Chapter 240
The next slave was dragged forward, and as the butcher demon’s knife glinted in the torchlight, the Inquisitor leaned forward slightly, just enough to ensure the girl could see his eyes. “Pay attention, little one,” he whispered, his voice as smooth and chilling as ice, “because this is only the beginning.”
He smiled slowly, his gaze piercing through the crowd, feeding on the fear that had locked their tongues. “Then bring me the next one,” he said softly, but his voice echoed across the square, slicing through their hearts. The butcher demon dragged a sobbing boy forward, a child barely in his teens, whose wide, terror-stricken eyes darted around, pleading for someone, anyone, to intervene.
The laughter of the demons reached a fever pitch as they took in the child’s small, shaking frame. Some even mocked him openly. “Oh, poor thing, will he even scream loud enough?” one jeered, while another demon called, “Better practice begging, little one. Maybe they’ll let you go!”
The child’s screams as he was pushed to his knees were muffled by the din of laughter. His small hands shook as he lifted them in a futile attempt to shield himself from the butcher demon’s blade.
His cries mingled with the steady chant of the demons as they cheered for more blood, their voices blending into a horrifying symphony of cruelty.
“Dispose of him,” Vasoth said lazily to the butcher demon. The crowd of slaves recoiled, the small moment of hope slipping away as quickly as it had appeared.
The boy was shoved to his knees, his face dull and ghastly, and he looked directly at the blade with an expression that embodied fear itself.
The little girl shook slightly in anger, her strained eyes not wanting to watch her own kin being executed at a demon’s whim. Yet, she felt restrained and could only watch amidst the mocking laughter filling her ears.
She gritted her teeth as she watched the butcher prepare the sharp, long tool while restraining the boy on the execution device.
Swish!
The butcher demon raised his axe, ready to strike the screaming boy.
She wanted to close her eyes, but each time she tried, the merchant would yank her hair with force.
Just as the butcher was about to behead the boy, a loud sound echoed across the surroundings.
It was a booming sound.
Vasoth abruptly turned his head to the west, and as he did, he saw a shadowy object flying towards him at terrifying speed.
Boom!
Vasoth stretched his palm forward, and a translucent gray barrier appeared, covering him. The shadowy object collided with the barrier and fell to the ground before him.
All the demons and slaves alike, stunned by the sudden interruption, turned their heads towards the object that had struck Vasoth’s barrier.
Vasoth looked down, his pupils dilating as he recognized the ‘thing’ lying at his feet.
“Drul…” he whispered in an eerie voice as he observed the bloody corpse of his comrade.
It was a sight that left him speechless—a twisted, brutal mockery of his former ally.
It was the lifeless body of the Inquisitor Drul, the red-haired brutal demon from before.
The condition of the corpse was beyond imagination.
The body was missing limbs, with visible holes in various parts.
Both his yellow, sandy eyes were gouged out and missing, as if someone had forcefully extracted them.
The most noticeable feature was the corpse’s chest, where a gaping hole was visible—a void where his heart should have been, allowing anyone to see the ground through the empty cavity.
It was clear that Drul had been tortured and brutally killed; there was no doubt. The sinister removal of the eyes and heart sent chills through the hearts of those close to Vasoth, who looked at Drul’s body.
A hush fell over the crowd as they absorbed the horror of what lay before them. Even the most hardened demons felt a prickle of fear run down their spines.
Vasoth wore a serious expression, the atmosphere around him dark and eerie.
This was a scenario he had never anticipated. Drul, his companion who had come to the city with him, now lay dead before his eyes.
Vasoth knew better than anyone present how powerful Drul had been. Even he was unsure he could defeat Drul one-sidedly, much less leave him in such a state.
He glanced once more at the tattered body of the demon inquisitor and felt a deep sense of unease.
Drul belonged to a prestigious family of demons known for their berserk and violent nature—a bloodline feared throughout the demon lands. He was physically superior to most demons of his level, thanks to his excellent inherited genes.
He possessed multiple abilities and had a high affinity with the sand element. Cornering him would not have been easy.
Not to mention, he also had a special trump card. Yet, despite all this, Drul had died so miserably—a troubling sign.
This meant the enemy had completely overpowered Drul.
How one-sided it must have been… Drul’s unique eyes should have bought him time to distract the enemy and escape.
Those eyes were an inheritance from his forefathers, and even against higher-level demons, they should have worked for a moment or two, giving Drul enough time to use his artifacts to flee.
But the result was before him—his eyes gouged out. The enemy must have taken them.
“Such arrogance…” Vasoth muttered under his breath, his jaw clenched.
“Hahaha…” Vasoth’s features distorted as an ugly expression twisted his beautiful face, a shiver running through him.
The fact that Drul’s body had been thrown at him must have been intentional.
What was the human intruder trying to convey?
Vasoth turned and glanced at the confused, fearful slaves, his gaze becoming subtle and a bit colder.
He understood the message. Leave the slaves, or he would meet a similar fate.
However…
The human was clearly underestimating them.
A cruel smile spread across his face.
Trying to threaten him in his own domain? What a fool. Vasoth would make sure he regretted it.
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