Lord of the Truth
Chapter 1378: lucky slaves

Chapter 1378: lucky slaves

Somewhere deep within the heart of Sector 100 in the Middle Ring—

Step... step...

Each footfall echoed like a ghost’s whisper, very chosen few can ever hear it.

In a voice barely louder than silence, Theo finally spoke:

"Did you get what I asked for, Mister Buldag?"

"You know damn well your request is nearly impossible," came the response from a short, wide-bellied man walking swiftly ahead of him. His cheeks sagged heavily, his nose was crimson from too many drinks, and his glassy eyes looked like he drank liquor the way others drank water. And yet, his voice was clear, precise, and disturbingly lucid.

"A few more years, maybe or a few decades more. Honestly, I might never be able to get what you’re asking for."

"That’s not what I’ve heard about you," Theo stopped in his tracks, his tone flat, cold as iron.

"And it’s not the kind of service I’ve come to expect from our previous dealings."

"Heh~ You know how much I admire you, little Shadow Sword," Buldag chuckled, turning halfway toward Theo with a crooked grin. "I’m genuinely impressed by your little uprising in Mid-Sector 100. But let’s be real, you’re pushing it this time."

He turned to face Theo fully, squinting as if trying to read something beneath his skin.

"Be honest with me—where did all that money suddenly come from? I know the underworld you operate in. It’s profitable, sure... but billions? No way. Did you find yourself a new backer? Some hidden powerhouse, maybe?"

"Higher than you can imagine," Theo’s lips curled into a dark, knowing smile. "But it seems you’re not interested in his coin."

"This has nothing to do with interest or coin," Buldag waved his hand dismissively as he resumed walking into a narrow, suffocating alleyway. The walls were slick with moisture, and the stench of rot and sweat clung to every stone like an oily film.

"The truth is, your demands are simply outrageous, even for someone like me."

"Who else would dare show up out of the blue and try to purchase dozens of World Cataclysms and even a Nexus State?!" he added, almost laughing at the absurdity.

"If you, Mister Buldag, the kingpin of the trade in this entire sector, can’t provide them..." Theo’s voice stayed steady as he followed closely behind, "...then who can? You wouldn’t want me sniffing around your competitors, would you?"

He knew this man wasn’t just another criminal. He was the largest and most influential slave trader in all of Mid-Sector 100’s middle territories—one who operated with the unspoken blessing of a certain shadowy guild. If what Theo wanted wasn’t available here, it likely didn’t exist anywhere else. But even so, Theo was getting impatient. Time was ticking.

"Listen, my little friend..." Buldag spoke again, his tone somewhere between casual and calculating. "When it comes to slaves of this caliber, you need to place an order centuries in advance. Even at their ridiculous prices, they sell faster than fresh water in a drought."

He stopped and turned abruptly, facing Theo with a toothy grin.

"And let’s not forget, didn’t I already hook you up with eight World Cataclysms last time? Any complaints? Did even one of them disobey you? Obedient as sheep, weren’t they?"

"They’re not enough." Theo replied with unnerving calm. "I need at least three times that number. Maybe more."

Buldag barked out a laugh, a deep and ugly sound that echoed down the damp corridor.

"What is this? Is your mysterious backer planning to declare war on Mid-Sector 100?"

He snorted and waved again, as if swatting away a fly.

"I’m kidding—burn the whole sector to the ground if you like. That just means more slaves for me, hehehe..."

A few paces later, the tight alley suddenly opened into a hidden courtyard—walled in on all sides, dimly lit by faint, flickering lights embedded in the stone. The ground was uneven and wet, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and rust.

And then Theo saw them.

He halted, placing his hands behind his back with slow, deliberate composure. His sharp eyes scanned the wall in front of him.

Fifteen bodies were chained there—young men, adolescents, and children—bound by wrists and ankles to iron shackles fused into the stone. Some were completely naked, others wore tattered remnants of clothing, all of them trembling, covered in grime and bruises. Around each of their necks was a wide collar, pulsing with a dim light every few seconds, like a dying heartbeat.

But one figure in the center drew Theo’s full attention.

Unlike the others, this one was restrained in a far more brutal fashion. He was kneeling on the cold, wet ground, his head hanging low in silence. His legs were shackled together and bolted to the floor; his arms yanked backward and bound tightly at the elbows. The collar around his neck wasn’t just glowing—it was crushing. It pressed so violently into his flesh that his veins bulged and throbbed against the skin, barely able to breathe.

And his appearance...

The figure was entirely black—so dark he seemed sculpted from pure shadow, as if the night itself had shaped him. His skin had a strange, unnatural sheen, and on his forehead, small ridges protruded like horns that had started to grow but never fully formed—muted echoes of something more monstrous beneath the surface.

Theo narrowed his eyes slightly.

Now that... that one was special.

