When Herbert arrived at the area where the slaves were being held, the commotion had already settled.
After a brief uproar, the place returned to its previous calm—well, relatively speaking.
Not completely silent, just lacking the full-throated wailing of Cyril.
Instead, there was the chaotic sound of whippings, along with so feeble cries of agony.
Snap! Snap! Snap!
"Ah! Cough! Ugh!?"
"No! Ah—"
"Ahhhhh!"
"Stop! Don’t hit anymore... Ah!!?"
However, this ti, it was the guards who were being whipped while hanging from iron chains, instead of the slaves.
The slaves who were once confined in cages had been released, turning into vengeful wraiths, fiercely tearing into the villains who had inflicted suffering upon them.
The torntors were bound and beca helpless victims.
Those who had been abused picked up whips, transforming into torntors... no, they were avengers.
The roles of attacker and defender had reversed.
The innocent gained weapons, and the wicked received punishnt.
Ignoring the bloody parts, it was a rather satisfying scene.
The only downside was that those being beaten clearly lacked the spirit, and their voices didn’t sound manly at all!
It’s no wonder they were cowardly and frightened—the vengeful wraiths looked truly terrifying.
Especially a few obese n, cackling madly as they whipped a headless, burly, emasculated body.
It wasn’t a bizarre scene, but Herbert took a few extra glances.
"Eh?"
Herbert couldn’t help but feel sothing was off, vaguely sensing that their walking posture seed a bit awkward...
Perhaps they had injured their feet or legs during the abuse?
Well, what else could it be?
It couldn’t possibly be that their rear ends were damaged, right?
"...Hiss, hard to say."
Herbert thought of so local s about must-eat lists and recalled hearing conversations about categorization, wiping his sweat silently.
"Ahem, who knows? Hmm, it’s none of my business."
Everyone, make sure to respect individual fetishes!
Don’t understand, but respect.
While Herbert stood there reflecting, his presence also caught the attention of so slaves.
"Hmm?"
"Soone’s coming!"
"Get ready to act!"
After being freed from the cages, a dozen strong slaves had stripped weapons and armor from the guards, divided them, and prepared to fight to the death with the slave rchants.
Sadly, there were too many people for too few resources, with three people sharing one sword, four sharing one shield, and one person getting a piece of leather armor to protect vital areas.
To prevent slave escapes, the camp had been set in a valley with only two exits.
One led into the Dark Territory, the other was the path to the outside world.
Since escaping was impossible, there was only a desperate struggle left.
If we don’t succeed, we’ll beco martyrs!
And now, at just the right mont, Herbert happened to appear in their sight as the first target.
The noble aura emanating from the white-haired boy, combined with his handso features... he didn’t seem mortal, more like a pure white Angel who had strayed here.
After the initial shock, the slaves realized—this boy certainly wasn’t a slave.
He either had to be a slave rchant or their lackey!
Regardless of his identity, appearing here ant he was their enemy.
"Kill him!"
"No! Capture him! Extract information from his mouth!"
"Yes! Take him alive!"
They charged at Herbert fiercely.
However, the slaves didn’t realize a critical fact.
By the ti they noticed Herbert, Herbert had already been observing them for quite a while.
"...Sigh."
These guys were skin and bones due to long-term starvation, with three of them not even weighing as much as two people, looking as if a gust of wind would knock them over.
Weak.
Too weak.
So weak that he didn’t dare fight back, fearing a gentle touch might directly kill them...
However, despite being undeniably a ragtag group of pushovers, there was also no doubt they were a group of desperados driven to the brink.
Desperate soldiers win.
With the will to survive, they might unleash more astonishing combat power than others!
Well... not that it would be of much use.
Even if their combat effectiveness doubled, they’d just barely reach the double digits.
With too small a base, even multiplication is aningless.
Going berserk is only useful when there’s not a huge disparity between the enemy and us, enough to knock the enemy down.
If the gap is too wide, all you can do is pray you’re a protagonist blessed by destiny with cheats.
Like having mastered a skill that grows exponentially, or possessing the special ability of a conceptual god... At worst, you could have joined a mysterious Sect capable of locking health or mana.
A tiny "ding" is all it takes.
"Ah, then let’s give it a little flick."
With that thought, Herbert shook his head, drew his Longsword slowly, and reflected.
Clang...
Herbert drawing his sword only confird the slaves’ suspicions, making them even more agitated as they charged at him with roars.
"He dares to draw his sword!?"
"He really is a slave rchant!!!"
"Capture him!!!"
"They’re the ones who’ve caused us so much misery!"
The vengeance-driven wraiths lost their reason, launching an attack on this strange young man.
This scene fell into the eyes of everyone present, so even turning away, closing their eyes in reluctance to watch.
"Sigh, it’s like this again."
In fact, not everyone thought about resisting after "hope" had appeared.
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