Chapter 54: The Vurnaria Slave System Falls (Part 1): The Lord's Stage Debut
The sun was a lazy orange stain against a perfect blue sky. Leornars was horizontal, stretched out on a swinging hammock. His crimson shirt and snow-white shorts were gently nudged by the sea breeze. A toothpick, angled just-so, danced on his lips.
"Right. Showtime," he murmured, the stick flicking onto the grass.
He rose, stretching like a contented housecat. The red dragon earring in his lobe caught the light, a single, malevolent spark.
"Honestly, a beautiful day like this… it just screams high-profile murder." His tone was completely, utterly calm.
He strolled into the oppressive, marble-heavy manor. The scratching sound of a quill was his only warning. Perfect.
In a blur—a flash of his unique Shadow Movement—Leornars appeared inside the Lord's private study. The Lord himself was slammed, instantly, throat-first into the wall. Crash! The force was enough to make the gilded picture frames rattle.
Rachael Suvallina, the daughter, was halfway out of her chair, hand already reaching for him.
Leornars didn't even bother to turn his head fully. His cold eyes, sharp as winter ice, darted to her.
"One touch," he warned, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "I'll consider it a direct threat. And I will kill you."
The Lord coughed up a splash of bright red blood. He stared at it, a look of shocked disbelief freezing on his face.
"Oh, a little surprised, are we?" Leornars stepped back, hands casually tucked in his pockets. "My, my."
He let his power leak. A suffocating, crushing wave of pure negative energy—his Aura of Depravity—washed over the room. The Lord shrieked, collapsing instantly to his knees, hacking up more crimson.
"You're dying today, you old shit," Leornars announced. He put his immaculate white shoe right on the back of the Lord's head and gave a swift, crushing stomp. The Lord's face hit the carpet with a sickening thud.
Screeee! Rachael's blade was out, shimmering.
Leornars sighed, turning to face her with exaggerated patience.
"In all my years, I've never been so provoked to strike such an idiot," he drawled.
As they both lunged—one an enraged daughter, the other a bored executioner—a massive, muffled explosion rocked the manor's far side.
The distraction is served.
One Week Ago: The Plan's First Draft
In the quiet, mission-control center that doubled as Leornars's room, Stacian was back. Her investigation was successful: she'd paid a cute demi-human girl to act as bait, letting her get snatched up by the slaver ring. Stacian and Zhyelena had tailed the kidnappers right to the hidden den.
Zhyelena's Mind Read ability had confirmed the location and the horrifying operation inside. That night, Stacian, moving like a phantom, had slipped in and pulled the demi-human out.
Now, a document detailing the hideout sat on the table. But it was useless.
"Okay, we have the slave location, but the Pollium problem makes this all worthless," Leornars summarized, drumming his fingers. "We can't accuse the Lord just with the hideout. We need proof he's the one selling his people for the drug trade."
"What if we plant someone near him?" Stacian suggested. "A close eye might catch a clue."
"Good idea, but… even my Phantom Illusion can't sustain a bottomless illusion of evidence. I don't have infinite mana, you know." He frowned, hundreds of possible outcomes flooding his mind simultaneously.
"Activate: Parallel Mind," he commanded internally. His thoughts multiplied, sifting data like a supercomputer. A second later, a predatory smirk split his face.
"I've got the idea," he stated. "Tomorrow, when you hear the big bang, you rush the slave den. Don't worry about me."
Stacian stared at him, a genuine sense of curiosity flickering in her usually stoic eyes. I wonder what kind of monster he just cooked up.
The Lord's Stage Debut (Continued)
The Lord, pinned to the floor, was sputtering.
"W-what are you doing?! Do you even know who I am?! I am the Lord!" he screamed, the title sounding hollow.
Leornars didn't argue. He squatted down, pulled out a nasty little dagger, and stabbed it hard into the Lord's hand.
"RACHAEL! Do something, you stupid child!"
Then, the Lord's eyes bugged out. The walls—the perfectly solid, expensive walls—began to glitch. He saw Rachael Suvallina, his daughter, melting on the floor, dissolving like wax in the sun. Pure shock stole his breath.
He looked at Leornars, whose aura now coalesced into the image of a massive, venomous shadow snake, coiling around the room. Leornars was smiling—a slow, terrifying, pitch-black grin.
"STOP! Stop that! I said stop!" the Lord shrieked, thrashing.
