Chapter 174 Grievances

Talon's face turned pale.

As a Saint, he understood the terror of gods better than anyone else, not to mention that he was merely a Saint who had been forcibly "ripened." Even standing before this being, he felt like an ant trembling before a hurricane.

The young prince of the Alan tribe still lay in a cowardly state at the feet of the unbeliever beside the god, his limbs abnormally stiff, like a sheep with its throat cut and blood drained. But the young man's face, mostly covered in blood and mud, still showed the joy of being saved and the extreme, murderous rage.

Kill them, kill those insects that offend the dignity of the Alan royal family. The little prince gasped for breath mixed with blood foam, and stretched out his trembling finger in the direction of the only hope of the Alan tribe.

"Slave of Samuel, the god of night and death."

The golden-haired god lowered his eyes indifferently, gazing at the bloody skin on the little prince's arm. Even so, the mark of the Dark Night God's seal could still be clearly seen. This kind of thing didn't just grow on the skin; it would carve into the flesh, blend into the bone marrow, and penetrate deep into the soul.

Talon was silent, his fingers twitching and shaking under the cover of his robe.

Of the two princes of the Alan tribe, the elder, Nit, was a complete fool, with a high opinion of himself, and he often mocked him, so much so that King Charon, in a rage, publicly scolded his eldest son, saying that he had choked on amniotic fluid and had damaged his brain. The younger, Hadi, while violent and impulsive, was fortunately intelligent and respectful enough to listen to him.

King Charon was old, and might not even survive this spring. His youngest son, whom he most favored, could not die here. The royal relatives and other tribes of the Gray Alliance watched him like hyenas, ready to pounce and bite at any moment. The revenge of Silver Iris hung like a sword overhead.

Becoming a Saint by force was not without cost. From the moment he became a Saint, his soul was in constant, agonizing pain, and it only grew more intense. Talon didn't know how much longer he could live. After his death, the eldest prince, Nito, alone would not be able to protect Alan.

——So he had to escape from here at the feet of a god with the little prince of the Alan tribe.

Darkness suddenly enveloped the entire alley, followed by a sudden burst of dazzling light. The professor subconsciously took a step back, his eyes covered by his hands, his back banged against his chest, and the wind howled in his ears, but behind him was the master of the storm.

When everything calmed down, Nova blinked and pulled the hand away from his face. The darkness had completely dissipated, and the alley was in a mess, with bricks and stones destroyed and walls collapsed, as if something had exploded.

"Teleportation scroll?" The professor raised an eyebrow.

Logically speaking, this thing is very precious, at least he had never seen it before the shipwreck. Even though he wanted to find one to disassemble and study, he was racking his brains but still couldn't find it - but since he has been with the male protagonist, he has become as common as cabbage. Is this also part of the protagonist's halo?

"That's right." The other man, unaware of his inner criticism, reached out to straighten his enemy's collar and said calmly, "After this battle, Talon must be more seriously injured."

That guy's essence was like a crudely made balloon, and his strength was not as good as that of a normal saint. He wouldn't even live for long - perhaps this was why he didn't have the seal of the God of Night.

"I won't die for now. I have control over him. Besides, he has the power of the God of Night." Seeing the man frowning and staring at him, Azuka smiled slightly. "Please rest assured, I will not disobey your orders."

He simply wanted to teach the other person a lesson.

The alley outside began to become noisy, and the people in the Rusty Iron Market, startled by the huge noise, began to rush here. The professor glanced at the savior with a gentle smile, suddenly picked up a dirty cloak that had been discarded by someone, and covered the person's head with it without hesitation, and smeared mud on his face and body. The two of them immediately became embarrassed, and then grabbed the other person's wrist and started running out of the alley.

Before she could object, the princess was caught off guard by the muddy water that stained her hair, clothes, and cheeks: "..."

What a... familiar scene.

Suspicious individuals in filthy cloaks were seen running furiously, followed by thugs chasing them, knocking over countless stalls and drawing curses and screams. Seeing the breathing of those around him grow increasingly ragged and heavy, their steps gradually slowing, Azuka sighed silently. Then, suddenly, Nova felt his feet lighten, as if an invisible current of air were dragging him along, pulling him, and his body suddenly became lighter.

Without the burden of physical strength, relying on his previous survey and understanding of the entire market terrain, the black-haired young man grabbed his companion's hand and quickly shook off the pursuers through twists and turns. However, the Rusty Iron Market was so small that several times those ferocious thugs almost grabbed the hems of their clothes.

"It's a runaway slave!"

