Chapter 287: The City Forged by Betrayal (4K Bonus 88 89)

Malagás Mór.

A dark elf city-state hidden deep within subterranean caverns of the Shadowed Regions.

At its core lies a network of obsidian spires like a spiderweb, spreading beneath a gloomy dome with an eerie order.

Yes, there is order here, and discipline is extremely strict.

Among the residents of the dark elf city-state, three types of people typically converge.

Foreign merchants, "No-Returners" hiding here to escape pursuit, and… slaves.

Dark elves are xenophobic, yet they do not refuse merchants' arrivals.

As long as you can outwit these treacherous, cunning bastards, you can earn substantial profits and their equally dangerous friendship.

It is truly dangerous here, but the profits are equally substantial.

Merchants chase profit, and many are willing to risk their lives for it.

Those merchants seeking sudden wealth bring rare treasures and supplies from all corners of the world, driven by greed and curiosity, stepping into this dark territory.

They trade with dark elves cautiously, each exchange like a probe at the edge between darkness and light.

Of these merchants, slave traders fare the best.

They can sell surface slaves at high prices and also buy slaves unique to the Shadowed Regions from the dark elves.

Buying and selling, double the profit—how delightful!

Next are the "No-Returners," those hiding here to evade pursuit.

"No-Returner," literally, a wanderer with no home.

Most are violent criminals who committed grave crimes or angered powerful factions, forced to flee to this forgotten corner of the world.

They eke out a miserable existence in the city's corners, ever alert for approaching pursuers.

To other cities, they are destabilizing elements to be eradicated, constantly watched by guards.

But to dark elves, they hope these bastards make mistakes, so they can justly capture them as slaves.

Yes.

And at the bottom, the most tragic of all, are the slaves.

Dark elves, who build their society on slavery, are exceptionally skilled at enslaving and torturing slaves.

Slaves, under dark elf command, perform all manner of grueling labor.

No dignity, no freedom—only silent endurance of fate's torment in darkness.

If lucky, one might be chosen by a dark elf as their "plaything."

If unlucky, one will still be chosen by a dark elf as their "plaything," ending their miserable life prematurely.

This city-state is like a vast stage, where three groups of differing fates intertwine into twisted, dark tales.

Of course, above all residents stands the city's true master—the dark elves.

For Malagás, that is the Mór family.

This ancient dark elf family has ruled here for thousands of years.

The Shadowed Regions are not inhabited solely by dark elves; other dangerous races dwell here too!

Eye tyrants, shadow dragons, underground dwarves… other races are equally formidable, possessing strength rivaling that of dark elves.

In the beginning, when defeated dark elves were exiled here, they united as one.

They drove out the original inhabitants and secured a foothold in this dark expanse.

But once settled, dark elf instincts drove them toward internal strife.

Dark elves are not a unified whole; their branches harbor bitter hatred, constantly wary of other clans—and even their own kin, who might betray them for power.

Thus, the dark elf clan alliance dissolved, scattering across the Shadowed Regions, occupying isolated territories.

Until a true "Psychic High Mother" emerges to command all dark elves, these bloodlines steeped in betrayal are doomed to fight alone, scattered across the Shadowed Regions.

The Mór family is one such clan; they came here and named it "Malagás Mór."

In Ancient Elvish, meaning "The Eternal Cage of the Shadow Weavers."

Frankly, the Mór family is not the strongest clan, nor the most deeply rooted, yet they have never been crushed.

Though their matriarchs have changed again and again, and betrayal's blades have pierced kin again and again, the Mór family still stands here.

They repelled other dangerous races seeking to destroy them, eventually securing this territory and firmly establishing their hold.

"Stronger through betrayal, eternal in shadow." This is the Mór family's clan maxim, their self-proclaimed source of strength.

To other races near Malagás, fear of them is deeply etched into their souls.

Thus, Malagás's law enforcement is surprisingly effective.

After all, few dare cause trouble under a ruler with such iron control.

…

Swish—crack!

The whip's crack shattered Teresa's daze, snapping her consciousness back to reality.

The guard captain, who lost an arm on the road, whipped with his left hand.

Crack!

"Move!"

But since he was unused to his left hand, his motion was clumsy, lacking its former ferocity, now bordering on absurd.

Some guards couldn't help snickering, their laughter blending into the slave crowd.

"Tch, damn it!"

The guard captain clearly knew everyone was laughing at him; his expression darkened further as he roared: "Hurry up! Don't dawdle!"

"We're entering the city to rest—don't think you're safe yet!"

He looked at the slaves' expressions, curled his lips, and then rubbed salt into their wounds: "You lot think it's over? You're thinking too much!"

"Not everyone can be lucky enough to stay here, hehehe… As for you, a large batch of you will be bought by buyers from other city-states."

The guard captain's words clearly stung some of the slaves, a hint of fear creeping into their expressions.

They didn't want to be slaves, but they wanted to die even less.

Although the dark elves were brutal and bloodthirsty, they at least didn't enjoy eating humans.

"No, no, no! You can't treat me like this! I have money! I really do have money!!!"

Just then, one of the slaves in the convoy suddenly shouted toward the merchant caravan master's carriage, trying to attract that person's attention this way.

Dragging his chains, he broke out of the line and shouted toward the carriage, and toward the dark elf city-state guard who was watching with amusement:

"It's true! I really have money! A lot, a lot of money!"

"Don't you want money? I can give it to you!!!"

This was a former slave merchant.

After being devoured by another merchant's caravan, he decisively chose to keep a low profile and mixed in among the slaves.

He knew all too well how other merchants would treat someone like him — nothing more than torturing him madly, squeezing out every last bit of value, then tossing him away.

He didn't want to die.

For this, he had endured the entire journey, only shouting out loud after arriving at the city-state.

