In the South Continent, humans are commodities, and human trafficking is the most lucrative trade.
With the God of Spiritual Creatures corrupted by the Mother Tree of Desire, the Balam Empire lost its last strength to resist the four deities of Loen and Intis. Even Adrian Abraham's nephew, the Sequence 1 "Abomination" Suah, couldn't alter the gods' division of interests. Not to mention, the boy's mind was hardly clear, perpetually indulging in unrestrained debauchery.
Renette Tinekerr's death in battle against Suah's faction further depleted the already scarce high-sequence Beyonders in the colonies, making matters worse. If Klein Moretti felt disgust at Loen's trafficking after witnessing Backlund's slums, the South Continent's human trade was a living hell.
The Mother Tree of Desire governs two pathways: Abyss and Chained. Under the Law of Beyonder Convergence, Beyonders of these pathways naturally flock here. Demons require slaughter to act their roles, while the Indulgence faction demands satisfaction of desires. The needs of Loen and Intis colonizers, alongside local Beyonders, have wrought profound misery on the people.
Here, kinder Beyonders might offer a pittance to buy the lives of the desperate. A man is worth one pound, a woman half that. For the starving, a single meal is enough to sell their daughters to bloodthirsty demons.
More often, it's outright plunder. Residents dare not walk at night; a single outing could mean vanishing from their families forever. The darkness here surpasses even the God-Abandoned Land's. While lacking its natural disasters, this place suffers man-made calamities from indulgence and demons, bearing a depravity far heavier than the True Creator's.
Compared to these precarious locals, Loen's poor live in relative stability. At least they don't fear random Beyonders massacring them or disappearing for sleeping outside.
Next to such suffering, no hardship seems significant.
Far behind Mr. A, a man raised his rough hand, casually striking a ragged girl's face. The frail child staggered, collapsing to her knees.
With a clatter, a rusty, low-quality dagger was tossed before her. Alongside it came the man's cold words and a harsh kick to push her aside.
"Lead him to that alley and stab him."
"Or I'll send you there."
The girl shuddered, snatching the dagger and sprinting toward Mr. A. She knew what "there" meant. Barely surviving, she'd seen companions sent to that place.
When they cleaned, only shattered limbs and bloodstains remained.
Tears welled in her eyes at the memory. She wanted to live.
Running forward, her face hardened with resolve and a trace of madness. Watching Mr. A walk, she suppressed her trembling, inching closer with her small frame. The men observing grinned sinisterly, trailing her from a distance.
They knew the sturdy man likely carried a weapon, but no outsider would suspect a child seemingly engaged in illicit work. Outnumbered, an injury to a vital spot would turn his weapon into their gold pounds.
Mr. A walked on, sensing an odd presence beside him. It felt like flesh he'd once touched, yet this body lacked vitality—a frame nearing collapse.
He glanced down, seeing a child barely reaching his waist.
The girl forced a smile, stiffly mimicking the street-wandering older girls she'd seen, lifting her skirt slightly. She didn't understand the gesture's meaning, only that men dressed like him were often drawn to such actions.
But she forgot the dagger hidden on her. Mr. A noticed her panic as the blade slipped into view, her hand fumbling to stab him. He grabbed her wrist: "Child, don't panic."
Mr. A's voice, magnetic and soothing, calmed her unexpectedly. Stiffly, she let him hold her wrist, guiding her forward—toward a shadowy alley.
From the moment he passed those vagrants, Mr. A had sensed their malice. Seeing the girl's countless swollen scars, he pieced together the plot: they feared his potential weapons and counterattacks, so they sent this child—a disposable pawn, judging by her movements.
In his past as a Rose Bishop, he might have nurtured such a lamb to lower others' guards. Unless absolutely necessary, he wouldn't sacrifice the Lord's pure lambs.
"Don't be afraid, child," Mr. A said in a low, reassuring tone. "I know you were forced by those men, right?"
The girl stiffened, a subtle movement confirming Mr. A's suspicion, honed from his Rose Bishop days. After a few seconds, she nodded faintly, her gestures cautious, fearing the men trailing them might notice.
"I'll help you, child," Mr. A continued, his voice laced with persuasion. "You are the Lord's pure lamb, and I am His shepherd. Trust me, you'll be fine. See, the Lord protects us."
"…" The girl bit her lip in silence. Only when Mr. A led her into the dark alley did she whisper, barely audible, "Sir, you can't go in… They're after you. They're strong…"
"The Lord's faithful must not fear evil," Mr. A said, a smile touching his lips. "The Lord will shield us, child. Trust me, neither of us will come to harm."
After a moment's hesitation, Mr. A gently took the rusty dagger from her hand, slicing his finger with it. The girl gasped, but his wound began to heal visibly.
"See? The Lord protects us," Mr. A said with a hint of humor. "When they catch up, stab the dagger into me, then run inside—don't worry, I'll be fine."
"Our suffering is the Lord's test; His protection spares us pain."
Mr. A devoutly traced a cross over his chest, a saintly smile on his face, addressing the scarred girl: "May the Lord protect you, pure lamb."
Mr. A saw no filth in her, only hatred for his own past powerlessness, unable to sooner save those poisoned by evil gods and demons.
This land was diseased, its evil oozing toxic pus across the earth.
(End of Chapter)