Someone noticed the shackles on the professor's wrists and started shouting loudly. More and more people came to show their hostility until they had almost run through the entire Rusty Iron Market. Finally, they were forced into a dead end. The miserable black-haired slave showed despair on his face and blocked his companion behind him. The thugs who saw the other's appearance immediately showed a hideous smile full of sticky malice.

He spat on the ground and gestured at the man with the cold tip of his knife: "What? Are you so eager to find someone to fuck you?"

A voice suddenly interrupted: "This is my master's slave."

A tall, brown-haired young man stood between them, a massive black blood mark covering most of his handsome face. Normally, for a slave with such good looks, slave traders would find another part of their body to mark with the black blood mark, rather than resorting to such... extreme humiliation.

All the thugs looked at each other in confusion: "Greven?"

One person frowned and asked, "When did Lord Red Snake take in these two slaves?"

"They are newly acquired today. Their master values ​​them very much." The young man named Greven turned around and glanced at them, as if to confirm their identities.

At that moment, the man hiding behind the black-haired slave raised his head slightly, revealing half of his face. Greven's body stiffened almost imperceptibly for a moment, but his voice remained unchanged, steady and powerful, and very convincing. "I will take them back. All punishments will be decided by the master. But if you hurt them, given the master's temper, I'm afraid..."

The thug from before was still unwilling to give in: "How could Lord Red Snake's slave suddenly run out on his own and cause such a big commotion?"

Greven suddenly hissed, shook his head, and pointed at the weapons in their hands. Recalling the "Dagger," who had always been at odds with Red Snake, everyone immediately understood and glanced at Greven with gratitude.

Small minions like them don't want to get involved in the open and secret struggles at this level.

After relaxing, the thugs continued to swear: "Then you have to keep a close eye on them, otherwise, by the time Lord Red Snake returns, they will probably have been -"

"Of course." Greven remained calm, then coldly ordered the two, "What are you standing there for? If you don't want to die, come with me."

The professor narrowed his eyes and stared at the brown-haired young man's back. Without even turning his head, he stood in front of them, but uttered a barely audible "Don't be afraid."

...found it.

He tightly grasped the wrist of the person next to him, and could clearly feel that this guy's patience seemed to be reaching its limit, perhaps because of his mysophobia.

After many twists and turns, they were finally led into the dungeon where the slaves were held. The slave named Greven pointed coldly at an open cell and said, "Go in. If you don't want to be whipped, then behave yourself."

The professor honestly dragged the man into the cell: "Red Snake intends to send us to the Gold Bazaar."

Greven glanced at them: "...I know."

You can tell just by looking at the face.

"I advise you to behave yourself and not act recklessly based on the value of this face," he warned coldly, "Lord Red Snake has a bad temper. There are many tortures here that do not hurt people."

After Greven left, Nova finally let go of the wrist of the person next to him and quickly pulled off the tattered cloak, revealing the other person's face, which was still astonishingly beautiful even though it was a little dirty, like a broken statue collapsed in the mud.

The statue was staring at him with a half-smile, its soft, radiant golden hair caked with a layer of mud, a truly shocking sight of such waste. The professor silently reached out and quickly wiped the mud off his face with his thumb—it wouldn't come off, it was completely dry, and instead left a gray mark on his fair skin.

"I'm sorry." He apologized quickly and expressionlessly. "But I'll ask you to be patient for a moment. I'm sure Greven will come to see us tonight."

The man stared at him intently for a moment, then sighed softly, his eyelashes trembling and drooping helplessly, looking completely aggrieved. "I gave you my clean cloak, and you threw that dirty, muddy rag on my head."

The professor was silent for a moment, a rare moment of guilt in his eyes. "...I'm sorry, but this is a necessary sacrifice."

The enemy was indeed powerful enough, constantly challenging his understanding. Perhaps he could single-handedly destroy the entire Port of Morris, even threaten the Empire and slaughter the royal family, nobles, and clergy—but that would completely defeat his original intention. How would it be any different from those absurd attempts to "create a god"? Creating a new god, a symbol of "resistance and change," that the oppressed would fervently believe in?

God is human, and God will die. Looking back at the history of millions of years of ruthless roars and rages, if we only rely on a powerful, individual "God", we will never be able to create an era that belongs only to mankind. In the end, everything can only rely on mankind itself.

Then Azuka saw his old enemy think for a moment, then twirled his hair hesitantly, "Shall I help you wash it afterward?"

You have to deal with the consequences of your own actions.

"Really? Thank you." The Savior replied immediately, agreeing so quickly that he looked like he had been expecting this.

professor:"……"

He stared at the man's gentle and sincere eyes with suspicion, always feeling that something was wrong, and his back was filled with goosebumps, but he couldn't find any mistakes.