Van was then led to the dining table by Rika, feeling dizzy and weary.
'To think... I'd grow this weak... from crying too much... They really do know my weaknesses, huh...?' He thought, managing a weak chuckle as he sat down, a juicy steak placed before his groggy eyes.
"Are you... not eating with me...?" he asked weakly, noticing that Rika and Mika were just sitting beside him, watching intently without touching their food. His voice faded as his body felt heavier with each passing moment.
"No, we..."
"-are not hungry," they muttered reluctantly after exchanging a glance.
"I see... Then... I'll help myself..." he murmured, too weak to even lift his head. He gingerly picked up the fork and knife, cut a piece from the steak, and looked at it.
'It smells so good... Has anyone ever done something like this for me...?' he wondered. Then, a memory flashed through his mind—dining with Varlog and his family at his and his wife's 582nd anniversary.
"Ha... Ha..." He chuckled softly before eating the piece, savoring every chew and swallowing it, smiling at the memory.
'Why... Did I forget... I... t...'
After swallowing, he no longer had the strength to hold himself up and slumped onto the table. 'Haah... So... Tired...' he thought as his vision blurred.
Then, from the shadows, a snickering figure emerged.
"Hehehe... Good job..." A fat man appeared from behind Rika and Mika as they looked downward, a blank expression on their faces. "My little kittens~..." he leered.
'The... Fuck...' Van thought, his consciousness fading entirely.
Indeed, no matter how strong one is, vulnerability remains.
Van awoke groggily, a moment seeming to stretch. The first thing he saw was a dark circle drawn around his body in a red room. As he lifted his gaze, he noticed he was bound by black metal chains that dangled from the ceiling, his body forced into a kneeling position. Odd symbols and rune markings were inscribed all over his skin.
While Van was not deeply versed in the Arcane, he recognized these markings for what they were—potent magical and physical seals.
With his mind still clearing from the fog of unconsciousness, Van scanned his surroundings. He spotted a muscular orc, shirtless with a distinctive mark on his chest, standing nearby, eyeing him with a piercing gaze.
Van understood immediately—the mark was a slave mark. He met the orc's menacing look with a calm, weary gaze of his own, noting the slave branding iron staff in his hand.
"Oh, awake are we~... Mr. Hellix.." A lecherous voice echoed through the room from beside him. Van turned his head to see a corpulent man with a mustache seated on a plush velvet chair. Flanking him were Rika and Mika, scantily clad from the waist up, attending to him with feline-like affection, licking at his throat and face.
Van observed the scene impassively, his expression unreadable.
"Oh, like what you see, Mr. Hellix?" He taunted as he slammed his palms onto the butts of the two women, pulling them closer to himself. Van, however, offered no reaction.
The fat man's expression turned to one of frustration upon noticing Van's indifference. "Who are you?" Van asked calmly, his voice still hoarse from fainting.
"Hmph. I suppose introductions are in order. I am Salem Dyke... The Royal Capital's greatest Runemaster... And Shadow Lord," he proclaimed proudly, rising from his seat and approaching Van with a sneer.
'Shadow Lord... That explains their affiliation to him, I suppose,' Van reasoned internally.
"And right now," Salem continued, standing so close that his crotch was almost in Van's face—a show of blatant disrespect. Van continued to gaze into the man's eyes, his expression unchanging and blank.
"...you are going to be my personal slave. After Mutah here brands you with a high-quality slave mark that not even a mighty Dragon as Arutol himself could resist..."
"I see. I suppose those runes around me are to ensure that I can't resist or escape, huh?" Van commented dryly.
Salem clicked his tongue at Van's ambivalent response. "...I understand where your sense of assurance comes from, Mr. Hellix. We had you appraised by my trusted associate. Your high level of 207 and peak stats of 999 in Vigor, Strength, and Resistance are indeed terrifying—it actually killed the appraiser when he assessed your stats solely due to the magic it required." Salem explained.
'207...? Hm. My level increased quite a lot after killing that dragon...'
"...I instructed him to sacrifice his life essence to appraise you, so at least he got the job done before he croaked. Thanks to you, I have to find a new appraiser. One might say you are now stronger than your former best friend, Mr. Veil who, at his prime, reached the max level of 500, with his stats averaging over 800..." His eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the mention of the name as he began pacing back and forth.
"...Also considering you destroyed Arutol in a single strike... You are a force to be reckoned with," he added.
This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.
"But such strength... And your loathsome passive Untrusted must've been granted to you by our dear Goddess to balance a being such as yourself, giving you such a pathetic weakness..."
