Shadow Slave novel Chapter 3135

Effie sighed deeply, waiting for the brief moment of stillness to end. Once it did, she would probably turn into a pincushion... surviving that would be a challenge.

She could almost see when the hesitation in the eyes of the soldiers was replaced by malice and willingness to act. Even their fear of the plague was drowned out by bloodlust at that moment.

But just before the soldiers could snap, a low voice reverberated above the crowd:

"Who the hell gave you mongrels the audacity to block the entrance to my tent?"

And almost immediately, that bloodlust was replaced by terror.

The crowd of soldiers parted, revealing the imposing figure of Azarax, the King of Kings. He wore a dark, perilous expression, and his eyes were seething with barely contained rage.

When he noticed the javelin sticking from the mud near Effie, that scathing gaze turned even more terrifying.

In a voice that sounded almost like a growl, Azarax asked his soldiers:

"Since when do I lead an army of cowards?"

The soldiers had already been tense and wary, and his visible fury made them pale. Seeing this, all Effie could do was suppress a dark smile.

What was Azarax trying to say? That he encouraged them to try and kill her, but only in an honest and aboveboard way? Like attacking a bound and wounded woman with their hands, not ranged weapons.

In all honesty, he was being hypocritical. He had chained her in the middle of the camp precisely because he wanted his soldiers to attempt killing her — or hurting her, at least. However, he had only done that because he didn't really believe that they would be able to. What he wanted was to humiliate and torment his prisoner, grounding her spirit down, not lose his priceless trophy entirely.

But, ironically enough, at that moment, it was the spirits of his soldiers that seemed to crack. The hypocrisy of their tyrannical commander was the last drop that defeated their resolve, turning them from a crowd of seasoned murderers into a crowd of frightened, tired, starving men.

“Disperse! We are taking that damn castle today, so prepare to march!"

As Azarax bellowed, the soldiers glanced at each other, hesitated for a moment, and then followed his command.

That brief moment of hesitation, however, would have never happened before. He noticed it, as well, his face darkening even further.

As the soldiers dispersed, he made his way toward Effie and silently jerked her upright. The radiant priestess of War was gone at that moment. Instead of her, a gaunt woman covered in dirt and dried blood was in front of him, her hair like a dirty rag, her face pale and sunken.

Her eyes, however, were still the same, even if they were clouded by pain.

Azarax snarled, then snapped her shackles with his bare hands and dragged her toward his tent.

“Unsightly... pathetic. At this rate, they will really kill you, priestess. We can't have that, though... no, that wouldn't be fun at all. Everything will be over too soon..."

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