Chapter 261
Her curiosity about him deepened.
There was something inexplicably tantalizing about him—a puzzle with pieces that didn’t quite fit. The harder she tried to make sense of him, the more the edges of her mind itched with frustration.
The corner of her lips curled into a smile—not out of amusement, but hunger. He was an enigma, and she couldn’t resist the urge to unravel him.
It wasn’t just curiosity anymore. It was obsession, a need that coiled deep in her chest like a restless serpent.
At this point, she had forgotten about her subordinates and how she appeared to them. Her calculating composure melted into raw exhilaration, the thrill of the hunt overtaking her entirely.
“Great… You’re probably the first one to make me bleed, no matter how insignificant it is.”
She trembled as she spoke, her voice shaky—not with fear, but with exhilaration. It was as though the promise of pain had awakened something primal within her. “I really want to torture you.” A menacing grin spread across her face, her eyes gleaming darkly.
The demons around her stiffened at her words. The captain’s twisted excitement unsettled even the hardened soldiers, though none dared to show their discomfort.
“You sure like to daydream,” Oliver replied nonchalantly. Then, he asked what had been on his mind. “How did you find me and arrange this ambush?”
“Oh?” Sera raised a brow. “So, you’re curious about it, after all.”
Her tone was light, almost teasing, but there was an edge of triumph in her voice—as if she had been waiting for him to ask.
Oliver remained silent, waiting for her to reveal the truth.
“Well, it’s not a big deal. A human intruder suddenly appearing out of nowhere in the city? It hardly takes a genius to figure out your next stop after rescuing those slaves.”
She smiled mysteriously.
The corners of her lips tugged upward in a slow, deliberate motion, her eyes glinting with the satisfaction of a predator explaining how it had cornered its prey.
“Initially, I assumed you were part of the rebels hiding in our land, but when we interrogated them, we realized you weren’t. You’re most likely a rogue. But that refined cloak and those eyes—you’re of noble lineage, aren’t you?”
Oliver stayed silent, shocked by how much she had deduced about him and his identity.
His breath caught for the briefest of moments. Her words were unnervingly accurate, each guess brushing dangerously close to the truth.
“So, it’s a guess of mine, but apparently, you were transported here by accident. The rebel forces usually aren’t reckless enough to rescue a few slaves and reveal themselves to us demons.”
Sera lowered her sword and continued. Her movements were casual, almost lazy, but her gaze remained razor-sharp, watching his every twitch.
“I’d say you’re quite naive and stupid. You didn’t weigh the consequences of your actions, which led us to locate you without even needing diviners. After that, it was easy to subdue the rebels in their hideout and use them to lure you out. They’re familiar with such terrains—like filthy rats.”
Oliver took a deep breath.
The weight of her words sank into him, heavy and unrelenting, dragging him down into his own thoughts.
So, that’s how it is.
This was something he had overlooked. It was his fault for recklessly tangling with the inquisitors to save a few humans.
Was it because of his conscience? Because he sympathized with other humans in worse conditions?
The questions swirled in his mind, like a slow-moving storm that wouldn’t dissipate.
He wondered if he could ever let go of such feelings or if they would eventually cause his demise.
Yet, for some reason, the little girl who had recently become his student came to mind. He felt he had made the right decision at that time.
Her face flickered in his thoughts—wide eyes filled with awe, determination etched into her young features. Somehow, she had become the symbol of the choices he could never bring himself to regret.
Even thinking about it logically, the girl had extraordinary espera talent. If he hadn’t saved her and let her die, such talent would have remained buried forever.
“How is it? Did that satisfy your curiosity?” she asked.
“Yes, it did. One more thing,” Oliver paused before adding, “How much did my previous attack damage you?”
Sera frowned. How much did she suffer?
Her fingers brushed against her side almost instinctively, where the faintest bruise had begun to form beneath her armor. She hid the motion, straightening herself with deliberate grace.
“I’d say it was barely decent—it did manage to counter my strike and push me back. What is this rapier technique called?” she asked, her tone curious.
Oliver told her the name, and they exchanged a few more questions and answers while the demons around them watched with dumbfounded expressions.
The soldiers fidgeted where they stood, their confusion palpable. To them, the sight of their captain in a civil conversation with their enemy was surreal, almost blasphemous.
They couldn’t understand why their captain was conversing so casually with the target they were supposed to capture.
Vasoth found it increasingly difficult to control his impatience at the human’s bold remarks and rude addressing of their captain. Finally, he couldn’t hold back and shouted,
“Presumptuous! Human, know your place! You are speaking to an Inquisitor—someone far above your filthy kind.”
The outburst shattered the tension, rippling through the crowd like a clap of thunder. All eyes turned toward Vasoth, some with approval, others with unease.
Oliver paused and glanced at the feminine-looking demon in the crowd. Tilting his head, he asked, “Aren’t you the one who ran when I sent your friend back to you?”
The question hit like a slap, sharp and humiliating. Vasoth’s eyes widened briefly before narrowing, his expression twisting in fury.
“You dare!” Vasoth’s face turned red with anger and humiliation. He prided himself on his wit, which had earned him a place among the inquisitors, even if his raw strength was lacking. To be looked down upon by a mere human child—no demon could tolerate such provocation.
It was a blow to his pride.
“To dare lay your filthy hands on an inquisitor—I’ll make you beg for death soon,” Vasoth spat in a sinister tone.
“Well, what can I do? He was so weak he died easily. Anyway, I did you a favor by exorcising him,” Oliver replied, his tone casual and laid-back.