EVEN AS A SLAVE, THE HEAVENLY DEMON'S MIGHT SHALL TAME THE BEAUTIES-Chapter 43: THE UNEXPECTED SAVIORS

He glanced back to see her drawing both of her twin swords, the blades catching what little light filtered through the canopy. Something had changed in her since their time in the dungeon, a confidence that went beyond mere physical enhancement. She had found something within herself that she was no longer willing to suppress.

Aeloria prepared her magic with obvious reluctance, clearly wishing they had avoided this confrontation entirely. But when lives hung in the balance, her healer’s instincts overrode her personal grievances. Even Kira, though she retreated to the deepest shadows, watched Yomi with complete trust, certain that whatever happened next, he would protect them all.

The lead cultist’s head snapped up as if sensing their presence, his eyes glowing with unnatural light beneath his hood. "More offerings for the Progenitor’s glory!" he called out, his voice carrying disturbing enthusiasm. "The dark energies grow stronger with each soul we claim!"

The other cultists abandoned their ritual circle, dark energy crackling around their hands and weapons as they moved to engage these new threats. The power they wielded felt viscerally wrong, not the clean burn of elemental magic or the steady flow of Ki, but something that seemed to claw at reality itself.

Yomi stepped into the clearing with casual confidence, his hands remaining at his sides as he assessed his opponents. These were nothing like the gods’ servants who had destroyed his world, nor even the Murium cultists he had faced in his past life. They were something altogether different, dangerous in their alien wrongness, but ultimately lacking in true power.

The first cultist raised his hands, dark energy coalescing into what might have been a bolt of pure corruption. Before he could release it, the air around him shimmered with distortion, and his weapon-arm simply... separated from his body. The limb fell to the ground with a wet thud, cauterized so cleanly that no blood flowed.

Yomi hadn’t moved. Hadn’t even raised his hands. The invisible cutting wave of Ki had manifested from his will alone, guided by intent rather than gesture.

A second cultist tried to flank him, only to find his legs swept from under him by another wave of force that was visible only as a brief distortion in the air, like heat shimmer given deadly purpose. He hit the ground hard, his dark magic guttering out as his concentration shattered.

Lirien moved then, her enhanced reflexes carrying her into the fray with speed that surprised even herself. Her twin swords wove patterns through the air that seemed almost too fast to follow, each strike placed with precision that would have been impossible just days before. She found herself anticipating her opponents’ movements, her body responding to threats before her mind fully processed them.

One cultist tried to catch her with a net of dark energy, only to watch in amazement as she flowed around it like water, her blades finding the gaps in his defenses with surgical accuracy. The enhancement from Yomi’s Ki had done more than just increase her physical capabilities, it had awakened instincts she never knew she possessed.

Aeloria provided support from the perimeter, her magic creating barriers of light that the cultists’ dark energy couldn’t penetrate. She found herself impressed despite her reservations about their current path, whatever else Yomi might be, he understood tactics. Their coordination was seamless, each member of their small group complementing the others’ abilities without getting in each other’s way.

The battle was over almost before it began. Three cultists lay dead or dying, their dark energies dissipating into the evening air like smoke. The remaining two had been disabled rather than killed, a tactical choice that spoke to Yomi’s need for information rather than simple vengeance.

The lead cultist writhed on the ground, his legs severed by another of those invisible cutting waves. Dark blood pooled beneath him, but his eyes still burned with fanatical fervor. "You... you cannot stop what comes," he gasped, spittle flecking his lips. "The Progenitor awakens... the old ways return..."

Yomi crouched beside him, his expression cold and calculating. "Tell me about your master. Tell me about this Progenitor."

But even as he spoke, he could see the light fading from the cultist’s eyes. Not from blood loss, something else was killing him. Some kind of fail-safe built into their dark magic, ensuring that capture would never lead to betrayal.

The freed captives huddled together, too shocked to speak coherently. But one among them, a well-dressed man in merchant’s attire, managed to find his voice as Yomi cut through their bonds.

"Thank you," he breathed, pulling his wife and son protectively to his side. "I’m Marcus Goldwright. These monsters... they came out of nowhere. Our guards fled the moment they saw the dark magic."

Yomi studied the man carefully, taking in the quality of his clothes, the softness of his hands, and the way he held himself despite his terror. Wealthy, but not soft. Intelligent enough to recognise genuine gratitude when survival was at stake.

"Where were you headed?" Yomi asked, helping the man to his feet.

"The capital. Lexicanum Wiseguard." Marcus gestured toward the abandoned wagon, its contents spilled across the forest floor. "We’re spice merchants. Had business negotiations... though I suppose that hardly matters now."

Lirien and Aeloria worked to comfort the other rescued families while Kira emerged from her hiding place to stay close to Yomi’s side. The child’s presence seemed to have a calming effect on the traumatised civilians, proof that their rescuers weren’t simply another band of killers.

"Our guards abandoned us the moment they saw the dark magic," Marcus continued, anger creeping into his voice alongside the gratitude. "Twenty gold sovereigns we paid them, and they fled like cowards at the first sign of real danger. I’ll be filing a complaint with the guild to have their licenses revoked."

He paused, studying Yomi with the calculating gaze of a successful merchant. "You saved our lives. Our cargo. Our very souls, if these monsters were what I think they were." His voice strengthened with decision. "It’s not enough to simply thank you. We were planning to hire new protection for the remainder of our journey anyway. Would you consider traveling with us? I can offer comfortable passage to the capital, good food, and payment for escort services."

Yomi exchanged glances with his companions. Lirien nodded slightly, comfortable travel would be far preferable to walking the remaining distance. Even Aeloria seemed intrigued by the offer, though she tried to hide her interest.

"We accept," Yomi said simply.

Marcus Goldwright’s relief was visible. "Excellent! We have reinforced wagons, proper supplies... it’ll be far more comfortable than travelling on foot." He gestured toward his family. "My wife Elena, my son Thomas. We’re honest merchants, I give you my word."

As the group worked to gather the scattered goods and prepare for travel, Yomi found himself studying the dead cultists with growing unease. Their energy signatures were unlike anything native to this world, more alien even than the magic wielded by the gods who had destroyed his homeland.

The System had classified them as cultists, but they reminded him more of the Murium fanatics from his original world. Those mad worshippers had drawn power from entities that existed in the spaces between realities, beings so fundamentally wrong that their very presence corrupted everything around them.

If similar forces were at work in this world, then the apostle he was meant to eliminate might be connected to something far more dangerous than he had initially assumed. The thought should have concerned him, but instead, Yomi felt a familiar thrill of anticipation.

Worthy prey at last. Something that might actually provide a challenge.

As the evening deepened into full darkness, the group prepared to continue their journey toward the capital. The Goldwright family’s wagon was indeed reinforced and comfortable, with proper supplies and sleeping arrangements that would make the remainder of their travels far more pleasant.

But as they settled in for the night’s journey, Yomi couldn’t shake the feeling that this encounter with the cultists was just the beginning. Their organized nature, their references to trade route disruption, and most disturbing of all, their alien energy signatures suggested a threat that went far beyond simple banditry.

The capital awaited, with its academy, its guild, and somewhere within its walls, the apostle marked for elimination. But now Yomi suspected that his cosmic mission and the cultists’ activities were connected in ways the System hadn’t yet revealed.

The hunt was beginning to take on layers of complexity that made his blood sing with anticipation. Whatever was coming, it promised to be far more interesting than he had initially hoped.

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