The Crown Prince's eyes snapped open. What...?
Cold stone pressed against his back. His chest rose sharply as he sucked in a ragged breath, panic flooding him. He was alive. He could feel it. Pain scread through every inch of his body, but pain ant existence.
That shouldn't have been possible. He clearly rembered the scythe of blood. The mont it ca down. The absolute certainty of death.
A translucent blue panel flickered into existence in front of his eyes. It was a slave contract.
The Crown Prince looked up at Damon with an unreadable expression. "Don't look at ." Damon indifferently said.
"If it were up to , I would have already killed you and moved on, but unfortunately, your sister still loves you even after you tried to kill her twice. What can I say, she is an idiot, but she is my idiot, so I have to entertain her wishes. Sign this, and you will live. Don't sign it, and you will die. Those are your two options."
Damon absolutely hated doing this, but he simply couldn't ignore the woman crying her heart out a few feet away from him. What kind of husband would he be if he still killed this vermin?
Damon turned away again, clearly done with him. "Take your ti. You won't need much." He exhaled slowly, then waved his hand.
More translucent panels flashed into existence, dozens of them, each one hovering in front of the surviving C-rank experts scattered across the ruined hall. It would be easier to slaughter the whole bunch, but there were a lot of talented people all around him.
The nine hidden orders had grood these people for several decades, and it would be a waste to slaughter all of them, especially those who survived the first wave of attacks.
Damon was particularly interested in the puppeteers who excelled at creating golems. He was pretty sure that the genius golem craftsman ca from this order, but he did not have the ti at the mont to comb through this trash and pinpoint this single genius.
He decided it was best to give all of them a second chance. It would be up to them to decide if they want it or not.
Slave contracts flashed in front of the C ranks. Gasps rang out.
"Slave contracts...?"
"Is he serious?"
"After that, you expect us to-"
Damon's aura flared just a little. The voices died instantly. "I could kill all of you," he said calmly, as if stating a fact about the weather. "And honestly? That would be easier." Blood still dripped from the air around him, suspended like red mist.
"But you're useful," he continued. "The hidden orders spent decades grooming you. Training you. Sharpening you. Throwing resources at you." His eyes swept over them, cold and assessing. "It'd be a waste to throw that away."
Several of the C-ranks exchanged terrified glances. "I'm giving you a second chance," Damon said. "Not because you deserve it. Because it benefits ." He paused. "What you do with that chance is up to you."
So of the contracts trembled as hands reached out. Others hesitated, faces pale, eyes full of fear and hatred. Damon didn't rush them. He simply stood there, blood aura simring, waiting.
Behind him, Alzara watched in silence, tears still on her face, but relief slowly replacing despair. Even the Emperor looked shocked as he did not expect this developnt.
And on the ground, the Crown Prince stared at the contract in front of him, teeth clenched so hard they nearly cracked. Pride... or survival. He was not able to stomach this disgrace. Many of the Cranks gnashed their teeth with the sa emotion evident in their eyes.
Damon could only shrug at this. It looked like slaughter would be the way after all. He raised his hand, and the blood started to churn again, but right at this mont, a lodious laughter rang out, and a woman stepped forward, her figure dazzling amidst the ruins.
Her green hair fluttered like leaves caught in a gentle breeze as she stepped forward, bare feet never quite touching the blood-stained marble. Each step carried a faint ripple in the air. She looked exceedingly beautiful with her huge, voluptuous breasts, and there was a sort of mature aura about her. Her age only added to her allure.
"My, my," she laughed softly, her voice clear and lodious, completely at odds with the carnage around her. "To think I would arrive just in ti to witness sothing so... wonderful."
But no one in their right mind would think of her as a beautiful, soft woman because her eyes betrayed the thoughts in her head. She had the eyes of a crazy psycho, and there was an unmistakable glint of madness within them.
The woman's gaze swept across the shattered hall, over the corpses, and the kneeling survivors. There was no fear in her eyes, only curiosity and
amusent.
"So this is the Blood God everyone has been whispering about," she said, her erald eyes finally settling on Damon. "I was beginning to think the rumors were exaggerated."
The Emperor's pupils contracted. His hand twitched slightly, the instinct of a ruler who recognized a variable he hadn't accounted for. Both he and Alzara opened their mouths and shouted at the sa ti. "Blood God! That's the crazy witch Namina! Be careful!"
Namina laughed again, clearly delighted. "Oh my. I see my reputation is still intact." She placed a hand over her chest, feigning offense. "Crazy witch? That's
hurtful. I prefer the eccentric benefactor of natural order."
Several of the surviving C-ranks stiffened. Suddenly, they seed as if they preferred the bloodsucker over whatever that woman was.
"Now, where were we?" She turned her attention to Damon. "You want to be the new emperor of these endless sands? What a cute little vampire... Trying to gobble up more than you can swallow? Brat, you are not even old enough to stop sucking on my tits. Why so greedy?"
She licked her lips as she looked at Damon with lust-filled eyes, and at the sa ti, Damon felt an indescribable sense of danger.
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