Chapter 126: Annabels Revenge
[Void POV] Year 5, Day 207
Then he felt an explosion — like the entire structure trembled, walls shaking and floor vibrating as if reality itself had taken a hit.
Sirens started blaring at full volume, the emergency protocol kicking in across the building.
Forcefields went up everywhere. The entire room split into security sections by defensive shielding, every wall covered as full lockdown engaged with maximum protection.
During the tremors and explosions, Void felt mana waves going through the air — so much raw power being used somewhere, definitely combat happening inside this same building.
It felt like S-rank monsters fighting, maybe something even worse. Whatever it was, it had to be pushing every security measure here to its absolute maximum, stressing the forcefields to their breaking point.
Then a security announcement boomed across the space. "Everyone please stay in your seats. There is fighting involving multiple S-rank combatants near the VIP area. Remain calm. Security is handling it."
The siren chimed again as the automated announcement repeated itself on insistent loop.
Void literally saw a crack form in the wall nearby. Spreading. Widening.
But it fixed right after — probably some enchantment or building-wide magic doing automatic self-repair without any visible effort.
[What the hell is happening? What kind of fight causes damage at this scale, and what level of power does someone need to push the building's defenses this hard?]
Then the tremors ended. Soon the sirens stopped too, the defensive forcefields turning off as shields lowered and security released its grip on the building.
The silence that followed was heavy and absolute.
Whatever had happened, whoever had fought — it was over now. Done.
Void looked around at faces full of confusion, fear, and morbid interest — everyone trying to process what had just happened, who had fought whom, and what could have caused that level of destruction.
Then he heard a broadcast — Drek the goblin's voice in professional informative mode.
"We just got news that there was a fight near the VIP area. It seems Aldric Razorclaw has been really busy on several fronts. His four maids just tried to kill him, which ended up in a fight with security forces."
Void's mind reeled at the announcement. [They did WHAT? Why here, of all places? Did they really want to die that badly? What kind of madness drove them to attack like that?]
The broadcast continued. "As per our initial reports, by some miracle it seems there were no deaths."
He paused before adding professionally. "There should be an official announcement in about 10 minutes with more details."
Void felt totally lost — confused beyond measure and unable to process what he'd just heard.
[All I did was talk with them, ask questions, help them see what Aldric had done. Nothing in our exchange suggested violence or hinted at an attack like this.]
[But I'd been thinking I was talking with normal people. Not suicidal survivors and broken victims, brainwashed by centuries of devotion — and apparently combat-capable enough to fight the entire security force for several minutes.]
The realization hit Void hard. [Their reasoning process probably wasn't anything close to what it looked like. Logic broken, responses unstable, the whole foundation collapsed long ago. I should have seen the danger sooner. Should have...]
He waited, with no options left and no understanding available — nothing to do but wait for the official announcement and whatever explanation it would bring.
Minutes passed slowly and heavily. The whole VIP area sat in shared shock, every eye locked on the displays.
Then the large broadcast hologram above the arena changed. Two people visible there.
Hob — and at least the pony he was riding now wasn't Kira. A different one this time, after some successful backstage swap that Void really didn't want to think about at all.
And Maximus next to him — the same lionkin security he'd met before. The Roar. Still imposing and powerful, but visibly battered now, the combat-worn evidence of what had just happened written across him.
Hob started. "Hello, this is Hob. And here with me is Maximus the Roar, head of security for today's event. Can you please explain what happened?"
Maximus spoke clearly despite visible exhaustion. "Four maids—Annabel, K1, K2, and K3—forced entry into Aldric Razorclaw's private room where he was resting. They immediately began torturing him, apparently planning to kill him."
He caught his breath before continuing. "We intervened to save his life and maintain public order. In the following combat, all four were captured."
A small flash of relief showed through. "Happily, no deaths among security personnel or bystanders. Several injuries, but everyone survived."
Maximus continued with the medical status. "Healers managed to save Aldric's life. Recovery will take time though—about 30-40% of his body weight was cut and removed during the torture."
