Chapter 43
Chapter 43
“And on top of that, you’re saying you’re one of the so-called ‘Children of Alzarith’ you were rambling on about earlier?”
“I’m not from the same generation as the Hero. There were plenty of Alzariths like me.”
“Do I look like a fool? You really think I wouldn’t know you journeyed alongside the Hero? Don’t insult my intelligence.”
“… Tch.”
Lawrence clicked his tongue and scratched his head roughly. With his shaggy beard and wild hair, he looked even more like a mountain bandit.
“What happened to you? Even if you weren’t from the Hero’s generation, you were still one of the chosen Children of Alzarith. Then you suddenly disappeared, and now here you are in Inphetera, of all places, with a fugitive like Sylvanas.”
“I’ve got no reason to explain myself to the likes of you.”
“You don’t think Sylvanas has already spilled everything?”
At Lombard’s jeer, Lawrence let out a derisive snort. “He wouldn’t talk even if you tore his mouth open.”
“How loyal. So you did help him escape, didn’t you?”
“Who cares? I just didn’t have the heart to refuse a favor from a lost pup.”
“Lawrence, that’s called helping.”
“Shut up. A mercenary taking a job and there’s nothing strange about that.”
“And what did you receive in return?”
“…”
Lawrence clammed up, and Lombard burst out laughing.
“Don’t tell me… you’re getting paid after the fact? Hah! Unbelievable. You look like you crawled out of a ditch and now you’ve gone completely mad. Sylvanas is a high-profile criminal wanted by the Temple.”
“…Shut it.”
“You think the Empire and Alzahar chase people for no reason? You’ve roamed the world so long your brain’s gone soft.”
Lombard’s mocking only intensified, but Lawrence fell silent. It felt odd to see him close his mouth for once. Up until now, he hadn’t stopped talking for a moment.
‘Come to think of it… considering what he said to Sylvanas and now this, Lawrence must hold some kind of grudge against the Temple.’
Enough to help someone branded a criminal by them.
[“Never get involved with Alzahar. No matter what.”]
When he said it, his expression had been deadly serious.
“Recently, the Temple has branded Sylvanas a heretic and announced a generous reward for anyone who captures him alive.”
“A heretic? Ha! There’s no one more devout than that man. Have they lost their minds? Who would believe such nonsense?”
“Well, people like me must believe it otherwise we wouldn’t be hunting him down like this.”
“No, you’re not believing, it’s just the money that blinds you.”
With a dry laugh, Lawrence threw me carelessly onto the dusty sofa in the corner.
“Cough! Cough!”
The dust was so thick it triggered a fit of coughing the moment I hit the seat. Tears welled in my eyes before the coughing finally subsided. Unbothered, Lawrence strolled to a cabinet, pulled out a bottle of liquor, and drank straight from it without asking.
He looked like the chieftain of a mountain bandit gang, effortlessly wild and untamed.
“Isn’t it time you gave this up, Lawrence? Keep going like this and you’ll even end up wanted by Alzahar.”
Lombard now called him by name with oddly familiar ease.
“Why don’t you mind your own business for once?”
With that, Lawrence flung the empty bottle through the open doorway. Glass shattered with a loud crash and curses echoed from outside, but no one came in. Even with Lawrence’s outburst, Lombard didn’t flinch.
“Well, now that Sylvanas is in my hands, I guess you’ll stop scurrying around like a rat.”
“Lombard. A man needs to know his place. You really think Alzahar will reward you for bringing Sylvanas in?”
“…”
“They’d never let someone live after speaking with a heretic like him.”
“Oh? Are you worried about me?”
Lawrence, rummaging through another drawer for more liquor, let out another mocking laugh.
“Why the hell would I worry about you?”
“You bastard.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Lombard tossed another bottle from beneath his desk and crossed his arms.
“Get lost. I’ve got no interest in you.”
Lawrence caught the bottle, glanced briefly at me, then shrugged.
Wait, no. He’s not abandoning me here, is he?
