"Well then... Esdeath, let's go."
Since her objective had already been achieved, there was no point in staying any longer to watch those parasites amuse themselves. Selene immediately took Esdeath with her and prepared to leave.
Along the way, watching Esdeath obediently following behind her, Selene couldn't resist the urge to tease her. Taking advantage of the added height from her high-heeled boots, she lifted the girl up with one hand, holding her in front of her face, and pinched her small cheeks.
"Huh? You're not resisting?"
Seeing Selene's somewhat surprised expression, Esdeath replied with an emotionless face, "The strong dominate the weak. I can't defeat you. You're stronger than me, so naturally, I am your spoils of war. Why would I resist?"
Uh... Hearing Esdeath's response, Selene was momentarily speechless, then smacked her forehead. Right. Environment shapes perspective.
After all, Esdeath had been taught the law of the jungle since childhood.
On the Empire's frontier, there was no concept of innocence—only strength and weakness. Today you kill me, tomorrow I kill you. The law of survival of the fittest was displayed in its purest form.
And with the final "lesson" from her father at the moment of his death—both words and example—Esdeath had solidified her own worldview.
The strong possess everything. The weak eat dust.
Selene shook her head lightly, set Esdeath back down, and gestured for her to follow as they exited the noble banquet.
"Please wait, Lady Selene."
"What is it?" Selene frowned slightly at the hotel attendant rushing over.
"Baron Rex, Viscount Laurie, Lord Sidney, and Sir Albert have invited you to tonight's 'hunting' banquet."
The instant she heard those names again, Selene's eyes turned cold. Taking a deep breath, she spoke as calmly as she could to the messenger, "Tell them to get lost. I don't have time to play their little games."
That was Selene being polite. She knew the attendant was merely a messenger and didn't deserve her wrath.
With that, she turned and left. As far as she was concerned, those nobles were already dead men. None of them would escape. When I don't show my fangs, they really think I'm docile, huh?
Beside her, Esdeath was visibly puzzled. Following behind, she asked curiously, "Commander Selene, isn't it just a hunting banquet? Back in the northern territories, I went hunting almost every day. Why are you so angry?"
"Their kind of 'hunting' isn't what you're used to," Selene replied as they walked through the bustling streets of the Imperial Capital.
"You really want to know?"
"Mm."
"Then... see for yourself." Selene extended one finger and lightly touched Esdeath's forehead.
In the next instant, Esdeath felt herself transported to a massive estate surrounded by towering walls. Her body had become ethereal, like a soul floating in midair, looking down at a vast lawn below.
"See for yourself. I have nothing more to say about such disgusting behavior." Selene's voice echoed in her mind.
At that moment, in the hotel's private 'hunting ground,' a group of nobles was preparing for the highlight of tonight's festivities. Among them were men and women, young and old alike.
Every one of them was someone of rank and power.
Following their gaze, Esdeath saw a wide 'racecourse.' Dozens of nobles sat atop tall horses, twisted grins on their faces as they charged toward the terrified 'prey' desperately fleeing through the manor grounds.
"Hahahaha! Run! Run for your lives! Let's see how long you can last!"
And the prey they hunted... were living humans.
The people fleeing were emaciated, faces full of terror. Barefoot, dressed in nothing but thin, tattered rags.
The nobles on horseback brandished long blades, their gazes sweeping over the victims—not as one would look at another human, but as hunters look upon their quarry.
Judging by their varied skin tones and foreign features, they were clearly slaves seized from border territories. Different in face and build from Imperial citizens—but human nonetheless.
Of course, the nobles didn't see them that way. To them, these people were nothing more than helpless prey.
They hunted for sport, not survival.
The people fleeing were all thin and frail, clearly lacking strength. But even if they were fit, what could they do against galloping warhorses? It was a hopeless farce.
"The first one!" A nobleman spurred his horse forward, catching up to a frail man. Without hesitation, he swung his blade down and decapitated him.
The threat of death ignited the survivors' primal instincts.
They wished they had two more pairs of legs—if they couldn't outrun the horses, then at least they could outrun the others. But that, too, was just a fantasy. The nobles rode their prized steeds, cutting down the helpless "prey" one after another, reaping lives like harvesters in a field.
"The second one!"
"The third one!"
"The... ninth one!" This time, after slaying a young girl, one noble proudly admired the blood dripping from his blade.
"Well then, who will be the tenth?" he muttered, his eyes gleaming as he looked around in anticipation of his next "lucky prize."
"Oh! It's a little girl!" The noble finally spotted his next target.
Even this man, who had just slain a girl without blinking, was momentarily captivated by the child's appearance.
She had long, rare pink hair. Though small and covered in dirt, his lustful eyes—trained by years of depravity—could tell instantly that she was destined to grow into a great beauty.
The noble swallowed greedily, a feverish heat spreading through his body. With a vile grin, he dismounted and began walking toward the girl, step by step.
In his mind, vivid images already formed of how he would defile her.
The little girl tried to run, trembling with fear, but her strength was spent from all the fleeing. After stumbling backward a few steps, she tripped and fell hard onto the grass.
"My sweet little beauty, I'll take good care of you, love—"
"Argh!" The nobleman screamed mid-sentence.
Panicking, the girl had snatched a stone from the grass and hurled it wildly—striking the noble squarely in the corner of his eye.
He hadn't expected her to fight back. Blindsided, he clutched his bleeding eye in shock. The laughter of his peers stung worse than the wound.
All his life, he had hunted others—never once had he been struck back. Now, mocked by his fellow nobles, his shame turned instantly to fury. All thoughts of "raising her properly" or "savoring her beauty" vanished.
"I'll kill you!" he roared, raising his sword high and bringing it down toward the girl's arm.
The child shut her eyes tightly in despair. There was nothing she could do but wait for death. In her heart, she prayed desperately—
Father, Mother, gods above... whoever you are, please, save me...
But the world was merciless.
The noble gripped his sword with both hands, the polished edge glinting under the sun as he angled it toward the girl's delicate neck. With a savage shout, he swung—