11
The Hound’s surprise attack devastated Razcrew’s company in an instant.
The drunken—or in some cases, sleeping—crew were slaughtered by the mercenaries, nearly a third of them wiped out in the opening assault. But the ones who survived that first onslaught were the true members of their criminal outfit. To Ricardo, however, they were nothing more than weaklings.
But it was important to note that they were only weaklings compared to Ricardo.
“Pieces of shit! They think they can screw with me?!”
As his men cut down the mercenaries, Razcrew snarled at the growing pile of corpses before him.
Five mercenaries had stormed into his quarters—the most intact house in the ghost town—while he was sleeping. Now, every last one of them was dead, cut down by the swords of his entourage. But judging from the clash of steel and the screams echoing across the village, the ambush wasn’t limited to that small squad.
“This ain’t the work of some brain-dead bandits…it’s those assholes we ran into on the road.”
Razcrew had heard rumors that the city council had set up a mercenary task force to put a stop to the caravan attacks. That had been enough to convince him to wrap up business in Banan early and skip town before the mercenaries started sniffing around. So how the hell had they found him—?
“Boss, what should we do with the others?”
“We got Didorii, remember? We don’t gotta do shit. Let those arrogant bastards meet their doom. We’ve got something more important to check on.”
The mere mention of the berserker many-armed man silenced his entourage. No doubt Didorii was already having the time of his life, twirling through the battlefield as heads flew around him.
But Razcrew had bigger concerns—what had triggered this whole bloodbath in the first place? If everything had gone as usual, yet chaos had erupted, then something had changed. And the key to that mystery always lay in the unusual.
He ran his fingers over the bracers on his forearms, ensuring the jewels embedded in them were still in place. Those were the ones that controlled the all-important slave collars. Then, he led his entourage toward the cargo.
“The girl… She’s in this crate, yeah?”
He stopped before a large wooden crate and gestured for his men to open it. The moment they did, the heavy stench of blood rushed into his face. Razcrew scowled, bracing against the metallic tang in the air.
“…!”
A faint gasp came from within the crate. He stepped inside, peering into the darkness as his eyes adjusted. And then he saw—
“Now I get it.” He let out a low chuckle, tucking his chin. “Those little runts had a blessing…crafty little buggers.”
The young female catman’s abdomen was soaked in blood. Her brother lay behind her, bearing the same wounds. And there she stood, arms spread protectively before him, defiant despite her injuries.
Razcrew was genuinely impressed.
What form. What beauty. Of all the cargo he had handled so far, she was a gem.
“Well done, especially with your limbs bound. Those wounds…let me guess. You found yourself a shard of glass at Dump Mountain?”
“You sound awfully confident,” Anastasia shot back. “Hasn’t a big, scary wolf come to rescue me?”
“My own rabid dog’s probably fightin’ him as we speak. Anyway, you’ll pay dearly for all the money you’re costing me.”
Razcrew smirked as he lifted his left arm, flashing the bracer at the defiant girl. With just a thought, he could unleash unbearable pain on any slave wearing a collar—a lesson he had already taught the catgirl once before.
Even her strong-willed expression faltered at the memory of that agony. Satisfied, Razcrew kept his gaze on her as he slipped a twisted dagger from his pocket, one of his favorite torture tools.
Not that he’d use it on her. That would ruin her value. No, the dagger was meant for the children behind her.
“Listen, sweetie, you’ve been a very bad girl. But you ain’t the only one who has to pay for what you did. This’ll be a great lesson for you.”
With a small tilt of his chin, his men reached out to grab Anastasia. He planned to make her watch as he tortured one of the catmen, forcing her to repent. After that, Didorii would make short work of the mercenaries, and this little mess would be neatly wrapped up.
“Gotta pay…for what you did…”
“Hmm?”
Lost in his own thoughts, Razcrew barely registered the girl’s hoarse voice. He turned around, only to find her staring directly into his eyes.
Her pale yellow gaze burned with something…something unnerving.
“If that’s true…then it’s you… You gotta pay for what you did!” she spat, her voice fierce.
In a flash, a catman sprang forward, fangs bared in a sharp grin.
“Evil never prospers!!!”
Before Razcrew could react, the catman’s foot slammed into his face.
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