Date: Unspecified
Ti: Unspecified
Location: Myriad Realms, Card World, Southern Region, Blossom District, Three Mischief Encampnt
"Revenge? Hahaha... is that what all this is about?"
Hearing Peyote’s demands, Maestro Matteo burst into loud, almost hysterical laughter. Then his gaze settled on Peyote, as if looking at soone who should have died long ago, yet still stood before him.
"I know you. You’re that naive Cacteye brat the Devil rchant Code used to parade in front of . You think I killed your tribe? Think about it. It was the Devil rchant Code that made do it."
Peyote only sneered, not bothering to argue. If Maestro thought he could trap him with words, he was mistaken. Peyote had no real thoughts of revenge or vengeance—he was simply using it as a prop, bait to mislead Maestro and make his lie more convincing.
"You don’t believe ? Then tell —why do you think the Devil rchant Code chose you as its demon rchant at the exact mont I ca to your tribe to take you in as my disciple?
"I ca for you, knowing your potential, your prowess. Had you simply rejected , that would have been one thing. But you rejected and chose the Devil rchant Code instead. Don’t you know our two organizations are enemies?
"How could I knowingly allow the Devil rchant Code to tie such a talented seedling... and a renowned tribe of specialized warriors to itself—"
"So what you’re telling is that what you did was only natural, while what the Devil rchant Code did was deliberate? Aren’t you overestimating yourself, thinking it chose as a demon rchant just because you planned to take in as your disciple? It chose for my potential and talent—just as you did. The fact that you can see that tells exactly what kind of person you are. Slay was right. All of you Dark Cult bastards are delusional."
Peyote had no intention of arguing with Maestro, but the mont the man blad the Devil rchant Code for his tribe’s massacre, he couldn’t hold back.
Yes, the relationship between demon/devil rchants and the Devil rchant Code was chaotic—at tis it felt like a cannibalistic cycle of ruthless capitalism—but most rchants, especially those from the Dark Realm, still respected it. Through it, they were not only recognized but also freed from the tyranny of the blessed dark races. The Cacteyes had been one such tribe.
When the Devil rchant Code chose him as its demon rchant, the entire tribe had celebrated as one. For one of their own to be chosen ant the Code had acknowledged them. They were no longer nobodies scraping out a life in the desert at the foot of the Shrouded Hills, no longer at the rcy of nearby great families, clans, and factions. With the Code’s recognition, they could trade directly with it—so long as they could pay the price—and grow into a formidable tribe, one day ruling over all seven deserts beneath the shadow of the Shrouded Hills.
Unfortunately, they were destined to die before they could see those dreams fulfilled. Peyote held no notion of revenge, no thirst for vengeance. To him, the massacre of his tribe was simply another turn of society’s natural selection. They had survived the harshness of the desert, but not the shrewdness of the world beyond it.
He believed that if it hadn’t been those bandits, it would have been soone else. And now, knowing the bandits were in fact bounty hunters sent by Maestro Matteo, that belief only hardened.
"Kid, believe what you will, but that’s the truth. Your tribe was just one of many casualties in the long-standing struggle between the Devil rchant Code and the Dark Cults over talent."
"Then bla the Devil rchant Code for your missing disciple."
Peyote no longer let Maestro twist and distract him with words. He cut him off, cold and direct, reminding him that his beloved disciple was still in his grasp.
"Hahaha... I do. I bla the Devil rchant Code. Once this ordeal is over, I plan to sacrifice a thousand devil rchants. Now, let see my disciple. If he is still alive, I will not only give you the ten World Will Fragnts, but also kowtow before your tribe’s mass grave and beg for forgiveness."
"Do you take for a fool?" Peyote shot back. "It took considerable planning and resources to capture him while evading your Faith Order’s divination. What makes you think I would undo all that just to give you proof of life?
"How about this—consider the ten World Will Fragnts and you kowtowing before my tribe’s mass grave, begging for forgiveness as the price for to return your disciple’s complete body to you. What do you say?"
Maestro Matteo did not find Peyote’s words amusing. In an instant, the temperature across the divine dominion seed to drop by several degrees. Yet Peyote stood his ground, squaring up to him without hesitation. There was nothing in his posture that hinted at retreat. If anything, his defiance only deepened, the kind that made one wonder where such confidence ca from.
Maestro Matteo held himself in check, knowing full well that Peyote’s confidence ca from the leverage he held over him, his beloved disciple. With no better option, he relented, clinging to the fragile hope that the boy was still alive.
It had been a long ti since he had felt this kind of helplessness. The vulnerability sat uneasily on him, almost alien in its weight. But that did not an he did not know how to handle it. In a situation like this, there was only one course—play along.
He was not afraid of being deceived; what he feared was losing his disciple. With his strength, he could annihilate everyone and everything responsible for the boy’s death. But power ant little if the disciple was already gone. He would rather endure this in hope than face that bleak outco.
"Fine. et at your tribe’s mass grave. I’ll bring the ten World Will Fragnts and kowtow to their graves, begging for forgiveness. You’d better make sure my disciple is alive when you return him to . Otherwise, I’ll dig up their graves and deny them peace, even in death."
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