Zeke didn’t move or otherwise act. Judging solely by the look on his face or body language, one might even think he was completely calm. Yet, inwardly, he was anything but. His mind was racing.
Had he been discovered after all? It all made sense. This situation must have been a trap. Zeke had always felt that the entire thing had gone entirely too smoothly. However, before he could think of what he would do now, Ishaan made his move.
“All of you,” he said menacingly, “I order you to leave the Ritual circle right now.”
At the same time, the Archmage spoke up as well. “I order you to remain where you are.”
Zeke's mind blanked. What was this nonsense?
However, the purpose of the exercise revealed itself in the next moment when a handful of people stumbled out of the Ritual circle. The group of five had terrified expressions on their faces as they tried to fight against the mandate. However, it was no use. The slaves, despite being utterly horrified at their own actions, were unable to do anything to keep themselves from obeying.
Zeke realized the situation at once. Those five had pretended to agree to a transfer of contracts before deliberately messing up the Ritual. He wasn’t quite sure what they had hoped to gain from this small act of rebellion, but from the look in the Archmage’s eyes, they would pay dearly for it.
“Ishaan,” the man said in a low, sinister tone. “You know what to do...”
“Yes, sir!” Ishaan said, the joy clear in his eyes.
The Archmage then turned to the rest of the slaves. “Insubordination… will not be tolerated. If you knowingly disobey the orders of me or my men, there can only be a single punishment.”
Meanwhile, Ishaan had ordered the people in question to kneel. Because they were still contracted to him, they had no choice but to obey. Zeke saw the tears gather in the eyes of the first in line. He was a rough sort, with more than one scar on his face. Yet, at this moment, he looked as frightened as a child. Tears freely fell from his terrified eyes as he heard Ishaan's footsteps come to a halt behind him.
image [https://media.discordapp.net/attachments/1063583644020654080/1221818948170027018/78acbb64-3131-4641-976c-04a5b2ab8cd5_1.png?ex=6613f691&is=66018191&hm=ec7515a3d2bc376704b7cdece72e410b3d19d679c3ac32ad5bd11dba7a24af20&=&format=webp&quality=lossless&width=655&height=357]
Zeke grimaced. He could already tell what was going to happen. The same seemed to be true for the other slaves as they collectively averted their eyes.
“WATCH!” the Archmage roared.
As one, every single head snapped back to the scene in question. Just as the five kneeling slaves couldn’t disobey a direct command from Ishaan, the others were similarly compelled to heed the Archmage's orders.
Ishaan clearly relished the attention as he deliberately put on a show. He casually struck at the air with his whip, eliciting a loud crack with each swing. Zeke was no stranger to this sight, as the man had always used this type of weapon at the Lion’s Den.
However, the tool he used today was markedly different from that time. Instead of rope, the whip was made of countless interlocked bone fragments. Zeke belatedly realized that Ishaan must have used a spell to conjure it. As a Grand Mage with a Bone affinity, something like this should be possible for him.
He studied the weapon with an increasingly ugly expression. As somebody who also used a whip, he could immediately tell the primary function of this tool. Unlike his own weapon, which was designed for utility, Ishaan’s whip was made with a singular purpose — inflicting pain. The bone fragments would feel like teeth biting into flesh, while the many hooks and claws would ripp out chunks of meat with every swing.
The kneeling figures could not see what was happening behind them, but the frequent cracks of the whip combined with the horrified expression on the faces of the other slaves painted a clear picture. At this point, even the staunchest of the five had been reduced to a sobbing mess. Many among the spectators tried to close their eyes, not wanting to see this grisly scene. However, even that small mercy was denied to them, as the command had explicitly demanded they watch.
Finally, Ishaan was satisfied with his posturing and set on to his gruesome task. He wound up his strike even more than before and, with the force of a speeding horse, struck the first man on the back.
The result was even worse than Zeke had anticipated. This whip was no mere weapon but a living thing full of malice and cruelty. The man didn’t even cry out when he was struck; he just lay there, paralyzed from shock. He had only been hit a single time, yet his injuries were so severe that it looked like a feral beast had mauled him.
The cries only started when the second hit landed. It was a pitiful sound, devoid of any strength. Yet, the desperation and pain were perfectly conveyed through his quiet sobbing. Everyone present felt his agony echo in their very bones.
Zeke could hardly imagine what must have gone through the heads of the remaining four men at that very moment. The sheer terror and hopelessness of their current situation must have been beyond anything he could imagine, as they were left with no choice but to listen to the weakening cries of their comrade as they waited for the same fate to befall them.
Zeke was suddenly reminded of the day he had left the empire. He was reminded of the very moment the patriarchs came to arrest Maximilian. The reason he recalled that scene wasn’t because he deeply cared about those kneeling Chimeroi. After all, he had just met them, and their life and death had nothing to do with him.
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Yet, the situation felt eerily familiar.
Once more, he had to endure the helplessness of watching others do whatever they pleased, while he stood there, unable even to lift his head. Even though he wasn't the one currently suffering, he realized this could just as well have been his fate. Zeke had no illusions about his level of control; if the Archmage had singled him out instead of those five, he would be the one on the ground.
Ishaan only moved on to the next person when nothing but a twitching mess remained of the body of the first man. Zeke didn’t avert his eyes, didn’t flinch or sob. Instead, he burned this scene into his mind. This would become the fuel for his determination. This would be the scene he recalled if he were ever in doubt.
There could be no other way — power… at all cost.