Buldag, the stocky dwarf, took a few hasty steps toward the wall lined with chains, then turned abruptly to face Theo, his stubby fingers already gesturing animatedly.

"Exactly as your order specified," he declared proudly, as if presenting a masterpiece.

"Exceptional pure-blooded humans, untrained. I squeezed my warehouses dry looking for them—dug through every last reserve I had—and this right here is the first batch. Honestly, I’m not even sure I’ll be able to find another fifteen like them. Every single one of these has either a powerful natural affinity toward one of the Laws... or a rare soul trait."

He clapped his hands together with a sharp, echoing snap, his grin wide and oozing salesmanship.

"Normally, I’d charge a full million for each of the Law-bound elites, and five hundred thousand for those with soul traits. That puts the price at 12.5 million pearls.

But since you’ve become such a loyal, consistent customer..."

He gave an exaggerated wink and smirked.

"...I’m feeling generous. Let’s call it 12.4 million. A massive discount, just for you."

"What a grand act of selflessness," Theo replied dryly, stepping closer to the chained captives, expression unreadable—cold, calculated.

"But don’t you think those prices are... a touch excessive?"

"My friend—my little shadow sword," Buldag said with a chuckle, slapping Theo lightly on the arm, "you underestimate what you’re looking at. Any one of these with a supreme Law affinity could, with the right breeding strategy over a few hundred years, found an entire ruling dynasty in your name.

And those with soul traits? Feed them, guide them, and with sufficient resources—which I doubt you’re lacking—they’ll be on the path to becoming Royal Soul Masters in no time."

He turned to the figure chained in the center, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"And this... this is the real reason I invited you here today."

"Hmm?"

Theo turned, eyeing the kneeling prisoner. A high-grade suppression collar encased the man’s neck, so tightly wound with runes and soul locks that not even a whisper of energy escaped. Theo couldn’t sense anything—no aura, no presence. It was as if the man didn’t exist.

"You’re not saying..." Theo narrowed his eyes. "You actually found me a Nexus State being?"

"Don’t get ahead of yourself," Buldag said quickly, waving his hands. "Those are still off the market, and you already rented one for a hundred years, that was already difficult for you, wasn’t it? Give me time—maybe next century I’ll be able to sell you one instead."

He walked behind the black-skinned figure and gave him a pat between the shoulders.

"But this one right here? He’s the pinnacle of a World Cataclysm. He has dual affinities—Darkness and Wind. A rare combination. I’ve kept him sealed away, untouched, just for you. Consider it a... goodwill offering."

"Darkness and Wind? Pinnacle of a World Cataclysm?"

Theo’s voice dropped low as he took several deliberate steps forward, eyes locked on the prisoner.

"...No. That can’t be. You’re not telling me... is this him? The legendary assassin... the one they called The Black Ray? He didn’t die in that ambush?!"

"Heh heh, that’s the one," Buldag said proudly, puffing out his chest.

"The bastard who gave every noble with enemies insomnia. You wouldn’t believe the operation it took to catch him. A coalition of factions came together just to set the trap. They mobilized not one, not two, but three Nexus State beings and a Royal Soul Master just to bring him down!"

Buldag rubbed his hands together, clearly savoring the moment.

"And once they had him, they sold him off to us—to cover the astronomical costs of that mission and inviting all those experts. On one condition: that we keep him under absolute control and don’t use him against these factions ever again, other than that, we are free to use him as we see fit, they just don’t care about anyone else.

Now... if you’re willing to meet the price, he’s yours."

Theo didn’t respond right away. He stared long and hard at the figure, who still knelt in silence, neck strained under the crushing weight of the collar.

"How much?" Theo finally asked, voice nearly a whisper.

Buldag closed his eyes, taking a deep breath like a man about to state the value of a priceless artifact.

"Six hundred million pearls," he said solemnly. "And I know what you’re going to say, but this time I won’t—"

"I’ll take him."

The dwarf blinked. "...What?"

"I said, I’ll take him."

Theo’s voice had no hesitation. No bargaining. No pause.

Six hundred million? For The Black Ray? A steal. Just the rumor that this infamous ghost of death had joined the Shadow Blades would send shockwaves through the sector. Their reputation—and profits—would multiply overnight.

CLANG.

The Black Ray slowly raised his head. His eyes, two pits of endless black, locked onto his new master. A primal instinct sparked in them—an attempt to intimidate, to assert dominance, to warn.

But what he found staring back at him...

...were eyes darker than his own.

There was silence.

A wordless exchange.

Master.

Slave.

Bound without words.

After several tense seconds, Theo turned to Buldag and declared:

"I’ll take them all."

WHOOSH.

A surge of fresh clothing shot out from Theo’s spatial ring, floating toward the chained captives.

Then he spoke, his tone even and unshakable—words he had heard before, words that never lost their gravity:

"Cover yourselves. You belong to me now."