The World Is Mine For The Taking

Chapter 960 - 147 - Battle On The Slave Market (2)

Artemis, Aegis, and I—along with a ragged line of others—pushed deeper into the complex. The fourth level loomed ahead, its entrance swallowing the light and spitting back the metallic scent of old blood and oil. My pulse thrummed against my teeth; this was where things could get messy.

The instant I put a foot over the threshold, a hail of arrows screamed at us. They came in tight, ruthless lines, black points glittering for a heartbeat before they dove. I didn’t hesitate—Guardian flared into being, a halo of shimmering force that slammed into the volley and chewed it apart. Arrows met an invisible wall and exploded in twinkling shards; none of them reached us. The sound of impact was a dry drumbeat that echoed down the corridor.

I shoved Aegis forward with a quick motion. "Go," I barked, stepping aside. She darted to a pillar, sliding into shadow as if she’d grown there, finding the one blind spot where Guardian wouldn’t block her shots. She crouched, bow already nocked, eyes cold and steady. From behind, Artemis gave me a curt nod—an electric confirmation that made my bones relax a fraction. I smiled; for now, it looked like we had this under control. Plans had shifted, yes, but the pieces still moved where I wanted them to.

Somewhere deeper inside, a voice snapped orders like a whip: "Kill them! Don’t you dare let anyone live!" Desperation flavored the shout—business owners protecting what little power they had left. Pitiful, considering how hard they’d bulldozed others to keep it.

Aegis let loose a string of arrows. Each shot cut clean and true, plucking armored men from the dark. These guards moved with the rigid efficiency of training; their armor clinked and flexed differently from the lower-level trash. Their stance said they were a cut above the usual dregs. Still—skill only goes so far when it meets intent. We had more of that. They were good, sure, but not good enough.

When their initial barrage died down, Artemis and I surged. I drew Ayuru and spun, a wide arc that carved through three guards in a single, savage sweep. The blade sang as it moved; metal met flesh with a wet tearing sound. The three of them toppled in a grotesque ballet—their upper halves slipping away as if some cruel seam had been pulled. Their screams split the air, ragged and stunned, and I let them taste that pain. Patricia had warned us these were the ruthless ones: people who worked slaves until bones broke and hearts stopped. Mercy wasn’t an option. They’d taken dignity from others; I wanted them to lose it too.

Around us, the enslaved people within cages started to stir with something fiercer than hope—anger. Even barred, they fought. Hands jabbed through the gaps, claws and fingers snatching at armor, jerking guards close enough to choke. A pair of hands would latch on a throat; a sling of a limb would twist, and a seasoned fighter nearby would take advantage. Their rage was messy and blunt, but it worked. They weren’t content to watch their oppressors go unpunished.

A new voice cut through the cacophony—low, amused. "Well, well... it seems there are people brave enough to storm this place. I see now—it’s you, huh?"

I turned and froze. The woman who stepped forward was a mountain of muscle wrapped in dark skin, a cruel, beautiful thing. Two massive horns jutted from her forehead like broken spires; long red hair fell over broad shoulders. Veins throbbed along her arms, corded and fierce. She had that bull-like presence—solid, relentless, and terrifyingly alive. Up close, the light kissed the ridges of her muscles and made her look like a living statue forged for war.

"You’ve got guts, kid," she rumbled, amusement edged with danger. "And those women with you too... elves, huh? Haven’t seen any of your kind in a while. Is the era of war coming back? If so, count me in."

She cracked her knuckles as if flexing a promise to break skulls. It made her look ready to smash anything that moved. I couldn’t help wondering how someone like her ended up caged on the fourth level—she belonged higher, in places meant for the truly dangerous.

"I’ll lend you a hand. That alright with you, human boy?" she asked, a smirk pulling one side of her mouth.

"If that’s what you want, then I’ll back you," I said without thinking. Her presence made the air feel thicker, like the world had tilted slightly toward violence.

I sliced through the bars of her cage with Ayuru—steel whispering, metal giving like old leather. She stepped out, stretching as though she’d only been waking from a nap. "You cut through that like butter... even though it’s supposed to hold someone like me? You’re interesting, human boy. Now—how should I kill these bastards who dared capture me while I was napping?"

She’d been napping when captured. I blinked. The idea of this horned juggernaut being taken asleep was absurd—but it fit her, somehow: so powerful she could be careless.

She didn’t wait for an answer. She charged, and the corridor turned into a battering ram of bone and fury. Guards met her shoulder and bounced as if against an immovable wall. Blades glanced harmlessly off her, and the shouts around her curdled into a nervous, fearful silence. I watched her shove a man into a stone wall like an annoyance; his armor caved inward and he slumped, surprised by how little resistance she’d given. What was she made of—granite? Steel? A living siege engine?

"Leon," Han’s voice called from the rear, sharp but practical. "They can handle this here. Why don’t we push on to the fifth level?"

"Alright," I said, breath even, nodding. "Artemis—can you hold things down here?"

"Yup. Go ahead, Leon," she answered, quick and certain. There was a knowing in her tone—an acknowledgment of something I hadn’t said: I might be on the lookout for another recruit for my...circle. She didn’t scold or pry. She simply trusted the choice.

I smiled, a small thing, and turned toward the stairwell. The fifth level waited below, darker and thicker with promise. We moved on.