Chapter 1179 - 1180: Old Grudge Returns
Ranar and Ric quickly realized they would not be able to break the barrier, and if they could not destroy it, then their only option was to remove it.
That was their plan.
As soon as the barrier came down, Ranar would rain hell upon their captors with her magic, and the two of them would flee.
Half a day passed, yet the man known as Razor Head still did not return. They were left waiting in the darkness with nothing but silence to keep them company.
Ranar did not understand what being offered to the City Lord was supposed to mean. She soon learned from the five children what the adult world was like, and the more she learned, the more disgusted she became.
This was what Gunter had condemned her to.
"Why would anyone do that to a child?"
Apparently, there were many eccentrics in the world who had peculiar tastes, and there were even people who made it their life’s work to hunt such people down.
Evil was evil, yet people had a strange tendency to accept some forms of evil while demanding that others be punished.
There were people who could forgive a murderer but demand that a rapist be hanged.
Evil was subjective to one’s imagination and perception of reality.
Then if that was the case, what was she supposed to define as evil?
Ranar did not understand it.
Perhaps she never would.
She sat silently in the darkness, her small hands resting against her knees as her thoughts wandered.
If she used a Chaotic Spark of magic, would everyone outside die?
Were they all strong enough to withstand her attacks?
And if she killed them, would that make her a murderer?
Why did people have to do these things?
Why couldn’t everyone simply be happy?
Why couldn’t everyone love one another?
The naive heart of a young girl tightened painfully.
Why did the world have to be so dark?
Damon would perhaps regret raising his daughter to be such a gentle soul.
He was nothing like her.
If Damon were in her position, he would already be planning his vengeance. He would be thinking about how to kill his enemies, how to survive, and what excuse he could use to justify every corpse he left behind.
Then how had someone like that raised someone so innocent and kind?
The answer was simple.
Good and evil were not inherited traits.
They were subjective to one’s perception of reality and the circumstances that had brought a person to where they stood.
It was almost like the idea of choice.
People mistook choice for freedom, but the two were not the same.
Your choices were, in many ways, their own prison. They were limited by what you knew, what you saw, what you felt, and the ideals that had shaped you. The place where you were born, the people who raised you, the experiences you endured, all of them shaped the choices you would eventually make.
No choice was truly free.
Perhaps all choices were predetermined by the things that had come before them.
And if that was true, then perhaps God was wicked.
Perhaps being a God was wicked because Gods traded people the illusion of choice.
And therefore, perhaps even the God of Choice was evil.
Ranar did not know any of this.
After all, what good was God to her?
She was only a child.
And if she did not understand something, how could she condemn it?
She could only condemn what she saw before her and question the choices she herself had made.
Ric could not see her expression in the darkness, but the silence surrounding them made him feel a deep sense of guilt.
This was all his fault.
If only he had not used that stupid scroll.
If only he had not gone to steal food.
"When you do bad things, bad things follow you."
Lilith had taught him that.
Then why had he been so willful?
Ric lowered his head and clenched his small fists.
If he got Ranar out of this, he swore he would never do anything bad again.
Just as he reached that thought, the doors opened once more.
Several people entered.
One of them was a man wearing a hood that concealed his face. The metallic sound of his boots echoed through the chamber with every step. He carried no weapon, yet there was something about the way he walked that made the air feel heavier.
Razor Head followed behind him with several of his men.
The hooded man stopped before the barrier and looked inside.
"This is the merchandise. As you can see, it is quite appealing. The boy has a special background as well, though I have yet to determine where he came from. He could prove useful. The other five are a bonus."
The man remained silent for a moment.
Then his gaze settled on Ranar.
"Fourth Class Advancement at the age of ten."
His voice remained calm.
"I’ve heard the rumors. I simply never believed them."
His gaze shifted toward Ric.
"And you... You must be unlucky to have been born in the same era as her. Reaching the Second Class Advancement at your age is already a great feat."
He slowly raised his head.
"The world is changing."
His fingers curled slightly beneath his cloak.
"I remember when Seras Blade was the sole exception. She dazzled the world with her extraordinary talent and became the tool behind a thousand battles."
There was a strange nostalgia in his voice.
"Glorious."
Then his voice became colder.
"The world changed when Damon Grey led his party back from Lysithara. Suddenly, greatness became mundane."
"You know my father?"
Ranar’s voice trembled slightly.
She was almost certain now.
This was the City Lord.
The man chuckled softly.
"Know him?"
He lowered his head.
"Yes."
His voice became strangely intimate.
"I know him very, very well."
He reached up and slowly pulled down his hood.
"I knew him when he was a boy."
The moment his face was revealed, Ranar’s breath caught in her throat.
Ric’s pupils contracted.
Both children instinctively took a step backward.
The man’s face was horribly deformed, as though acid had been poured over it and left the flesh permanently ruined. Deep scars covered one side of his face, twisting his features into something almost unrecognizable.
Ranar’s hands began to tremble.
Her father had done this?
"That was years ago," the man continued. "He was still a child then. I could have killed him."
His fingers slowly brushed against one of the scars.
"But I never got the chance."
His voice carried no anger.
That somehow made it worse.
"Back then, his actions forced me out of the city. I had no choice but to join the Imperial Army."
He lowered his hand.
"Of course, I soon learned that he had become something of a legend."
A faint smile appeared beneath his ruined features.
"There were many times I nearly died over the years."
His eyes narrowed.
"But do you know what kept me alive?"
Ranar stared at him, her breathing becoming increasingly shallow.
"What drove me forward?"
The man’s gaze hardened.
"It was vengeance."
Ranar’s fingers curled tightly into her dress.
She had never imagined her father could have caused something like this.
"I waited for years."
His voice became colder with every word.
"And it seems the Goddess has not forgotten me."
He stepped closer to the barrier.
"I will repay the pain and shame tenfold."