Legendary Extraction: Kingdom Builder in a Ruined World-Chapter 33: Interrogation [2.]

Elias suddenly burst into laughter after hearing those words—a real, genuine laugh that caught Veran completely off guard.

Veran stared at him in confusion as Elias wiped a tear from his eye, still smiling.

"You really are a merchant at heart," Elias said, shaking his head. "But sadly for you... this isn’t a market, and you don’t get to bargain here."

For a brief moment, panic flickered in Veran’s eyes, but he quickly masked it with a calm expression.

"Then kill me," Veran said coldly. "You won’t gain anything from it. I know there’s something you want—otherwise I’d already be dead. So go ahead, waste your only chance."

Elias let out a short chuckle again, his eyes gleaming as he leaned back in his chair.

"You really are a true businessman, Veran," he said with a smirk. "Even when backed into a corner, you’re still trying to strike a deal. I respect that."

Then, the smile vanished—gone in a blink, like a mask being ripped away.

"But like I said before," Elias continued, his voice now completely flat, "this isn’t something you can talk your way out of." freewebnσvel.cøm

His tone was cold and serious, carrying a weight that made Veran’s breath catch.

"You see, yes—I am going to kill you, Veran. That part’s already decided. What hasn’t been decided... is how much you’ll suffer before it happens."

A heavy silence followed, thick and choking.

Veran opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. Cold sweat slid down his back.

Elias let the silence hang between them like a noose.

Then, calmly and without rush, he leaned back in the chair again, resting his arms against the sides, his gaze fixed on Veran.

"If my hearing is still as good as it used to be," he said with a relaxed tone, "then there’s quite the excited crowd gathered just outside this building. Do you know what they’re waiting for, Veran?"

Elias leaned slightly forward, turning a little toward Vael. A dark grin stretched across his lips.

"They’re waiting to hear what your fate will be."

Veran felt a chill creep down his neck.

Elias’s smile returned—but it wasn’t warm this time.

"Tell me, Mr. Veran," Elias said, his voice dripping with mock amusement, "what do you think would happen... if I left your fate in their hands?"

Veran didn’t respond, but the question echoed in his mind.

And he already knew the answer. The fear in his eyes said it all.

Because the people outside? They had once been his slaves.

And though Kael had handled most of the logistics, it was Veran who had inflicted the pain. Veran who had used his power to control them completely and without mercy.

While Kael also gave punishments, at least his made some sense. He only punished people when they stepped out of line. But Veran? Veran punished them just for breathing.

He beat them for fun.

He used them to satisfy his twisted desires.

And the worst of it was what he did to the women. The things he did were despicable. And when they cried or tried to fight back, he punished them even more brutally. Some didn’t survive. The ones who did were left with scars that would never fade.

He craved control. That was the truth of it.

It was one of the main reasons he got involved in the slave trade in the first place.

Now, the thought of being overthrown, of being judged by the same people he had once tormented, shook him to his core.

His lips trembled. He could almost hear their screams, their cries, their begging.

His head shot up, eyes wide in panic.

"I’ll talk!" he gasped. "I’ll speak—I’ll tell you everything! Please—please, don’t give me to them! Don’t let them decide my fate, Lord Elias, please—!"

His voice cracked, full of fear and desperation.

"I’ll do anything! Anything you want! Just don’t give me to them!"

Elias let out a low chuckle and leaned back in his chair, completely relaxed, like someone watching a play unfold.

"You really are something," Elias said. "A true businessman. You know when to hold your cards—and when to throw them in."

He glanced at Vael, who gave a slow, approving nod.

Then Elias’s tone sharpened, cutting through the air like a knife.

"Start by answering my questions."

---

Outside the building...

The crowd, which had been loud moments earlier, had gone quiet.

Dozens of men and women stood near the entrance, craning their necks to see inside.

But the hallway revealed nothing—only shadows and silence.

Someone nudged the person beside them.

"What do you think is happening in there?" the man asked.

The other shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe they’re just talking. Or Lord Elias is deciding what to do next."