But he didn’t turn around. As he uncorked the bottle and walked off, my heart sank.
‘Was our heartfelt conversation in the cell already forgotten? What about our budding friendship?’
I watched him with hope, hoping he’d look back just once but he never did. Just as Lombard said, Lawrence truly was a bastard.
“Heh… what an expression. You really thought that guy would save you, didn’t you?”
Sadly, I had.
“When he came to me, you weren’t with him. So I guess you met him later at that cabin. Abandoned by your parents, were you? Then I suppose Sylvanas took pity on you again.”
He was spot on. It was disturbingly accurate as if he’d watched it unfold.
“Lawrence doesn’t normally show sympathy, not even for kids. So if he said anything to you, it was probably just to ease his conscience.”
He wasn’t giving me advice so I’d survive the harsh world?
“And besides, kid, I really like your eyes.”
My heart was still boiling over with betrayal, but his sudden focus on me jolted me to attention. I remembered what Lawrence said about losing my eyes.
‘No way!’
I even recalled the moment I heard that staring too long at Regnator could rot your retinas. I slammed my eyes shut and covered them with my hands.
“Haha! Adorable. But just so you know, that won’t save your eyeballs. Might lose your hands too.”
Savage monster!
I pouted, peeking through my fingers with the saddest expression I could muster but it didn’t faze Lombard.
“I’m the head of a slave-trading syndicate here in Inphetera. Blue eyes like yours are rare. And those sky-colored eyes were only owned by the Hero. You’ll fetch quite the price.”
Just like I feared, he was a human trafficker. Thankfully, it wasn’t organ trafficking or anything more horrific.
‘Still, slavery is nothing to be thankful for.’
Maybe I was so braced for the worst that this felt almost… manageable by comparison.
“With your black hair, your value has already been doubled.”
“…”
“Inpheterans like you are prized by slave traders. That demonic black hair drives collectors crazy.”
“…”
“Maybe I should sell you to one of them… or hand you over to Alzahar along with Sylvanas, saying you’re the Hero’s child.”
I don’t want either. I just want to go back to Lucifer.
“Still… as Lawrence said, I doubt the Hero ever strayed from the Saint. But… you really do resemble Arthur.”
With his arms folded, Lombard studied me with quiet intensity. The way he stared was unsettling like how Sylvanas had once looked at me in the cabin. With a little luck, maybe my cute and lovable face would inspire him to just let me go.
“What connection do you have with Arthur? How can someone look so alike?”
Because I’m his daughter.
“Did he really have a child with someone else…”
Sorry, Dad, but I had no desire to clear that up. Lombard narrowed his eyes, scanning me up and down. I might’ve opened up to Sylvanas… but not this man.
“You’re really… three years old?”
Thump.
Lawrence and Sylvanas hadn’t questioned it. But Lombard was the first to. If he found out the truth, he’d sell me for an unimaginable price. Thankfully, he shook his head.
“There’s no way that body is just a year old. Tch… Whatever. I’ll treat you well for now since you’re far too valuable. I wouldn’t want to damage the merchandise.”
He turned away from me, likely planning to lock me up in this stone house. I rushed toward him and grabbed his coat.
“My… my puppy!”
If he promised to treat me gently, then at least I wasn’t going to die. But now I worried for Derion, my sweet pup.
I clenched my tiny fists and glared up at him. Give him back! Now!
“Hm… you mean that dog you were holding? Looked like it was dying, so I tossed it.”
What did you just say?!
“I threw it to the monsters for food. It’s probably nothing but scraps now.”
Thud.
It felt like my heart hit the ground. My lips trembled at the unbearable words. I could still feel Derion’s soft fur… and yet Lombard spoke of his death as casually as snapping a flower’s stem.
Not a peaceful death either. In fact, he said my puppy was fed to monsters.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
My heart thundered violently, like lightning had struck inside my chest. The pounding was deafening.
‘No. That can’t be true. Derion couldn’t die that easily. He’s a beast… a magical beast!’
But he was a mutation.