He shook his head. "Only saving grace is they didn't use curses or permanent damage. Everything's fixable through healing. Just needs time and resources."
Hob added, "We also have recording of the incident. Quality may not be that good—it was made by the room's security device. It has no audio. Be warned, some of it is quite brutal."
Then the picture changed. Showing a large room from ceiling perspective. Aldric sleeping. Few more people in the room sitting. Peaceful. Calm.
Then the door literally blew off — an explosion of force and violence that tore it from its hinges.
Four maids entered with the fast coordination of a professional strike team.
They moved to Aldric. One dropped some kind of mobile forcefield generator and started pushing mana into it — building the barrier, strengthening it, containing them all inside.
The other three started torturing Aldric — cutting meat off and pulling bones out, a total butcher job done with clinical precision.
Aldric's mouth was visible opening and closing in screams the recording couldn't capture. Without audio, his agony was just a silent shape on the picture — mouth moving without sound.
All the people who'd been in the room ran out and fled, abandoning Aldric to his screaming fate.
Soon some security arrived, but they couldn't break the forcefield around Aldric — the barrier was too strong and too well-maintained, trapping him inside with the four maids.
More security arrived, throwing coordinated attacks at the forcefield in a professional response.
Aldric's body literally got smaller on the screen. Hands gone, then legs — he was being systematically dismantled piece by piece.
Then two more maids stopped torturing and started feeding mana into the forcefield. Three of them maintained the barrier now while only one continued the cutting and the systematic destruction of what was left of Aldric.
Finally, Maximus arrived. His first hit shattered the forcefield — though possibly it had already been on the edge given the pounding it had taken for so long.
First thing after that — Annabel used her whip, wrapped it around Maximus, and sent him flying through the wall. He was out of the room and gone, at least temporarily.
The room exploded into full combat. The picture actually disturbed a few times — probably too much mana in the air messing with the recording device, interference and overload making the feed stutter.
Aldric flew out of the room — probably air magic or psychokinetic extraction by security, removing him from the combat zone to save what was left of him.
The first maid went down when a magical net was thrown over her and electrocuted. She collapsed and was collared immediately.
Maximus returned and hit the second maid square in the face. Knocked out cold, with other guards collaring her while she was unconscious.
Annabel tried to use the whip again, but Maximus simply grabbed it and pulled her in. Then hit her and sent her flying like a ragdoll through the wall — outside the camera's view, also gone.
The fourth maid was taken down and collared soon after, ending the operation.
The picture switched back to Hob and Maximus in the broadcast booth.
Hob asked immediately, grinning. "So you got your ass kicked a bit there?"
Maximus actually laughed. "Well. Didn't expect them to come that hard. Those four knew exactly what they were doing — centuries of combat experience showing through. Proper training, real capability, genuinely dangerous opponents."
Hob waited a beat, then continued. "You also had another announcement to make?"
"Yes. Those four maids — as what they did was a crime, they'll have to pay for it. So the decision was made that all four will be sold as a package deal in the annual Merchant Guild Auction, including all the equipment they carry. They'll definitely be the main attraction."
He paused for the important clarification. "As special consideration, they will not be declared as criminal slaves. That label would make using them difficult — legal restrictions, social stigma, operational limitations all stacking up. But the sale contracts will probably carry some extra conditions: protective clauses for them and binding obligations on the buyer."
Hob sounded surprised. "All the legendary equipment too? Whips? Dresses? Everything?"
"Yes. It will probably be one of the most expensive sales ever recorded. They were really loaded with high-quality gear — centuries of accumulated equipment representing fortunes in magical items."
Hob laughed. "So you're giving us this recording for a reason. To increase the price? Free advertising?"
Maximus laughed too. "Maybe. Call it professional courtesy and market optimization rolled into one — everyone wins except the buyers' wallets."
Void stopped listening. Too much. They were making jokes about it now — betting pools on the auction price, comparisons to past sales, market speculation turning tragedy into entertainment.