'Arutol... The Dragon's name, huh...? He knew I killed it? I guess that's the intelligence department for you.'
"...Such as the pathetic, fleeting warmth of a woman's touch." He concluded, his lips curling into a wicked smile, mirrored by the orc standing beside him.
Van glanced at the sisters, maintaining his gaze on them. Their expressions were blank as they stared back at him.
"Oh? Quite fond of these two, aren't you?" Salem mocked, noticing Van's focused attention. He walked toward the sisters again.
"My cute kittens, loyal to me for over 10 years now... Despite that, they even went out of their way to warn you when you first met them. Told you how you can still be caught off-guard, even with prowess like yours when I ordered them to seduce you as best as they could to catch you off your guard... Isn't that sweet?" He said, spreading his arms wide. Without a word, the sisters ran to his side, embracing him more intensely than they had embraced Van.
"They told me everything about you... Your weaknesses, how you pathetically donned your helmet to avoid seeing them with your best friend, how your friend took your dear little girlfriend... Everything. Aren't they loyal to their master, spilling these delicious secrets...?" He sneered, watching Van for any reaction.
Salem's frustration grew as he failed to elicit any response from the stoic Van.
He forced a chuckle.
"But seriously... your resistance was just too high. They had to drug you constantly for hours with the most potent sedatives, all magically enhanced. They've been doing that since you met today. No matter how high your resistance, constantly inhaling that drug was bound to take you down eventually."
"...I see," Van muttered blankly, his gaze dropping.
"I see? That's it!? Do you not grasp your situation!?" Salem snapped, his grip tightening on Mika and Rika's shoulders, causing them slight discomfort.
"Thanks to these runes, your colossal stats have been reduced to merely a fifth of their usual strength, AND THAT'S BEING RIDICULOUSLY GENEROUS!!! I METICULOUSLY PLANNED FOR YOU TO BARELY BE ALIVE WITH THOSE SEALS!!! And the resistance you need to resist the slave mark is 700! And after you're branded, even if you somehow break these runic seals, you will still bear the mark and be my slave FOREVER!! EVEN AFTER YOU DIE AND RESPAWN, SINCE THE SLAVE MARK BINDS ITSELF TO YOUR SOUL!!!" He shouted, his voice echoing with triumph and anger.
Van held Salem's gaze evenly.
"...Okay," he muttered nonchalantly.
"Tsk. I guess these kittens of mine broke your spirit to this extent, huh...? Do not worry. I shall 'discipline' them shortly~..." Salem said with a leer as he turned, Mika and Rika in his embrace, and began walking away.
"Mutah, brand him. After he's branded, you may do as you please with him as your reward. He shall be beneath you in the chain of command. His punishment for boring me," Salem instructed while walking away.
The towering orc smirked lecherously, the branding staff hovering an inch from Van's chest.
As Van observed the staff, he murmured calmly,
"Before you brand me..." His words caused Salem and Mutah to pause in their tracks.
"May I ask Mika and Rika one final question...?" he asked softly, yet with firmness. Mutah turned to Salem, seeking permission through a silent exchange of glances.
"...Whatever. I shall allow this as your last act as a free man," Salem conceded dismissively.
Van turned to Mika and Rika.
"Was... Anything of what you said... Or did... Was any of it... Genuine?" he asked, his voice low, eyes flickering with a mix of hope and resignation.
Salem chuckled darkly as he grasped their bare breasts. "Answer truthfully now," he commanded.
After a brief pause, they responded:
"No... None of what..."
"-We said..."
"-or did, was out of..."
"-concern for your..."
"-well-being."
"It was all for the sake of..."
"-our beloved husband..."
"-And master..."
"-Salem," they finished, clinging tightly to him.
Van took a moment to look at their bare chests, noting the absence of any slave mark that might compel their loyalty.
------Flashback------
"-You make our times better,"
"..Please don't leave," Rika mumbled as she embraced him tightly.
-----------------------------
"I understand... So, it was all an act. Alright," Van replied, his voice trailing off as he looked down.
"Heh. Carry on, Mutah," Salem instructed, signaling Mutah to proceed with the branding.
Van then looked to the ceiling.
"As I thought... Of course it was just that. After all..." Van murmured as the hot brand touched his skin. The orc snickered triumphantly as he applied the staff, embedding the seal onto Van's chest...
...But then the mark instantly dissipated into thin air.
"... I don't have a passive that makes you care about me," Van concluded, his tone melancholic yet empty.
"W-what!?" the orc exclaimed in confusion as the mark vanished immediately after it was placed.