The struggle and crushing of competing interests—that was how bloody and ruthless it could be.
Luka had no sympathy whatsoever for these captives.
Perhaps some of the younger generation of warlocks might feel a twinge of doubt, but Luka—who had lived through the upheaval of the Central Continent, the hostility of the Wizard World, and the glory that followed—would never harbor such thoughts.
"Once we reach White Phosphorus City and hand in the assignment, everyone can finally get some proper rest!" Luka shouted, drawing a wave of enthusiastic agreement, punctuated by a few terrified sobs from the captives, making for a rather interesting contrast.
"Oh, and you all know the rules—I don't need to spell them out again, do I?"
His gaze swept coldly over the group below, the warning in his eyes unmistakable.
The other warlocks faltered. It was Rochard who managed a strained smile: "Rest assured! None of us would dream of being disrespectful to the three ladies of White Phosphorus City…"
"Good!" Luka replied. Though he knew many of the warlocks were still seething internally, his expression softened.
White Phosphorus City—while nominally a subordinate force under that gentleman's banner—clearly maintained a considerable degree of autonomy. It was not only independent from the Ouroboros Circle but even commanded its own loyal forces, firmly controlling the other end of the trade route between the two sides.
If it weren't for the fact that their faction was newly established and lacked manpower, this kind of extermination campaign would never have fallen to Luka and his people.
Even so, before descending underground, their warlocks had been repeatedly ordered to obey White Phosphorus City's commands without the slightest deviation.
Anyone who had dared to defy that directive had already had their bones turned to ash, their souls left to repent in the endless prisons of the White Phosphorus Snake…
Of course, there were whispered rumors that the reason for this special treatment had something to do with a certain… ambiguous relationship between those three ladies and Lord Leilin.
Though Luka had long since confirmed this in his heart, he would sooner die than speak it aloud.
Gradually, the vast silhouette of White Phosphorus City began to emerge before the party. The buildings' perpetual luminescence was dazzlingly brilliant, carrying a very distinct flavor.
"According to legend, this White Phosphorus City was constructed in an instant by that gentleman himself through terrifying magical power, and blessed by him, granting it an eternal effect…"
Watching the streams of people flowing in and out, and the envy and awe on the faces of the young men in their ranks, Luka felt an indescribable surge of pride.
"No matter how many times I see it—it's still unbelievable!" Rochard walked up to Luka, his eyes brimming with envy. This power to move mountains and reshape seas was clearly something he could only look up to. In truth, whether he could even touch the boundaries of such power within his lifetime was almost certainly impossible.
"The underground trade city—White Phosphorus!" Luka's voice carried a rare hint of excitement. "Once we hand in the assignment, we can go home!"
"Home! Home!!" The young men cheered in unison.
"Tch!" At that moment, a sharp spit cut through the celebration, jarringly out of place.
"Hm?!" Luka glanced over toward the source of the sound. It came from a young wizard, one who carried an unmistakable air about him—the refined bearing that only came from high station, or from the long cultivation of a wizard aristocracy bred over generations.
"I remember you. The eldest son of the family we just wiped out—rumored to carry noble bloodline, the highest grade of slave!"
Luka stepped up to the young man and saw his face flush crimson. The word "slave" had clearly struck a nerve.
"You damn invaders! The great Underground Wizard Alliance will never let you get away with this!" The young wizard's face still bore fresh wounds, and his body was bound in anti-magic chains, yet he stubbornly raised his head.
"The Underground Wizard Alliance? That chaotic little resistance group?" Luka nearly laughed. "I'm afraid your hopes are going to be completely dashed…"
"Everything is witnessed by the great Abyss Mother…" The young man's gaze was unwavering. This resolve made Luka furrow his brow slightly.
This wasn't the determination of someone clinging to a belief—it was the confidence of someone holding a hidden card.
"Then… would you mind telling me where your confidence comes from?" Luka asked with some curiosity.
Under the current circumstances, he simply couldn't see any possibility of the young man turning the tables.
Though the youth was about to be sold off as a slave, and at best might be taken in as a male consort by some high-ranking wizard who fancied his looks and bloodline, Luka didn't mind chatting a while longer.
"You'll see!" the young man shot back, glaring at Luka before turning his head away.
"You damn swine, who do you think you are? What standing do you think you still have? Under the rule of our Ouroboros Circle, you still dare to stir up rebellion!" Rochard's voice rang out sharply, the whip in his hand already trembling to strike.