Building An Empire Starting From The Labor Camp In Exile-Chapter 145: New trouser
Frexon led him through the portal to the Scuffed Bones fortress. They appeared just before the dark fortress that was covered in a gloomy air. It was smaller than typical castles, built purely for functionality.
Thick dark walls surrounded them, etched with enchanted words that sparked silver against the surface. Around them, Atrox saw people in black armor coming and going from the smaller barracks surrounding the fortress.
A black flag with a skull fluttered gently atop the battlements.
And it’s not only barracks he saw, there were also buildings that were used for different purposes. Like the alchemists own he saw and the one for merchants. There’s also a big warehouse that soon in one corner.
"Come on," Frexon said, leading him forward toward the main building.
Atrox glanced around as he followed behind. The atmosphere here was dark and gloomy, but the people didn’t seem to mind, as if they expected nothing less.
Above, the sky was darker than usual, and the sun seemed reluctant to shine on them. Atrox shook his head. ’There must be a high-level artifact in this place... a protective barrier of some kind?’
Contrary to his expectations, it wasn’t only Knights he saw walking around. In fact, he saw all ranks—from normal humans to Squires, Knights, and even a few Errant Knights, though the Errants were much fewer in number.
All of them stared at Atrox, not only because he was almost naked and covered in soot but because the news of the Knight who killed all the prisoners below had spread. It had also connected with the "crazy" Knight who caused trouble in the second layer.
Frexon turned, noticing the stares, and said to him, "You’re becoming infamous. They haven’t seen anyone this crazy in years." 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂
Atrox nodded, scowling when Frexon added, "Usually, the crazy ones are already dead by now. We’re here."
They entered the building and stepped into the hall. It was even gloomier inside, perhaps because there was nothing of value there.
On one side was a grand staircase, and on the other was a throne-like chair on a slightly raised platform. Atrox was familiar with such setups, though in his father’s place, the hall was many times larger than this one.
The hall was silent and empty, but when Frexon approached the throne, he stopped and straightened before bowing. "I have brought him here, Master Sevrix."
Just as Atrox began to suspect that Frexon might have sneaked a drink on the way here, the darkness around the throne thickened, and the gloomy air seemed to condense in one spot.
The figure of a man quickly outlined itself on the chair, his cold eyes locking on Atrox. "You have done well, Frexon."
Frexon bowed again and then stepped to the side, leaving Atrox alone before the Flagbearer—a Master Knight.
Atrox observed him: thin black hair, a long nose, and a slender frame. The man looked ordinary, but he felt anything but.
The eyes fixed on Atrox felt dark and alien, as though something inhuman was gazing at him. It stilled the air in his lungs.
At the Master Knight rank, Knights began to turn immortal, gaining something that transcended humanity. It was as if they were fusing with something those below their level couldn’t comprehend.
Atrox felt the weight of the stare, as if steel chains had been placed around his neck, pressing him to bow and confess to things he didn’t even know.
’What the...!!’ Alarm coursed through him. ’Is this essence pressure too? What kind of aura is this... suppression... direct domination?!!’
Quickly, Atrox remembered his encounter with the monster and mentally connected with the Order mark without showing it.
The oppressive aura on him lessened considerably, as though a shield now existed between them.
Atrox bowed out of his own will. "Master Sevrix."
No matter how one looked at it, the position of a Master Knight was one to be respected. For most, it was the pinnacle of aspiration.
Sevrix’s eyes sharpened, becoming colder and more distant. "So you are Atrox, the one who killed my man."
Atrox paused, trying to determine if that was a question. He answered carefully, "I did. After he killed my man."
"Indeed. And now you are here," Sevrix replied.
Atrox stiffened. "I only did what I had to do."
The air around him turned heavier, more melancholic, as Sevrix said, "Isn’t that what everyone does? We all do what we must. But what if what you must do crosses what I must do?"
’Shit...’ Atrox hesitated, his heartbeat quickening. "I move out of the way?"
Sevrix watched him silently, and after a few seconds, Atrox looked away from those cold eyes.
"Wrong," Sevrix finally said.
"You get crushed."
Suddenly, coldness enveloped Atrox, making his hair stand on end. Without thinking, he whirled around, fire formations already forming in his mind.
But the rotted hand that grew from the ground struck like a viper, gripping him by the throat.
It lifted him as though he weighed nothing. Air was cut off from his throat, and pain lanced through his body. His eyes reddened, and his vision blurred.
’I’m going to die!’ The thought pierced his foggy mind. A formation quickly took shape, and red fire erupted around him, a towering wave cracking the air with shimmering heat.
The rotted hand resisted for an instant before disintegrating in the flames. It burned away, dropping Atrox into the fire he had created.
He coughed hard, tasting blood. His breaths came in painful gasps.
Sevrix watched coldly from his throne. "So that’s the red fire. That’s not Elemental. No wonder you managed to burn that away."
Atrox wanted to form a spear of fire and hurl it at Sevrix or unleash a wave to drown the room in flames. But he wasn’t that desperate—or foolish—yet.
He shook his head and picked himself up from the floor, rasping, he took a deep breath and said with a rough voice. "I’m going to need a new pair of trousers."
