fate might stand.

It felt as if nothing was meant for his curious ears—until a guard muttered during a conversation with his colleagues just outside.

"They killed twenty guards. Twenty!"

Daylan smirked the moment he heard it.

Rhea might be trying to get something out of him, but twenty dead guards were more than enough to be taken seriously—unless someone had managed to bypass his mind control. But he doubted that.

He settled gently onto the floor. Many threats still loomed over him, but with one obstacle already out of the way, all he wanted was to be present and savor the moment while it lasted.

The rest of the day passed as uneventfully as the ones before. He stayed on the floor for a while, shifting now and then—just enough to mimic the idle movements of someone bored, not suspicious.

Throughout the day, he managed to piece together a few things about the bandits.

Though the details were shallow, they were enough to form a complete picture in his mind.

After he left the bandits alone, they somehow made their way onto the bridge spanning the river that separated the church from the southern district—Daylan’s neighborhood.

There, dozens of guards were waiting—more than enough to overwhelm them. Though the bandits held their ground and managed to kill five more guards, they were eventually captured.

Whether they were taken dead or alive was unclear, but from the guards’ tones and expressions, Daylan had no doubt they believed the bandits were the Fools.

Still, there was no sign that Daylan would break—at least not that day. Yet his thoughts weren’t limited to the bandits. The idea that someone among his closest companions was a traitor was still too difficult to accept.

Even so, there was a thought he couldn’t shake. Why would any of them reveal their secrets if they were already involved?

And more importantly, was everything really blamed on him—or had they simply singled him out? If that was the case, then why hadn’t they just arrested him on those charges from the start?

He had no answers, but one thing was certain: the moment he got out, he was going to break it all down—and for what it was worth, make them taste their own medicine.

Night fell before he realized it, and with little to expect, it passed just like the ones before. Before long, daybreak arrived.

"You’ve been cleared, Daylan."

Rhea’s words cut through Daylan’s daze, snapping him out of sleep. He instinctively turned toward her, rubbing his eyes as he stared through blurry vision, trying to process what she’d said.

"You’re free to go now—but I have one request: spar with me."

The hall fell silent as all eyes turned to her. Clearly, sparring with Rhea wasn’t something they heard every day—their confused and stunned expressions said it all.

"You say what?" Daylan asked, confused.

"I’ll spar with you at your mansion. Just you and me."

Before Daylan could even accept or decline, Rhea opened the gate, grabbed him by the collar, and started dragging him out of the guardhouse. He struggled at first, trying to break free, but eventually relaxed—her grip was as firm as they come.

The guards’ expressions darkened the moment they realized they wouldn’t get to witness their captain in action. Disappointed glances were exchanged, accompanied by a few chuckles and muttered remarks.

Rhea simply tossed Daylan into the carriage, climbed in after him, and ordered the driver to move. Her expression was unreadable as she stared out the window, while Daylan pushed himself up, rubbing the back of his head before taking a seat.

Not once did either of them utter a word. The road from the southern district to the northern was unusually quiet—not nearly as busy as it was on most days. It felt as if all the citizens had vanished from the north.

Daylan glanced around in confusion, but he didn’t want to break the silence—he was enjoying it. He just hoped he’d understand things later.

Before long, they arrived at Daylan’s place.

The Victorian house looked no different from when he’d last left it.

But standing in front of it was the guard—bald-headed, with a chiseled build and a brown waistcoat—the same one Daylan had met during his last visit.

They stepped out of the carriage, and Rhea gestured for the guard to wait inside. He obeyed without question.

Then, without warning, Rhea wrapped her arm around Daylan’s neck as if they were old friends. Daylan was both confused and uncomfortable, but he knew trying to break free would be pointless.

"With all the training you’ve been doing, I want to see what you can do against me," she said with a giggle.

Daylan wore a playful sneer as they walked into the house.

As soon as they reached the living room, Rhea let go of Daylan and began cracking her knuckles with a smirk, while Daylan rolled his neck in a slow stretch.

"There’ll be much more in it for you if you manage to give me a good fight. And just from your eyes, I can tell you’re not the type to pass up an offer like that." She deepened her smirk.

Daylan gave her a lazy look at first, then his expression shifted to one of excitement. He knew Rhea was bound to drop a hint—whether about his enemies, the ones she had already mentioned, or something more specific about why he’d been held for so long.

Either way, he knew he had to play along with her little game.

"There’s never a dull fight when I’m involved."

"That’s the spirit."

Neither of them wanted to waste a single moment, so without further ado, they headed into the training room.

Daylan was shirtless, cracking his knuckles, while Rhea wore a black vest, her heavy metallic gloves already summoned—her Worth artifact.

The moment Daylan summoned his dagger, Rhea’s expression darkened. "Are you sure you can take me on with just a dagger?"

Daylan smirked, holding his stance. "Don’t worry about that, dear... you’re going to enjoy this."

Daylan had seen her use those gloves before—during the tournament when she fought Astara. They had a sharp edge, strong enough to make Astara’s eyes bleed the moment they clashed.

He had no idea how he was going to break through her defense, but he was determined to make sure she enjoyed the fight regardless.

Energy Manifest

In an instant, Daylan was in front of her, his dagger aimed straight at her throat. But she was quick—reacting just in time to dodge the strike, though it was a close call.

Daylan gave her no time to recover, following up with another strike from the left. Rhea was caught off guard and balance, but she managed to deflect most of the blow with her right glove—still, the impact sent her sliding back across the floor.

"Whoa, you’re not an Honor Chivalry for nothing, huh?"

Rhea barely finished her sentence before Daylan struck again—this time aiming straight for her jaw, giving her no time to react.

If Daylan had learned anything from his fight with Giselle, it was to never let an opponent start a casual conversation mid-fight—he’d have no idea what they were planning until it was too late.

Rhea narrowly avoided the strike, a wide grin spreading across her face. "Now this is getting interesting."

Daylan used the momentum from his missed jab to spin around, slamming his left fist into Rhea’s gut and sending her crashing to the ground.

"You’re serious about this, huh? Haha... I guess I need to get serious too," she said, excitement gleaming in her eyes as she pushed herself to her feet.