His gaze briefly flicked to the Archmage, who was watching the gruesome display with a face full of indifference. It was immediately clear that this scene was nothing out of the ordinary for this person. After lingering on his expression for a moment, Zeke returned his attention to the scene of Ishaan beating slaves.
The interlude had lasted but a moment. Yet, something had changed in Zeke’s gaze. There was a determination there that had been absent all his life. It was a ruthless glint, a merciless light that had no place on the face of a boy his age.
When the last of the five fell quiet, Ishaan remained standing over their bleeding corpses, examining his handiwork. He didn’t even try to hide the immense pleasure he gained from this depraved act, as his face clearly displayed the utter exhilaration he felt.
After enjoying the sight for a moment, his eyes flicked to the group of slaves who had remained. His expression sent a shiver down the spine of everyone who saw it. There was a wistful light in his eyes as if he regretted that not more of them had disobeyed.
Not one of them dared stand out anymore.
Ever since the first of the slaves had died, the crowd had gone utterly silent. At one point, the dread they felt had overpowered their compassion, and nobody dared speak up out of fear of being singled out. The silent confrontation lasted until the Archmage clapped his hands, gathering everyone’s attention.
“It looks like you all understand. Now, let me tell you what is going to happen from now on. For the next week, you are going to be placed under the leadership of this man.” He pointed at Ishaan, and some of the slaves couldn't help but wince. However, instead of being offended, Ishaan’s grin only widened.
“After that, you are going to be joining us on a large-scale mission,” the Archmage continued. Zeke immediately took notice of his words. This so-called ‘large-scale mission’ was most likely the attack on the Lion’s Den. At least he knew how much time he had left.
“If you prove yourself during this time, you are going to receive everything you ever wanted — power, status, money, women, whatever it is. At that point, you’ll be fully recognized as a member of the Ember Scar Cartel,” the man promised. “There is only a single thing you have to do. Survive. The. Coming. Week.”
After saying those words, the Archmage briefly swept his gaze over the group of slaves before he turned and left. He vanished through the same entrance he had arrived from, disappearing just as fast as he had come.
Everything, from his speech to the scene of Ishaan killing those men, seemed to have been nothing but a routine task. From beginning to end, not once had even the tiniest flicker of emotion crossed his face. How many times had he witnessed this exact sight? How many times had he said those exact words? How many people had died in this exact manner? And how many more would follow?
“Listen up,” Ishaan yelled, causing the group of slaves to flinch. They suddenly remembered that they were alone with this crazed killer.
Zeke inwardly sneered. Out of the two, Ishaan was clearly the smaller threat. He was like a rabid dog who barely had any control over his actions. This was a lesser form of evil, relatively easier to deal with. Compared to the cold and calculating nature of the Archmage, Ishaan was like a child throwing a tantrum.
Nonetheless, easier didn’t mean easy, and Zeke still had to be careful not to stand out at the moment. However, unlike what they expected, Ishaan didn’t continue with this threatening behavior. Instead, he appeared quite amiable as he asked the group to follow him to the other side of the room. Even though most were hesitant to follow his orders, nobody dared delay for long.
“The next part of your training is going to take place in there,” Ishaan said, pointing at a hole in the ground that was covered by a sturdy metal grate. The opening was wide enough for a carriage to fit through. Zeke looked down, but the bottom could not be seen at all.
Seeing their fearful expressions, Ishaan smirked. “You guys worry too much. There is nothing bad down there. In fact, there isn’t much down there at all.”
“Then what are we going to do in there?” One of the more courageous slaves asked. He was a tall man with scales covering his vital parts.
“Training,” Ishaan replied readily. “Before you go down, I am going to teach you a Mana breathing technique. That way, you can strengthen yourself during the next week.”
An astonished murmur swept through the crowd. The Mana breathing technique was half the reason many of them had sold themselves in the first place. But now they were going to receive one — just like that. Of course, many were suspicious at first, but what reason could Ishaan have to lie to them? After all, they were already completely at his mercy. Quickly, smiles appeared on many faces.
Zeke frowned instead. He was certain that there was something sinister going on that he couldn’t see. There was just no way that the people of the cartel were handing out something so valuable for free. With these kinds of people, nothing good would ever come without a price. While everyone else celebrated, Zeke instead raised his guard.
“You said something strange earlier,” a woman remarked. “Your exact words were: before you go down; not: before we go down. Does that mean you are not going to join us in that hole?”
Zeke had also noticed how Ishaan had phrased his earlier statement and had the exact same question.
“That is indeed so,” Ishaan acknowledged. “I am merely going to deliver your daily rations while you train in peace. You are free to do what you want, and neither I nor anybody else is going to supervise you for the coming week.”
Zeke snorted in disdain. He wouldn’t believe for a second that the next week would be as peaceful as Ishaan made it out to be. Over and over, the words of the Archmage echoed in his mind.
“Survive. The. Coming. Week.”
Even before that, hadn’t the man ordered Ishaan to make sure that at least half of them would live? Upon remembering those words, his suspicion rose to a new level. No, something wasn’t adding up. However, the others didn’t seem to share his apprehension as they now crowded around Ishaan and pestered him to start teaching them the technique.
Zeke shook his head. He found these Chimeroi to be entirely too trusting. It was then that he remembered something he had almost forgotten. Their species aged substantially faster than humans. Studying the faces around him, he noticed that many looked to be around his own age. Zeke’s mind reeled. Ripper, who looked like a grown woman, was only 9 years old…
The realization that these people were essentially children cast this entire situation into an even darker light. All of a sudden, all he could see was a group of children getting excited about receiving a new toy.