Chapter 2 - Move. I’m from Volford...

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Arthur didn't need to think hard to grasp the system's true nature.

It was indeed evil.

Sacrificing living souls to summon creatures… it couldn't be the work of anyone but a devil. He suspected the source of this system might even be linked to something more infernal.

If he had been offered this choice a month ago,

No, even if just a few days earlier, he wouldn't have accepted it. He had always wanted strength, but never through such cruel means.

That was what his mother had taught him.

Protect the weak.

Always hold to chivalry.

But the Volford family didn't share those values.

They lived by a different creed:

Anything for power.

Arthur had always been too soft to fit into that mould. For him, the path his mother had shown him seemed more meaningful, a path of honour and compassion, of keeping one's head held high and chest full of pride from acts of chivalry.

The saviour, the hero of this unkind world. He wanted to be one.

An ideal of every human.

But maybe that had been naïve. The real world didn't work that way, and he had learned that lesson the most hard way possible.

He had paid dearly for clinging to those ideals.

Maybe, it wasn't his fate to play the role of a hero.

Now, he no longer wanted to be one, he no longer cared about glory or honour.

Revenge was all that mattered.

Maybe this was all just a devil's trick, to wait for him to hit rock bottom, suffer in rage, and then tempt him with the lure of power.

To use him.

"And he succeeded,"

He moved quietly through the narrow alleyways of Wallen City, a third-rate city in the far south of the human nation.

And why was he here?

Exactly for what Wallen City was infamous for:

Slaves.

Wallen was a hub for the underground market, where human and elf crime syndicates operated in the open. You could buy anything here, as long as you had the cash.

And slaves were part of that anything.

After the reforms of the revolutionary era, human-elf rights laws were strictly enforced, banning the slave trade across human and elven lands. But here in Wallen, those rules meant nothing.

Arthur's sole focus now was to get stronger. With his mana core destroyed and his body half-crippled, the sacrificial system was his only path forward.

But to use the system, he needed souls.

Dungeon raids were the most efficient way to gather them, but they were far too dangerous in his weakened state. So, he chose a different, more possible route.

"Hey, you crippled bastard! Where do you think you're going?"

The muscular man grinned, blocking the narrow path with his broad shoulders. A knife gleamed in his hand, and a few of his underlings flanked him, sneering as they closed in further.

The city of Wallen was full of thugs like these.

Normal citizens avoided it altogether, knowing that entering was a risk not worth taking. The deeper parts of the market were practically fortified, not to keep criminals out but to keep the law from getting in.

"Move. I'm from Volford," Arthur said, his words firm and his gaze sharp. "If you step aside now, you might save your head."

His words were met with a loud, mocking laugh. "You're from where? Volford? Do you even know what name you're trying to fake?"

Arthur stayed quiet, letting the man's laughter fade before he reached into one of the many pockets of his worn pants and pulled out a small card. Without a word, he tossed it at the thug's chest.

"What the—?" The thug's laughter halted as he grabbed the card and looked down. His eyes widened.

"Is that... the seal of Volford?" murmured one of the underlings.

"Man, that's the real deal!!" another underlings chipped in.

They exchanged uneasy looks before turning to their leader.

There was no mistaking it, the Volford seal was unmistakable, recognisable to anyone across the nation. Even a child would know its significance.

The seal held a unique magic pattern, nearly impossible to replicate.

And the thugs knew what crossing Volford meant.

"Who are you?" the muscular man asked his face hard, the cockiness from earlier all but gone. His tone now held a cautious edge.

"I got injured on a mission," Arthur replied, steady and cold. "But that's beside the point. You do know what it means to threaten anyone bearing the Volford name, right?"

The man's eyes narrowed, and he took a few steps back, clearing the way for Arthur. "We didn't recognize you, sir."

In truth, Arthur wasn't part of the Volford family anymore.

As far as they knew, he was supposed to be dead. And he intended to keep it that way. If these thugs had killed him, the family wouldn't have lifted a finger. A cripple had no place in the Volford line,

They'd sooner eliminate their own than harbour any kind of weakness.

That's how Volfords worked.

He wasn't a master of deception, but such near-death experiences had a way of sharpening one's confidence.

And for street thugs like these, self-preservation always came first.

Arthur moved forward, his steps casual until he stopped abruptly and turned back.

"What now?" The thug's voice was tense, suspicion lacing his tone.

"Do you know Enric?"

"Enric?" The muscular man seemed uncertain, but soon enough one of the underlings whispered in his ear, glancing warily at Arthur.

"That old slave trader, boss,"

The man's face twisted into a frown. "Why would you want to visit him, sir? I can point you to better traders if that's what you're after."

"No," Arthur said, pulling a small stack of cash from his pocket and pressing it into the man's hand. "Just lead the way."

There was a reason Arthur was so set on Enric, and he had no intention of wasting time.

*****

{A/N}

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