Chapter 239
Some slaves wailed, crawling forward and clasping their hands, pleading to the Inquisitor. "Mercy, please…! I've done nothing wrong!" they cried, only to be met with a dismissive wave or the taunting smile of the Inquisitor, who leaned back as if lounging in his own court.
Vasoth's eyes glistened with twisted delight, sweeping over the desperate faces below. He looked almost serene, his calm demeanor a terrifying contrast to the chaos around him. Now and then, he would beckon to the butcher demon with a lazy flick of his finger, signaling him to bring forth the next sacrifice.
The demons in the crowd watched, licking their lips, delighting in the spectacle. Some were shouting mock encouragements at the slaves, while others laughed cruelly as they watched humans who had once stood tall now grovel and debase themselves. It was a theater of humiliation and despair, crafted solely for their amusement.
