Devil Slave (Satan system)

Chapter 1191: His Aura

The air was filled with anticipation, and a charged silence fell over the crowd, broken only by scattered murmurs and the rustling of garments as everyone leaned forward, eyes trained on the arena’s entrance.

Then, with a thunderous blare, a trumpet resounded across the grounds, its powerful echo cutting through the quiet like a blade, and signaling the arrival of the royal family. Cheers erupted from every corner, the crowd’s excitement spilling into a near frenzy as the procession made its way forward.

Leading the entourage was the Queen herself, a vision of timeless grace. Despite her years, her beauty was undeniable, a testament to both her heritage and the essence of creation magic that flowed through her veins. Her gown was a masterpiece, woven from enchanted silks that shimmered like captured starlight, every stitch a tapestry of the high elves’ storied history. Tiny crystal flowers, hand-formed and glowing softly with hues of dawn and twilight, adorned her long, flowing sleeves, and a diadem of twisted gold and emerald leaves rested upon her brow, marking her as the mother of their people. She rode in a carriage crafted from silverwood, ethereal and shining with a delicate aura, pulled by a pair of silver-skinned horses whose hooves never touched the ground, gliding instead as if borne on the wind itself.

Behind her walked Luca, the Queen’s grandson, resplendent in attire that exuded strength and poise. His white hair flowed freely, a stark contrast to his deep green tunic embroidered with the family’s crest, and his gaze held a calm confidence.

The crowd’s enthusiasm swelled at the sight of him, with young elf maidens shouting his name, hands raised in the hope of catching his attention. Whispers rippled through the onlookers of his recent feats in battle and his unmatched skill in the arcane arts, each rumor growing grander in admiration. His two wives followed closely, clad in robes woven with shimmering threads and delicate patterns of vines and blossoms, each one a reflection of the elegance and strength expected of high elven royalty.

Trailing them were Luca’s children, Nate and his siblings, each dressed in intricate garb that reflected their heritage and status. They walked with heads held high, radiating youthful energy and beauty that drew cries and cheers from the audience. Some spectators called out Nate’s name in hopes of catching his eye, while others praised the siblings’ prowess and handsomeness, proclaiming their admiration openly.

At the rear of the procession, walking with a calm and unhurried pace, was Enel. With his red hair, peppered with white.

His presence was met with a very different response—mockery and disdain rippled through the crowd, their whispers and sneers like sharp stones cast in his path.

Compared to the refined beauty of his siblings, Enel seemed almost ordinary, his features marked by the ruggedness of his non-elf blood. Murmurs spread like wildfire, with some in the crowd whispering that he was a stain on the royal family, unworthy of the honor to stand among them. Others brazenly muttered that he should never have set foot on this day, that he should "dig a hole and die," while a few rolled their eyes and looked away with scorn.

Yet, beneath the jeers, a reluctant undercurrent of respect flickered among them, for none could deny his feat of bringing down a mutant crow a few years ago—a beast so fearsome that even seasoned warriors dared not face it.

This was a testament to Enel’s strength, but it did little to soften their disdain. He bore the insults in silence, his face expressionless, his steps steady and unwavering.

Together, they moved through the winding streets lined with cheering citizens, through grand arches adorned with floating lights, toward the heart of the arena. It was here, amidst the divided sentiments of their people, that the future would be decided, and as the royal family made their way forward, a charged tension hung in the air, as if even the city itself held its breath, waiting.

Perseus and his small group of werewolves moved carefully through the packed crowd, their hooded figures blending seamlessly into the throng of onlookers. The scent of sweat and excitement filled the air, and Perseus’s eyes were trained forward, searching. He knew the treasure they sought would be well-guarded, and there was no place more fortified than near the Queen herself. If anyone held what he was after, it would be her.

But just as they drew closer to the royal procession as it entered the arena, Perseus felt a tug on his arm. Tomato, her face half-hidden beneath her hood, had a focused, intense look on her face. She sniffed the air deeply, as though tracking something.

"Do you smell it?" she asked in a low voice, her gaze distant and fixed on something only she could sense.

Perseus sighed, an edge of irritation flashing across his face. "Tomato, if this is about food, you’re out of luck. No eating until the mission is finished. Understand?"

She shot him an exasperated look. "It’s not about food, you bonehead," she hissed. "I’m talking about... him."

Perseus raised an eyebrow, interest suddenly piqued. "Him?"

Tomato’s gaze softened, her voice lowering to almost a whisper. "I can’t sense magic like you or the others. But there’s one person whose essence I can feel, even in the midst of all this. He’s the only one I’ll ever recognize, the one who made me who I am, using his own power, his own soul. And right now—I can smell it."

Perseus’s eyes brightened with understanding. He knew exactly who she was talking about. Hope surged within him. "Where?" he asked eagerly, his voice tense with anticipation.

Tomato’s hand lifted, pointing towards the procession. "There. Behind the Queen."

Without hesitation, Perseus surged forward, pushing his way to the front of the crowd for a clearer look. His gaze locked onto the royal family, his eyes searching, scanning each face. Just as he was about to focus on the Queen, he was drawn to Luca’s intense, piercing gaze. Their eyes met, and Perseus felt a shock—a familiarity, a powerful aura emanating from Luca that took him off guard. For a brief moment, they stared at each other, something unspoken passing between them, as though each recognized something of the other.

Lost in the intensity of the moment, Perseus missed Tomato’s finger shifting, pointing farther back in the procession.

At the same time, Enel, walking at the rear of the royal family, had caught Tomato’s scent as well. His gaze fell on her, his lips curving into a peculiar, knowing smile. With a single finger raised to his lips, he motioned for her silence as he passed by, a gesture so subtle it went unnoticed by the crowd.

Tomato froze, her eyes widening, unable to tear her gaze from his face. She felt her heartbeat skip, a strange sensation twisting within her as he whispered something—words too soft for anyone else to hear. But her ears, sharpened by a long time of familiarity, caught them.

At that instant, a strange warmth spread through her, and she dropped to her knees, clutching her chest, overwhelmed by the intensity of what she felt. A faint, silvery glow illuminated the mark of the Lenny family on her skin, unseen by all but the faintest shimmer in her eyes.

Unaware of the significance of what had just transpired, the crowd surged around her, lost in their cheers and jeers for the royals, and the procession continued into the arena.