Chapter 43 Character
Everyone looked at each other, and the manager's face gradually became ugly.
Slaves were distinct from citizens, lacking personal freedom, unprotected by law, and forbidden from marrying citizens. Their descendants would all be slaves. According to the laws of the Silver Iris Empire, slavery was generally used as a form of punishment, second only to the death penalty in severity. Therefore, apart from the king and the courts, no one could convict a citizen of slavery.
While the written law stipulates this, there's plenty of room for covert manipulation. Human trafficking has become a crucial component of the empire's economy, and no one is innocent. However, while the existence of the Bloody Bazaar is an unspoken consensus among local authorities, it doesn't mean it can be openly exposed to the eyes of the Royal City Church—after all, they exist far beyond the system of profit distribution.
Seeing that no one spoke, the black-robed man took off his hood expressionlessly, revealing a young and handsome face: "For example, someone who suits the taste of the Glorious Church, a beautiful young man with blond hair and blue eyes?"
The other person had black hair and blue eyes, a stern face, and an aloof expression.
Someone murmured quietly, "Some customers have indeed ordered this type recently, and there are several high-quality ones..."
Then the guy was glared at by the manager for talking too much.
The narrow corridors of the dungeon were pitch black. The slaves who had suddenly gained their freedom were probably frightened out of their wits. No one dared to stick their heads out for the time being. All that remained was the thick smell of blood in the silence.
In the cramped dungeon, the air had grown damp at some point, and water was faintly seeping from the stone walls. The black-robed figure slowly narrowed his eyes, his shadow flickering behind him in the light of the coal lamp, seemingly alive. Then, he suddenly transformed into a puff of black mist and vanished from the spot. The steward and several attendants suddenly doubled over, clutching their mouths and noses in agony, water dripping down the cracks between their features.
boom--
The stone shattered very close to Nova, and his pupils shrank subconsciously, but the sharp fragments seemed to encounter an invisible barrier, stagnating and falling in front of his eyes.
The instigator was Seagod's High Priest, Sakken, who had sensed something was amiss and rushed back to the dungeon. He was oblivious to what was happening in the corner, while the black-robed figure seemed unconcerned with the plight of the people in the Crimson Bazaar.
The young man in black robes was fighting back and forth with the high priest of the Temple of the Sea God. The other party's figure was as erratic as a ghost, and the flashing spells were like an overwhelming wave, surging in the air, which made the professor's eyes shine.
"We should go."
Amidst the chaos, the professor had already seen ragged slaves desperately trying to escape, and then he caught the warning from the God's Blessed One. To be honest, he wanted to continue watching. This was the first time he had seen a warlock directly use spells to fight, it was quite strange.
However, the overall situation was more important, so the professor had to reluctantly leave the dungeon where the roaring sound continued. Little did he know that behind him, the man in black robe suddenly looked thoughtfully in the direction where the two of them left.
"…Azuka?"
…
The Crimson Bazaar trading area is divided into several levels. The highest level, the Gold Bazaar, has exclusive auctions, rare goods, and excellent confidentiality, serving the most distinguished customers. The lowest level, the Rusty Iron Bazaar, is the most ordinary black market. Whether you can find good goods depends entirely on your eyesight and luck.
"Put on this and put some paint on your face. It'll look more realistic this way."
In an inconspicuous corner of the Rusty Iron Market, the professor lifted up a piece of rag that he had found from somewhere and draped it over a person. The savior himself leaned back slightly in resistance, looking like he wanted to make some protest, but in the end he endured it and let the thing cover his shiny hair, looking like a cat with its paws wet.
The villain smeared dust on his face while picking on his face.
"Make your expression more pitiful, raise your eyebrows, tighten your inner corners, straighten your outer corners, and lift your upper eyelids—you are now a hapless person who escaped death from the clutches of human traffickers, not a high-functioning sociopath who is not very good at being a human being."
Azuka: “…”
I didn't quite understand what he said, but I guess it wasn't a good thing.
He was filled with anger and wiped his face calmly, then wiped the other person's cheek with his dusty fingers, leaving fingerprints.
"You didn't wipe it clean before." The man reminded gently and hypocritically.
As a result, the other party looked thoughtful. He first ruffled his hair, and then began to work on his clothes. Soon, he pulled them into a mess and looked extremely miserable and pitiful.
“…”
The one favored by God frowned slightly, pinched the collar that was almost pulled to the chest with his fingers, and pulled it up to cover the collarbone that showed a fragile curve, causing the other party to look at him in confusion.
"Don't ruin the folds of my disguised clothing," the professor scolded him rudely. His frown was oppressive, until the God-Favored One sighed in resignation. When he looked up again, his previous calm demeanor, unfazed by the wind and frost, and unperturbed by thunder, suddenly vanished.
When Miller finally found the disheveled Chosen One, he discovered that next to him was a blond boy who was trying to remain calm but showing a hint of fear and fatigue.
