Despite this, the near-fanatical reverence he and the other knights held for her was genuine.
This made it impossible for Pavela to even get angry.
After all, objectively speaking, their current actions were indeed helping her.
From Boria's intermittent descriptions, Pavela pieced together what they had done after taking over the Black Tower.
Before their jailbreak, the managent of this tower could be described as a complete ss.
A large number of dangerous and unstable souls were placed on the poorly guarded lower floors simply because their the return sequence was not high or their soul strength was low.
This led to many problems.
For example, a soul that seed very weak.
Might actually have been a madman in life.
Or perhaps it had been completely twisted by the erosion of the Path of the Tower.
Then it would suddenly go berserk, attacking other souls or even attempting to destroy the tower's structure.
And the Gatekeeper's way of handling this was—
Wait until they'd caused enough trouble, then stuff them back in.
Or simply try to dissolve them.
Simple and crude, but it treated the symptoms rather than the cause.
So, after The Order took over, the first thing they did was reconstruct the space within the tower.
They evaluated every soul.
Integrating soul strength and danger levels.
They placed them where they belonged.
This first floor they were currently on, this "Winter Palace."
The reason it looked so peaceful.
The reason those fragnted souls could quietly perform cleaning duties.
A large part of the reason was that they were the most stable batch of souls selected by The Order.
Most of them were ordinary people in life.
Farrs, rchants, servants.
Without too strong an obsession or too deep a grudge.
After death, they just wandered aimlessly.
Such souls.
Give them a stable environnt and so simple work.
And they would calm down.
Whereas those dangerous, unstable souls full of resentnt and madness.
Were placed on higher levels, guarded by more powerful knights.
This was indeed a massive undertaking.
And it had indeed been a huge help to Pavela.
As for how she finally got this stubborn, muscle-bound brute to stand up from the ground?
For a fellow like this, imrsed in his own world, it was clearly hopeless to expect him to understand equality.
Pavela used a very convoluted, sophistical logic.
She had looked down at Boria from above.
Coldly saying:
"Since you feel guilty, since you feel you failed to protect ."
"Then you shouldn't waste ti kneeling and weeping."
"Stand up."
"Stay by my side."
"Lift your heads and look at with your own eyes."
"Look at the princess you failed to protect, look at how I am now."
"Let this guilt torture your souls every minute and every second."
"This is the true punishnt."
"This is the true atonent."
This logic was actually quite bizarre and would probably be full of holes to a normal person.
But for this knight, imrsed in self-sacrifice and fanatical loyalty.
It was like a sudden enlightennt.
Like a divine oracle.
Boria was shocked at the ti.
He stood up, trembling.
An unprecedented light erupted from his eyes beneath the visor.
Then, he began to look at her with an expression that said, 'Her Highness is absolutely right, I will spend my whole life putting this into practice.'
And so, this scene ca to be.
Under his lead, a group of half-naked hunks stood tall, guarding her with burning gazes.
They had barely managed to establish a communicative posture.
Pavela pulled her thoughts away from the recent absurdity.
"By the way, Boria."
She spoke up.
"When I was outside the tower, I saw the souls embedded in the tower walls struggling frantically."
"They looked terrified."
"What exactly happened in this tower?"
Boria's pace remained steady.
"We were just about to report this to you, Your Highness."
His voice turned serious.
"There was a soul riot on the upper levels."
"It should be the fourth or fifth floor."
"Under the leadership of a powerful new soul, several extrely powerful and highly unstable souls broke through the containnt."
"They engaged in combat with The Order."
The destructive waves emitted by the collision of high-sequence Path of the Tower paths were transmitted down through the tower's structure.
"To the fragile souls on the lower floors and # Nоvеlight # outer walls, those waves are like the scent of a natural predator, which is why they had such an extre fear response."
Pavela raised an eyebrow slightly.
"A new soul? A riot?"
"Yes, Your Highness,"
Boria replied.
"The essence of the Path of the Tower is destruction and reconstruction. The more powerful the soul, the deeper the erosion, and the more they long to tear everything apart."
"Our containnt can suppress them for a ti, but it cannot forever erase their instincts."
"There will always be one or two troublemakers who want to challenge The Order."
"Especially the newcors; they often fail to recognize the situation."
Ahead, the stairs had co to an end.
There was a door.
A seemingly ordinary, sowhat heavy oak door.
Simple geotric patterns were carved into the door panels.
The door handle was brass.
It was already sowhat oxidized.
"But please rest assured."
"The Paranov Guard Knights will defend your peace to the death."
"Those petty scoundrels won't be able to stir up much trouble."
Boria stepped forward and pushed the door open.
"We've reached the second floor, Your Highness."
Pavela froze for a mont at the sight behind the door.
It was no longer a palace.
No longer a magnificent corridor.
No longer rooms with velvet carpets.
It was a battlefield.
The sky was leaden gray.
Heavy clouds hung low, as if they might crash down at any mont.
No sun, no moon, only a dim, suffocating light.
The ground was muddy.
Black mud mixed with rainwater and so more viscous liquid.
There were craters everywhere.
Craters of all sizes.
So were only as big as a washbasin, others as large as a house.
The edges of the craters were scorched black, still emitting faint wisps of smoke.
In the distance were ruined trenches.
Defensive fortifications made of wood and sandbags were now blown to bits.
Flags were still planted in so places.
But the flags had been burned down to stumps, swaying weakly in the wind.
Further away were the wrecks of chas.
Massive tal bodies lay in the mud.
So were cut in half at the waist, with the upper and lower bodies separated by over a dozen ters.
So had their chests pierced, leaving a gaping hole.
So had their heads sliced off, cockpits exposed and empty.
Pavela was all too familiar with this scene.
This truly was a place she wanted to forget even in her dreams.
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