"Oh, and why should I?" Leornars asked, pretending to be confused.
"You're ruining everything! My life's work! You're tearing it all down!"
"And what, precisely, is that?" Leornars grabbed a fistful of his greasy hair and yanked his head up.
The Lord hesitated, mouth open, eyes darting.
"Should I finish it for you?" Leornars leaned in, his voice dangerously smooth. "As you can see, your little puppet-ruler of a daughter is about to die. Tell me everything, and I'll let her live. Maybe."
Tears of fear welled up. "T-they'll kill me if I talk!"
"And I will kill you if you don't," Leornars countered. The dagger twisted slightly in the Lord's hand. Blood oozed. "No one's coming to help you."
The Lord looked around the 'melting' room. He was utterly alone.
"Fine! I'll tell you everything!"
Leornars's dark smile widened.
"I… I've been selling the citizens as collateral to the Kingdom of Seraphim," the Lord choked out.
"Why? Why sink so low as to sell your own people?" Leornars's tone had turned cold, a sudden, lethal chill.
"I have a…" The Lord tried to hesitate again.
"A what? Let me finish. You have a massive addiction to Pollium," Leornars finished, dropping the Lord's hair with a scoff. "So you sold your people into slavery to ensure the Pollium trade routes were safely transported from Vurnam to Durmount."
The Lord gaped. "H-how did you know?!"
"Simple. I had Stacian analyze your food. It had a large percentage of Pollium residue," Leornars said, pointing a finger at the untouched plate on the table. "That was all the confirmation I needed."
"Don't worry about the food, though. Stacian added a few drops of a slow-acting poison each day, too. You've been getting weaker this whole time."
The Lord watched his daughter's illusionary body continue to fade before his eyes.
"My pawn! You lied! You killed her! I needed to use her!" the Lord screamed.
"'Use her?' Do explain that part," Leornars prompted, suddenly interested.
"I wanted her to pretend to be the Lord while I exploited the slave and Pollium trading rings!"
Clap. Clap. Clap. Leornars applauded lightly.
The Lord stared, confused.
Then, the walls began to slowly unravel. The 'melting' effect peeled away, revealing it to be Leornars's Phantom Illusion skill all along.
In the corner, alive and whole, stood Rachael Suvallina—and beside her, her younger sister, Marrielle Sullivana.
The Lord's pale face went ashen. He turned to Leornars.
"WHAT IS GOING ON?!"
"Well, you see," Leornars explained, straightening his red shirt, completely casual. "I cast an absolute illusion on this entire room the moment you fell asleep last night. Since I don't have bottomless mana, I had Kurumi Yamauchi bring me a pile of Mana Crystals, which gave me… plenty. Then the trap was set."
He grinned. "My illusion casts what you deeply fear. You saw your 'pawn' dying. So, I had you confess everything in front of your own children. Now, if I kill you—and I will—no one can accuse me of treason. Fair plan, huh?"
"You… you tricked me!" The Lord roared, lunging.
Rachael moved faster. Her foot snapped out, kicking her father hard on the jaw and sending him sprawling into the corner. Leornars simply adjusted his collar.
"Rachael! I am your father! I am the Lord!" he shouted.
She looked down at him with an expression of pure, magnificent disgust.
"You were my father," Rachael Suvallina spat. "I don't know who you are now."
He turned, desperation crawling into his voice. "Marrielle, dear…"
The younger girl looked at him, her eyes colder than her sister's.
"Die, you swine," she said simply.
"How does it feel, knowing your own daughters think you're a bitch?" Leornars asked, his tone gentle, almost therapeutic. "Hurts, doesn't it? Don't worry. When I'm done, I'll use Gate Keeper on you. Consider it a fast-track farewell to the afterlife, motherfucker."
The Lord suddenly started laughing, a strained, hysterical sound.
"You think you've won?! The slaves will be transported within the hour!"
Leornars turned back, his head tilted. "Oh, the ones in the western region, by the cave? If it's them… well, by now, Stacian should already be there. I'm thinking she's about finished."
The Lord's laughter died, replaced by a horrible, rasping sound.
"What are you?! What kind of devil are you?!"
Leornars was suddenly looming over him, his gentle demeanor vanished, replaced by a tangible wave of pure malice.
"The one you don't want angry," he whispered. He grabbed the Lord's throat, lifting him effortlessly. "Now, start talking. Everything about the Pollium and the slave trading rings. I. Don't. Have. All… day."