After being "captured" by humans, Ronan found that his diet improved somewhat, as they threw raw meat into his cage once a day.
The gray-robed mage Ronan had saved earlier was injured and spent most of the time slumped over the back of a horse. The other mercenaries, despite their exhaustion, still had to rely on their own legs to walk.
Ronan mused that this world seemed to favor mages… After watching the Holy Knights and Lumen Mage fight up close, he finally understood the tone Kael had used when mentioning them.
These humans who wielded Light energy were indeed the nemesis of the demons. From the very source of their power, they were designed to counter demonic beings. He would have to avoid them in the future.
Three days later, the mercenaries finally reached the edge of the Black Forest and Ronan could hardly contain his excitement.
Ever since his reincarnation, he had been wandering within the forest, and now, he was finally about to leave. He wondered if he would get the chance to see more humans. If possible, the first thing he wanted to do was have a proper feast.
However… given the way the demon snake consumed food, even after a few days, he still hadn't gotten used to it. The thought diminished much of his excitement. As before, he had tried, but there was no way for him to leave this body. Did he really have to live until this demon snake reached the end of its life?
How long could the demon snake could live? A hundred years? No, that didn't seem right. These humans were planning to sell him. He should be more concerned about his future fate. And if he died, would he be able to live again?
Despite his experience of leaving the demon dog's body, he still couldn't shake his unease.
But for now, he had no better plan. Ronan decided to take things one step at a time.
As the wagon creaked and groaned its way out of the Black Forest, Ronan was eager to get a good look at the world beyond. But just as he was about to observe his surroundings, several mercenaries suddenly threw a large black cloth over the wagon.
The world instantly turned "dark." Ronan, still coiled inside the cage, could hear the growing sounds of people on both sides of the road. The mercenaries seemed to have entered some kind of town, and he could hear their conversations outside the wagon. Before long, the wagon came to a stop, and the mercenaries left.
Ronan slithered around in his cage, looking for any chance to escape. However, just as things quieted down, footsteps approached the wagon again. A few men came closer, and one of them lifted the black cloth, glancing inside with dissatisfaction. "Is this all you've got?"
"Ah, our mercenary group suffered greatly this time… It's because we ran into…" The mercenary group's steward quickly pulled the man aside to a corner of the courtyard, offering flattery and explaining the situation.
Ronan now had a clear view of the outside. The wagon had stopped in a small courtyard in front of a two-story wooden building. To both sides, there were wooden houses with people constantly going in and out.
This seemed like the back courtyard of some kind of shop. It wasn't long before the mercenary steward returned, directing the others to start unloading the wagon.
Ronan watched as the number of cages around him dwindled, yet his own was left behind. The black cloth was thrown back over him, and the wagon started moving again.
This time, it seemed the night had truly fallen. The wagon bumped along the stone road, and the surrounding voices grew sparse.
Ronan, for some reason, began to feel drowsy. He closed his eyes, his head nodding slightly as he drifted into a light sleep. Half-asleep, he vaguely sensed the black cloth being lifted once again. This time, standing outside was an elderly man with a kind, gentle face. The old man held an oil lamp in his hand, and the weak flame flickered as it neared the cage. Bending down, the man peered at Ronan with his cloudy eyes. Despite his appearance, the old man's voice was surprisingly sharp and grating. "For this thing and you're asking me for 2.000 Dalur?"
"This is a Najarala also known as the Golden Ringed Demon Snake—it's incredibly rare. If it bites someone, not even the Bishop could save them. We took a huge risk to catch it."
"Look at it!" The old man pulled out a long, thin stick and poked Ronan through the cage, grumbling in disdain, "It's all withered and weak. Looks like it's about to die."
Through the vision of the demon snake, the old man's figure appeared distorted, like looking at him through a magnifying glass, sometimes enlarging his face grotesquely. Ronan paid close attention to their conversation. After some back-and-forth haggling, he was finally sold for 800 Dalur.
The mercenaries took the cage off the wagon, and the old man hoisted Ronan up before turning to walk toward the wooden house.
Inside, the house was even darker than outside. After entering, the old man placed the oil lamp on the table.
Ronan, still in the cage, was set down on the floor. From inside the cage, he watched as the old man peered cautiously out the window, as if ensuring the mercenaries had left. Only when he was sure they were gone did he return to the table, feeling around for a chair before sitting down.
Ronan kept a close watch on him. In the darkness, the demon snake's vision remained clear.
After sitting for a while, the old man suddenly let out a chuckle.
That laugh sent a shiver down Ronan's spine. He couldn't understand why anyone would laugh like that to themselves.
He watched as the old man went to a cabinet and brought out a plate. On the plate was a long loaf of bread.