If the caravan master was willing to cooperate, he was also willing to offer a hefty ransom in exchange for his freedom.

And if the other party wasn't willing, he could only pin his hopes on some other greedy fellow.

As long as the price was high enough, someone would surely be tempted!

The merchant shouted, trying to attract the attention of others in the city-state: "Five hundred gold coins! No, a thousand! Fifteen hundred gold coins!"

Finally, as if moved by his sincerity, the carriage curtain that had been silent the entire journey was slightly lifted at one corner.

Although the inside couldn't be seen clearly, it seemed to already prove the other party's intent.

The other party was interested!?

There's a chance!

There's an opportunity!

The merchant's expression jolted, and he continued raising the stakes: "As long as you can let me go, I'm willing to offer two thousand gold coins, plus an estate, plus…"

Whoosh—

A flash of light flew out from beneath the curtain, moving at extreme speed, reaching the merchant's eyes in an instant.

Pop.

The next moment, without any warning, accompanied by a soft sound, the slave's head burst open like a watermelon smashed on the ground.

Thud.

The man's headless body, still frozen in the posture of raising his bid, crashed heavily to the ground, the red and white matter from his head spilling all over the place.

The carriage curtain fell, and the person inside said nothing, as if they had merely crushed a bug in passing.

"Ah!"

"Aaaaa—"

Shouts of alarm rose abruptly; the slaves, frightened by this scene, instinctively backed away and looked fearfully at the carriage.

The scene before them reminded them once again that that one person was the true existence who could decide their life or death.

Terrifying beings like spellcasters had run rampant in this world for far too long, causing most living creatures to have their fear of spellcasters etched into their very bloodlines.

Even the gate guards who had been watching the show earlier put away their amused expressions and stared at the carriage with solemn faces.

The other party was actually a spellcaster, and possibly not a low-level one at that!

At least a mid-level, and very likely a high-level spellcaster!

And, most importantly of all — the other party could cast spells in the Underdark!

This meant that the person in the carriage was a native of the Underdark!

As the saying goes, a strong dragon cannot suppress a local snake.

But what if the strong dragon itself is a local snake?

The gate guards quickly made their judgment; after a perfunctory inspection, they voluntarily stepped aside.

And they even bowed slightly as the carriage passed, expressing their respect for the spellcaster.

Teresa witnessed all of this, had no particular thoughts about it, and merely numbly followed the convoy forward.

But Quinna, beside her, had furrowed her brow tightly when the caravan master cast the spell, as if suspecting something.

"This feeling… could it be that I guessed wrong earlier?"

Quinna's murmur reached Teresa's ears, but the village girl neither asked nor thought about it.

Teresa had already given up thinking.

After all, Quinna wouldn't explain anything to a clueless village girl like her.

Even that "knight" thing earlier hadn't been explained to her clearly, just left her stewing over it without saying a word.

The convoy passed through the gate, and the stench of the slave quarter was the first to invade their nostrils, making even the already filthy slaves wrinkle their noses.

Soon, they saw the source of the smell — a group of slaves of various races laboring.

The bronze collars on the underground orcs' necks clinked against the dwarves' shackles as they hunched over, hauling ore in the lava forge; falling half a step behind meant being seared with burn marks by the electrified iron whips in the overseers' hands.

Was that to be their future?

The slaves pondered, but quickly became numb again.

At this point, rather than thinking about it any longer, it was better to conserve some energy and rest well.

Teresa was also part of this numb crowd — until Quinna sought her out again.

The young girl's shoulders sank slightly. Queena brought her lips to the girl's ear and whispered, "The situation has changed. Be ready to leave with me at any time, and follow my instructions when the time comes."

Teresa: Huh?

What are you doing?

You could run before, so why are you only preparing to run now that you've entered the city?

The village girl did not understand.

Queena gripped Teresa's wrist, gave her fingers a slight flick, and the shackles—which had already been opened once before—were unlocked once again.

The woman who called herself a "Knight" did not explain much, merely saying in a low voice, "Ever since I walked into this city, I've had a very bad premonition."

"This place is probably even more depraved than I estimated before!"

She shook her head slightly, then asked with some hope, "By the way, can your eyes release that kind of spell again?"

"The kind that turned the Shadow Bat into stone. If you still can, our chances of escaping will be much greater!"

Teresa's reaction was—huh? Me?

Village girl confused. JPG

Wh-what spell?

What are you talking about?

……

……

Prison of No Light.

"Hmph, you've finally come! Let's go, you've already made me wait far too long!"

"Remember, it was you who insisted I accompany you, that's why I went…and not a single drop of that Holy Blood can be missing!"

Having said that, the vampire Young Lady lifted her chin and haughtily snorted, "You fellow—don't you know that keeping a lady waiting is terribly rude?"

"Rude?"

Herbert looked at Eliza, who was all dressed and ready to go, putting on a reluctant face yet with a faint glimmer of anticipation in her eyes, and suddenly smiled a strange smile.

Then he suddenly thrust his hand beneath her skirt and barked loudly, "What are you hiding in here? Out with it!"

Eliza:!?!?

"What are you doing!!?"

Eliza had not expected Herbert to launch such an unrefined surprise attack with no windup at all.

She tried to stop him, but the chain around her neck held her back; her whole body instantly froze, and she could only watch helplessly as Herbert seized the secret hidden beneath her skirt.

"Oh ho, so it's this kind of toy! You really can't tell at all."

Herbert pulled out a palm-sized maiden doll from beneath Eliza's skirt, glanced at it casually, then tossed it aside without a second thought.

"Still playing with this at your age?"

"Play if you want, but why bring it out with you? Tossed. No toys allowed when going out!"

Eliza:???

"Herbert! You!!?"

(End of chapter)