The big hologram then showed the four being escorted away by an army of guards. All chained heavily, restrained and contained — but still moving with that perfect trained bearing somehow. Their grace held even through chains and defeat, even as they were marched toward slavery.
Then Void heard his name in the broadcast. Maximus was talking about him.
"For the reason of the attack—from what we hear from those four during initial interrogation—they made this decision after Mr. Void helped them see how badly Aldric Razorclaw had behaved toward them. He'd literally cut one of them's tail 10-plus times. Systematic torture and repeated abuse, cruelty beyond what most would believe."
He paused for the legal clarification. "But they were quite clear that Mr. Void didn't ask them to attack — didn't suggest it or encourage it in any way. The decision and the action belonged entirely to them. He just opened their eyes and gave them the understanding they'd been missing."
Hob added his commentary. "Well, we already established before that Aldric Razorclaw is a total piece of garbage. This just confirms it."
Maximus nodded. "Yes. And he really found a power couple to challenge. Master Void and his head maid Kira. Not the wisest choice."
After a beat he continued. "And well — elves have been historically good at manipulation. Targeting four already unstable women to go kill someone would probably be quite easy work for them."
He added the legal cover quickly. "Of course, I'm not saying he did it. Just observing, not accusing. If I were in their position though, I'd probably have killed this bastard long ago myself. Cutting beastkin tails like that should be a crime."
Hob agreed. "It IS a crime — even when done to slaves. Torture laws and beastkin cruelty provisions both apply. In the worst case, you may find yourself in chains for doing it. Aldric Razorclaw should face serious legal consequences for this."
Void stopped listening again. They were making more jokes now — about what an awesome elven master he was, supporting his maid in her revenge and standing up for abused beastkin. Elven hero, perfect master, the ideal employer everyone should aspire to work for.
[I didn't do anything. Just talked to them, asked questions, showed basic kindness. And now I'm responsible for sending four broken women to slavery — to auction, to being sold like property. Four lives destroyed and four futures ended because I couldn't keep my mouth shut and had to play savior...]
A small elven child approached his table — maybe seven or eight years old, excited and hopeful.
"Mr. Void! Can you please sign my hero sheet?"
Void looked at what the child held. Picture of Marlin. Elven ruler who'd killed billions in the name of elven supremacy. Got famous for being killed by a Divine Child who'd thought he was a daemon lord due to all the atrocities committed.
Elves mourned Marlin as a hero and martyr — they celebrated him, honored him, and taught their children to revere him as the highest example of their kind.
All the other races? NOT. They remembered the genocide — the systematic extinction attempts and the sheer scale of horror he'd inflicted.
It was a common custom for elven children to carry Marlin pictures and collect signatures from elves they thought were cool. Treated him like a sports idol or storybook hero, signatures as proof of brushing against greatness.
[I just became this small elven boy's idol by sending four broken women to slavery. Actually I didn't — but the boy thinks I did, celebrates it, wants my signature as proof of connection to heroism.]
Void just signed the paper. No need to ruin the kid's day or destroy innocent joy by explaining the complicated truth behind what he'd actually done.
The kid bowed excitedly and ran back to his table to show off the new signature — to his parents and anyone else who'd look. Proud and innocent in a way only a child could be.
Void looked around. Only one elven family here with a child. There were some more elves visible, but no other kids. So hopefully no more Marlin pictures coming his way, no more idol worship to navigate.
Void felt himself begging silently. [Please. Please let the name removal ceremony be canceled soon — let them announce it and let us teleport home so this day can finally end. I'm sick of all of this. Sick of Central, sick of consequences, sick of everything.]
He just wanted to go home — back to Borderwatch and the simple business of managing the establishment without becoming an accidental elven hero, without destroying lives through casual kindness or putting his signature on genocide-celebration pictures.
[Please. Just let me escape this nightmare of success and consequence and manipulation that I never wanted in the first place.]