Chapter 112: Troublesome(2)

’Or he’s testing my resolve.’

“Makes this more entertaining,” the leader continued. “Breaking confident ones is always more satisfying than crushing those who surrender immediately.”

His subordinates chuckled at the casual cruelty, clearly familiar with their leader’s methods. These weren’t desperate survivors—they were organized predators who’d perfected the art of territorial conquest.

’How many Lords have they done this to?’

Derek stepped back from the barrier, wiping energy residue from his fingers. “Boss, should we bring the others? Make it a proper siege?”

“Not necessary,” the leader replied. “Three of us can handle this rabble easily. Besides, why share the spoils unnecessarily?”

Torres nodded agreement. “The main Lord gets his tribute, we keep the rest. Standard arrangement.”

’They’re part of a large base. This gets worse.’

The leader continued his evaluation of Ethan’s forces. “Let’s see… thirteen subjects total. The archer’s the prize, obviously. The warriors might be useful as shock troops. The rest…” He shrugged dismissively.

“Labour,” Derek suggested. “Always need more diggers and builders.”

“Or target practice,” Torres added with dark humour. “My aim’s been getting rusty lately.”

’They’re deciding who lives and who dies like it’s a business transaction.’

Marcus’s hand tightened on his sword hilt, knuckles white with suppressed fury. “My Lord, I request permission to—”

“To what?” The leader interrupted with amusement. “Charge into certain death? Admirable loyalty, but pointless.”

Jack stepped protectively closer to Elena, his Peak-Bronze aura flickering with controlled rage. “We won’t let you touch her.”

“You won’t ’let’ us?” Derek’s laughter was harsh. “Boy, you couldn’t stop us if we decided to take her right now.”

’They’re right. The power gap is insurmountable.’

Torres studied the residential construction with professional interest. “Actually, boss, this setup’s not bad. They’ve got the basics of a functional territory. Might be worth keeping intact.”

“Depends on the Lord’s cooperation,” the leader replied, his gaze never leaving Ethan. “Willing subjects work harder than broken ones. But broken ones don’t rebel.”

The leader’s patience was wearing thin, his casual demeanor sharpening into something more dangerous.

“Final offer,” he announced, his voice hardening. “Kneel now, and your subjects keep their limbs. Refuse, and we’ll demonstrate why resistance is futile.”

Derek cracked his knuckles meaningfully. “I vote for the demonstration. Been too long since we had a proper example to make.”

“The last one screamed for hours,” Torres added reminiscently. “Very educational for the survivors.”

’They want me to break. To choose slavery over death.’

The barrier continued to ripple under their presence, its energy fluctuating as if struggling to maintain stability. Protection that seemed absolute moments ago now felt fragile as glass.

’Four days to prepare for war against impossible odds.’

Ethan studied the three predators, memorizing their faces and calculating tactical options.

’There has to be some way.’

“Well? I don’t have all evening for your internal debate.”

Derek tapped his foot impatiently. “Just say yes so we can get this over with. My boss doesn’t like waiting.”

Torres examined his fingernails with exaggerated boredom. “Maybe we should just camp here tonight. Let him think about it while we discuss distribution of assets.”

’Whatever I decide next determines everything.’

The weight of thirteen lives pressed down on Ethan’s shoulders as he faced the most crucial decision since arriving in the Sanctuary.

Submit to predators, or find a way to fight impossible odds.

’Time to choose.’

Ethan’s weapon clattered to the sand as he raised his hands in apparent surrender. The sound echoed across the tense silence, metal against sandcreating a finality that made his subjects’ hearts sink.

“Smart choice,” the leader said with satisfaction, his predatory smile widening. “I was beginning to think you might be one of those stubborn idealists.”

Derek laughed harshly. “Look at that! The mighty Lord crumbles at the first sign of real opposition. Pathetic.”

Torres nodded with approval. “At least he’s not completely stupid. Saves us the trouble of making examples.”

The leader gestured toward the barrier with casual authority. “Good. Now walk outside the barrier.”

Ethan nodded slowly, his expression carefully neutral despite the calculated fury burning beneath the surface. Each step toward the barrier’s edge was measured, deliberate—a man accepting inevitable defeat.

Behind him, his subjects watched in stunned silence. The sound of their Lord’s weapon hitting the ground had been like a death knell, crushing hopes they’d barely dared to nurture.

’They need to believe this is real.’

As Ethan approached the barrier’s threshold, the leader’s voice stopped him. “Your subordinates, too. Everyone outside. Now.”

’Of course. He wants complete control.’

Ethan turned toward his subjects, his face a mask of resigned defeat. Thirteen pairs of eyes stared back at him—some angry, some terrified, all looking for guidance he seemed unable to provide.

“Listen to what he said,” Ethan announced, his voice carrying across. “Value your lives. They’re more important than a piece of land.”

’Forgive me for what comes next.’

Marcus stepped forward, his face twisted with anguish. “My Lord, we have days before the barrier falls! We could—”

“Escape where?” Ethan interrupted sharply. “Into the desert? Into territories controlled by their allies?” He gestured helplessly toward their captors. “There’s nowhere to run.”

’Sell the deception completely.’

Elena’s hands trembled as she struggled with the bow she no longer had permission to wield. “We could fight! Together we might—”

“We’d die,” Ethan cut her off with brutal finality. “All of us. Is your pride worth their lives?”

His gesture encompassed the younger subjects, the non-combatants who’d trusted him with their safety. The weight of leadership pressed down visibly on his shoulders.

Jack’s jaw clenched as understanding dawned. Their Lord was choosing survival over honor, life over principle. The decision every leader dreaded but sometimes faced.

“My Lord…” Jacoub’s voice was barely a whisper. “The buildings… everything we’ve worked for…”

“Can be rebuilt,” Ethan replied flatly. “Lives can’t be replaced.”

’Keep watching their positions. Calculate distances.’

One by one, his subjects began moving toward the barrier’s edge. Their faces showed the crushing weight of defeat, dreams of independence dissolving like morning mist.

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