A pitch-black space, devoid of even a sliver of light. The only illumination came from the aura of fire enveloping Aquila’s sword, revealing a sight so horrific it was difficult to put into words.

A cramped room, barely large enough for three grown men to lie down pressed together, with no windows, no ventilation. And inside, eight children huddled close, pressed against each other.

“You….”

They had a distinctive appearance—ornate features. The unmistakable traits of Arkons that I had grown familiar with over my six years in the Border Defense Army.

The sudden light seemed to startle them. The children looked up at us with wide, frightened eyes before quickly turning their heads, dazzled by the brightness. I took in their appearances in a single sweep.@@novelbin@@

Emaciated bodies, as if they hadn’t eaten properly in a long time. Ragged, tattered clothing. Matted hair, unwashed for who knows how long. And bruises, scars littering their skin….

Whether they had been used for experiments or subjected to forced labor, one thing was certain—they had been abused for an extended period. Scratches marred the walls, deep grooves dug by fingernails.

Was that the sound I heard?

I wasn’t entirely sure what had called us here, but whatever it was, it had clearly been born from these children’s suffering.

Karon…

The memory of Karon, smiling brightly as he nonchalantly confessed to being used by a dark sorcerer, flashed through my mind. My jaw clenched involuntarily.

So this was it?

After going through something this cruel, he could still smile like that and follow my orders without hesitation?

A furious disgust welled up in me—rage at this world that treated Arkons like disposable tools, to be used and discarded at will.

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