241 Freedom? Love for Demons?
Chapter 241
Their captain, Captain Sera, was present in the town. He only needed to convey to her once he found the human invader; she would take care of him.
He didn’t doubt that the human invader was weaker than her; otherwise, he would not have needed to hide in this city.
‘The nerve… a human defiling our land,’ he muttered to himself. A vein popper on his calm face.
“Hmm, this is quite the predicament…”
Vasoth paid little attention to Drul’s death. To him, there was no particular relationship between them, nor were there any benefits to be shared.
Indeed, Drul’s death came as a shock to him, but that was the extent of it—a momentary shock.
He glanced at the corpse with mild distaste. ‘A waste of talent,’ he thought, but nothing more.
“S-Sir Inquisitor, this…” the merchant anxiously asked as he looked at the lifeless, tortured body of the other Inquisitor. He could now understand things subtly; this whole event to execute human slaves out of the blue, followed by this sudden death of an Inquisitor.
It was clear the Inquisitors were likely trying to find someone in the city.
And that someone was dangerous. To have killed an Inquisitor so boldly and thrown their body to a crowd was a daring move.
It was obvious the person was strong, given how brutally they had finished Drul. But what was more shocking was their boldness—killing an Inquisitor was a serious offense against demons.
The Inquisitors served directly under the Lords of Demons, and acting against them was akin to rebelling against a Demon Lord; such an act would bring severe consequences.
The Inquisitors were not feared for nothing. In fact, most demons would sooner betray their own kin than risk crossing one. Looking at Vasoth’s calm face, the merchant could tell that Drul’s death didn’t faze him much.
The demons in the crowd were whispering loudly, slowly and discreetly scattering. They all knew that a bloody battle could break out at any moment, and in the fights of the strong, weaklings were the first to perish.
The merchant was sweating bullets. He wanted to leave as quickly as the others but didn’t dare to in Vasoth’s presence.
‘Such chaos over one corpse,’ he thought, irritated by the crowd’s sudden weakness.
“It looks like the rat hunt will have to pause for now. The rat is not a rat, it seems,” Vasoth said clearly.
He didn’t look at the slaves and left directly. All the demons present were shocked.
Wasn’t this cowardly? Was the great Inquisitor scared?
Otherwise, why would he leave in such a hurry? Leaving behind the livestock and abandoning everything in the middle.
The merchant felt even more fear.
He, too, looked at the slaves but suddenly didn’t want to order his subordinates to drag them back.
After all, this entire ordeal had started with these slaves. Drul’s corpse was a chilling reminder of the consequences. Drul’s corpse was still fresh, a direct warning to them.
It was shameful to be so fearful of an unknown person, but he valued his life more. Even Vasoth, an Inquisitor, had left without saying anything, so no one could blame him.
Of course, no one would dare say anything to Vasoth’s face either.
“Wrap up! Everyone, go back to your homes. Sir Vasoth had something urgent come up,” the merchant announced without explaining further.
One of the demons, who appeared to be the master of one of the human slaves, asked from the crowd, “Can I take my slave back?”
The merchant halted, looked to see who had asked, then replied coldly, “Scram!”
There was reluctance among the demons in the crowd, unhappy to leave behind the slaves they had bought. But despite their unwillingness, no one voiced much objection.
The image of Drul’s brutally tortured corpse was still fresh in their minds, even after his body had been taken away by the guard demons.
Fear had cemented itself in the atmosphere, gripping the crowd like an iron chain. No one wanted to suffer such a fate, so one by one, they all left, abandoning the confused slaves.
The black-haired girl was also released by the guards, who shoved her away.
She stumbled forward but managed to balance herself. Her purple eyes reflected hatred for the demons, but at the same time, there was another emotion not present before.
It was admiration and desire.
She had witnessed everything, from the moment the Inquisitor’s body was sent flying at Vasoth to the point where Vasoth was forced to leave.
This feeling of victory, even though it did not belong to her, made her chest swell with heat. She felt tears in her eyes as she watched the demons who had always tortured them leave in fear.
Despite the mysterious person not showing his face for even a moment, all the demons present were afraid of him. His presence lingered in the air like an invisible shield over the slaves. Even the mighty Inquisitors, who were thought to be undefeatable, had been brought down by this person.
Such strength made her desire the freedom she dreamed of daily even more.
There were people strong enough to kill these Inquisitors. She wanted to be like that, too.
She wanted similar strength to protect herself and her kin, to protect herself, and to eradicate all demons from this world.
She looked around, hoping to catch sight of the mysterious person, but to no avail; all she saw were empty rooftops.
She clenched her fists and looked back at the other slaves, all of whom were in a state of confusion and anxiety, uncertain of what would happen to them now.
They didn’t know where to go, as all the demons—their owners—had abandoned them alone in the city square.
“W-What do we do now?”
“I don’t know…! We’re all alone in this place!”
“C-Could it be some sort of trick? To l-leave us alone and then suddenly kill us…?”
“I w-want to go back… My master left me alone… Where do I go?”
These slaves, whose mental states were fragile after enduring prolonged torture, were having panic attacks. They didn’t know where to go, fearing they might be killed if they tried to leave.
Their wills had been broken. Most of them had lost the strength to think independently.
Even though they had been tortured and treated harshly, they seemed to want to return to the way things were.
The chains may have fallen from their bodies, but not from their minds.
Stockholm Syndrome.
They were all suffering from this condition severely.
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