Another voice, anxious, broke in. "Do you think Veran will be spared?"

A quiet murmur spread through the crowd.

Just the thought made some of them uneasy.

Kael’s death had broken the slave imprint and set them free. They had celebrated because it meant the nightmare was finally over.

But Veran...

Veran had been worse.

Kael was a slaver—but Veran was a monster.

If Kael had chained them, Veran had scarred them.

Though the celebration was real, no one felt safe as long as Veran still lived.

A woman whispered, "If he’s allowed to live... then nothing really changed."

Another nodded grimly. "He smiled when we screamed."

A burly man growled, "He beat me just for sneezing while carrying a sack of flour."

The murmurs grew louder, angrier. The air was thick with rising tension.

Then a young man, no older than twenty, raised his voice.

"What are we even questioning?" he said. "Lord Elias is a just man! He took us in when we had nothing. He fed us. Sheltered us. He killed Kael and set us free."

He pointed toward the building.

"You think he’d let Veran walk? That’s not who he is."

Another voice joined in, louder. "He would never let that animal live."

"Death to Veran!" someone shouted.

"Death to Veran!"

Voices followed, growing into a chant.

"Death to Veran! Death to Veran!"

The chant grew louder, echoing across the open fields.

But then, a rough voice cut through the noise.

"Death?" the man spat. "You think death is enough?"

He held up his hand, pointing to an ugly scar on the back of it—jagged, deep, like it had been carved with a knife.

"He did this. Just because I dropped a bucket."

"Death’s too easy for him."

The crowd fell silent.

A bitter, heavy silence.

And yet, even with their growing anger, no one moved toward the building. No one tried to force their way inside. No one dared to interrupt.

Because deep down, they all knew.

No matter how loud they shouted...

No matter how deep their hatred ran...

Only one man had the right to decide Veran’s fate.

Lord Elias.

---

Back in the room...

Silence hung thick in the air.

The interrogation was over.

Elias sat completely still, brow furrowed, fingers steepled in front of his mouth as he stared at the floor, lost in thought.

Across from him, Veran slumped in his chair—soaked in sweat, barely breathing, but still alive... for now.

"Arcane Race..."

Elias muttered the words under his breath like a curse.

He had questioned Veran about what had happened that left their group in such a battered state before they reached his territory?

Veran’s answer sent a chill down his spine.

A slave had broken free from the slave imprint.

But not just any slave—one from the Arcane Race.

Elias’s head tilted slightly.

He hadn’t heard that name before.

And that was strange.

Back on Earth, when he played Emperor’s Dominion, he had come across dozens of races—each with their own backstories, evolutions, stat systems, and types of magic.

Of course, he hadn’t memorized every detail, but anything important... anything powerful... he would have remembered.

And the way Veran had described them?

They had to be important.

So why didn’t he remember a thing?

That left him with two possibilities.

Either this race didn’t exist in the game at all and was unique to this world...

Or it had been hidden—locked behind progression walls so deep that no player had ever reached them.

Neither option sat well with Elias.

According to Veran, the Arcane were once an ancient race of ethereal beings. They had no physical body—only soul and energy. Their most terrifying ability? They could absorb the souls of others... and forge them into weapons.

Living weapons.

Their rise in power had been so dangerous that the other major races—who normally fought each other—had united just to bring them down.

And they nearly succeeded.

Most of the Arcane were wiped out during what Veran called The Sealing War.

The survivors scattered—hidden, but not idle.

Veran claimed they blended into other races, possessing bodies and living in secret, slowly gathering information.

They were called Arcane Spies.

Capturing one wasn’t just rare—it was highly rewarded. If it was a high-ranking member, you could even earn a title.

Veran’s group had been transporting slaves through Embergrove Forest when they encountered a warrior woman. A human. Possessed by one of the Arcane.

They fought her—and barely won.

But the cost was heavy. She had been incredibly powerful.

And clever.

In the end, she severed a piece of her soul—the part bound by the slave imprint—breaking the control placed on her.

Freeing herself.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