"The bald man who brought me here had a conflict with the virgin Etilo. Later, a man in black robes came and they fought and destroyed the entire dungeon. I took advantage of the chaos to escape. I was chased along the way, but it was Azuka, a warlock, who saved me."
He paused, then switched to a language no one present could understand and said something to the people around him. Seeing everyone staring at him in amazement, he explained expressionlessly, "He's a Karakite, not very fluent in the Common Language, and he was frightened. I told him not to be afraid."
The other person had originally buried his face deeply, hiding in the shadow of the chosen one, but he slowly raised his head after hearing the words.
The chosen one recounted his thrilling experiences dryly, but no one paid any attention. At this moment, almost everyone's attention was on the blond boy, especially when he revealed his beautiful face, which, even stained with dust, was a miracle of beauty—which seemed to reveal the reason for his presence.
The young man was probably a little nervous about being stared at, and he shrank back, gently pulling on the sleeve of the person next to him, without saying a word, relying entirely on the chosen one to help him explain.
"He is the son of a commoner. He took a cargo ship from Gray Bridge Port to Morris Port, but was kidnapped here secretly and then locked up in a dungeon." The black-haired young man stared at Bishop Lagasha behind Bishop Miller with cold and sharp eyes. He stared at the Bishop until he was sweating profusely, then he slowly looked away.
Bishop Miller narrowed his eyes calmly upon hearing this. The next moment, he revealed his usual faint smile. He first comforted the Chosen One who had narrowly escaped death, then pledged his assistance in thoroughly investigating the matter and seeking justice. Before that, he invited the two to return to the "absolutely safe" Church of Light to rest.
The Cardinal wanted to test "Azuka" a little more privately, but was stopped by Mr. Brody with a cold face, who seemed to be resentful of the misfortune he had experienced.
"I can speak Karak. If you want to ask him something, I can act as a translator." The black-haired young man stared at him warily. The pretty boy who was somewhat weak and blocked behind him probably had a fledgling effect on him. He seemed to have no objection to Mr. Brody's decision. Even after returning to the church, he followed him closely and entered the same room.
Some people couldn't help but start to make sarcastic remarks, saying that this freak was really lucky. First, he was looked at differently by the cardinal. Now, not only did he come back unharmed after being abducted by the pagans, but he even had a little beauty throwing herself into his arms - but they didn't know that the "little beauty" couldn't bear it anymore and threw the rags on her body to the ground as soon as she entered the room.
"Well done." The professor looked at him and praised calmly.
He couldn't understand the delicate and rich acting, but judging by Miller's reaction, he could tell he believed it about halfway. By the time he got to the Red Bazaar, he'd probably be pretty sure. After all, the Karak people were a notoriously nomadic people, their tangled history of migration and integration enough to drive any scholar mad. Someone with some free time once calculated that a Karak person would visit at least thirty-seven towns, large and small, in their lifetime.
No one could figure out where they came from.
The other man, who was carefully wiping his fingers, raised his eyes with a half-smile and switched to Natalinese speech: "After all, I was scared, wasn't I?"
The original plan was just to have the God-favored One appear at the big service tomorrow morning, but this person just gave him the character of a trembling little poor boy - it was really an... extremely novel experience.
The hot-blooded male protagonist of the youth comic, who was artificially assigned the role of a delicate little white flower, was shocked by this.
"...Being harmless is a form of protection, and it's the best solution at the moment," the man explained expressionlessly, then quickly changed the subject: "Do you want to shower first?"
After all, the other party was clearly a bit of a germaphobe - he never mentioned whether this was revenge for the dispute on the ship.
After a night of tossing and turning, the sky was already getting light. The God-Favored One looked at the man with an unfathomable expression for a while, and finally sighed helplessly: "You should take a shower first. After that, you can get some sleep."
The son of a viscount, brilliant and shipwrecked, yet a mere common man; the gentle, weak, young sorcerer, sold into slavery, yet possessing breathtaking beauty. Who is the chosen one? Time is running out, and the cardinal, whose authenticity is difficult to discern, will have both of them appear before the gods together.
"The soul fragments of the God of Lust and the God of the Sea reside in the believers. I once devoured the soul fragments of the two gods, but the believers were unaware. The priestess still tried to summon the God of Lust and received a response, which means that the god has more than one soul fragment, and there is a high probability that there is no resonance between the fragments... So, will it be the God of Light himself, or a larger soul fragment, that responds to the believers' summons tomorrow? I think the latter is more likely." Those smoky gray eyes stared at him, burning with something terrifying - it was an extremely fanatical curiosity, and a desire for knowledge at all costs to get the answer.
"I know I can devour the soul fragments of gods. You are the destined chosen one. If it is the true god that descends, we will wait and see. But if it is the soul fragment of the God of Light, I will... clear it for you." The final villain who had almost destroyed everything whispered, "No matter what, we will get an answer."
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