Chapter 39 : Chapter 39
Chapter 39: Slave Traders
Time, on the Wailing Wastes, was both the most worthless and the most precious thing.
Two months passed in the blink of an eye.
For those noble ladies enjoying afternoon tea at Valerius Fortress, this was merely the interval between one ball and the next hunting season.
But for the City of Miracles, two months was enough to turn the world upside down.
The city walls had been completely closed off. The fifteen-meter-high structure of packed earth mixed with stone, though crude, was enough to intimidate any who might covet it.
Inside the city, neatly planned streets, rows of newly built stone and timber houses, iron forges belching black smoke, and a bustling central square had elevated this place beyond the realm of a camp, truly giving it the embryonic form of a city.
Top floor of the lord's manor, Caesar slowly opened his eyes from meditation.
A wisp of black-gold Battle Energy coiled and spiraled around his fingertip, ultimately transforming into a miniature dragon before reluctantly dissipating into the air.
His aura was several times more robust than it had been two months ago.
The energy from the Crag Lizard's Magic Core had exceeded all imagination. With the system's assistance and the domineering absorption of his dragonkin bloodline, he had not only stabilized his realm but had charged straight to the mid-stage of Grand Knight in one go.
Now, he had absolute confidence that if he faced an assassin at Reaper's level again, he could twist off their head within three moves.
“ROAR—!”
From outside the window came a roar as deep as muffled thunder.
Caesar walked to the window and looked down.
The massive courtyard behind the lord's manor had been converted into an exclusive training ground.
Three Shadow-Marked Wolves, each the size of an adult calf, had formed a triangular formation, pinning down a Black Dragon Guard soldier wielding a great axe.
They were no longer the three fluffy wolf cubs from before. Their strength had already reached the peak of First-Order Magical Beasts.
Caesar glanced once and lost interest.
His gaze turned toward his consciousness space.
There, a colossal creature was lazily sprawled out, napping.
Nero.
In just two months, this black dragon hatchling's body had inflated like a balloon to nearly the size of a small carriage.
It was covered entirely in scales as smooth and hard as obsidian. Atop its head, two imposing dragon horns had already broken through the skin.
This Third-Order Magical Beast was consuming Caesar's stockpile at a visibly rapid rate.
Suddenly, Nero seemed uncomfortable in its sleep and yawned.
“Whoosh—”
A small plume of orange-red flame carrying the scent of sulfur spurted uncontrollably from its nostrils, heating the rock it used for sharpening its claws until it glowed red-hot.
Nero jolted awake from the heat, all drowsiness gone.
It curiously tilted its massive head, looking utterly confused.
Caesar watched this scene, a trace of envy he himself hadn't even noticed showing in his eyes.
Just then, a series of urgent, panicked footsteps came from downstairs.
Immediately after, a Dragon's Fang scout covered in blood burst through the lord's manor doors. One of his arms was twisted at a grotesque angle, white bone fragments protruding through the flesh.
He rushed into the courtyard, saw Caesar at the top floor window, and used his last ounce of strength to shout hoarsely.
“My lord! West…… west side! Direction of Grayrock Town…… it's…… it's slave traders!”
“They…… they have over a hundred slaves with them, and they're slaughtering…… slaughtering everyone who resists!”
After roaring out this sentence, the scout could hold on no longer and collapsed face-first onto the ground, unconscious.
The courtyard fell instantly silent.
Slave traders!
Those four words struck like a heavy hammer, slamming hard into the hearts of everyone who had escaped from Grayrock Town.
They knew all too well what that meant—chains, whips, despair, and death.
Caesar's face turned cold in an instant.
He leaped down from the window. From a height of over ten meters, he descended like a feather, his feet landing lightly without making the slightest sound.
“Anna!”
Caesar roared without turning his head.
Soon, Anneliya emerged with two women carrying a medical kit.
Three months had passed, and she was no longer that pale, fragile noble lady. Her eyes had become calm and resolute as she efficiently directed the women to lift the scout onto a stretcher, her movements orderly and practiced.
“My lord, it's Bloody Hand's people.”
Roland had appeared at Caesar's side at some point. He looked at the blurred bloody handprint on the scout's back, his voice ice-cold.
“The most rampant slave trader gang in this area. Their leader goes by the nickname Butcher—a ruthless official Knight.”
Barrett also came over, his single eye flashing with murderous intent.
“Fuck! Those bastards actually dare to run wild on our turf! My lord, give the order! I'll take the brothers and chop them down!”
Caesar stood up. He didn't respond to Barrett's shouting but instead looked toward Thomas and the others who had just been conferred as captains.
They had also rushed over upon hearing the news, their faces showing the same anger and a hint of…… fear.
Caesar didn't acknowledge the five men's expressions. Instead, he turned around to face all the guards who had gathered in the courtyard upon hearing the commotion. His voice wasn't loud, yet it reached every corner.
“Just now, a group of trash calling themselves Bloody Hand is at our doorstep, slaughtering our people, selling them like livestock.”
“They think this is still that forgotten wasteland.”
“They don't know that this place now bears the name Valerius!”
“Roland! Barrett!”
“Thomas, Peter, Sam, Matthew, Colin!”
“Here!”
Seven voices roared in unison.
“You five, immediately rally your squads! All Black Dragon Guards, full armor and weapons! Assemble at the city gate in ten minutes!”
“I don't care if they're Bloody Hand or Bloody Foot! Anyone who dares reach into my bowl, I'll chop off their claws!”
Caesar's voice was decisive and final.
“They want slaves? Then I'll turn them into the foundation stones of my city!”
“Today, let all the scum on this wasteland see what happens when you touch my people!”
The moment his words fell, the entire courtyard erupted!
“ROAR!”
Thomas was the first to charge toward the barracks with bloodshot eyes. He didn't even use the door—he kicked straight through the wooden wall of his squad's barracks.
“First Squad bastards! Get your asses up right now! Someone's killing our brothers and sisters at our doorstep! Grab your weapons! We're taking them down!”
“Second Squad! Assemble!”
“Third Squad! Take up your swords!”
The newly appointed captains used the crudest yet most direct language, roaring out their orders.
Those soldiers who had just been training—their eyes changed instantly.
Rage, fury, and a flame called belonging ignited in their hearts.
The friction of armor plates, the hum of weapons being drawn, heavy breathing—in the shortest time possible, they merged into a steel torrent that made hearts tremble.
Ten minutes later, at the city gate.
Two hundred Black Dragon Guards had assembled.
They wore uniform black leather armor and wielded swords polished to a gleaming shine. Though their formation was still somewhat immature, every single pair of eyes burned with bloodthirsty light.
This was their first battle.
For themselves, for their people, and for this city that had brought them food, dignity, and strength.
Caesar mounted a tall warhorse and looked coldly at this army that belonged to him.
He drew his longsword and pointed it westward.
“Move out!”
“KILL!”
The roar of two hundred men coalesced into a single word, shooting toward the sky as if to tear apart the clouds on the horizon.
Killing intent was the best whetstone.
Today, Caesar would use the blood of slave traders to give his Black Dragon Guard its edge!