Chapter 24: Human Traffickers

At the other end of the clearing, near a leeward rock wall, several bonfires were burning.

Flickering flames cast distorted shadows of about a dozen figures sitting around them.

They were surrounded by the sounds of crude laughter, the thud of clashing waterskins, and the constant *smack, smack* of chewing.

The air was thick with the scent of low-quality tobacco, sweat, and a faint, intermittent whimpering.

Shifting focus to the corners untouched by firelight, several cages made of rough iron bars and rotten wood were stacked together.

Within them, smaller shadows could be seen huddled together.

Their identity was already self-evident.

Celia’s brow furrowed.

She lowered her voice and asked, “What kind of path is this? Why did we run into people like this?”

Onyxia watched the group as well.

She shrugged, her voice barely a whisper.

“How should I know? Maybe the map they’re using is the same one I bought on the Black Market.” She changed the subject. “Besides, shouldn’t we be discussing how to rescue those people in the cages right now?”

“I know, obviously,” Celia replied.

Before her voice even trailed off, she stepped out from the hiding shadows and walked straight toward the camp.

“Hey!”

Onyxia reached out instinctively, but her fingers only brushed the hem of the other woman’s clothes.

She hissed urgently, “By yourself? Can you handle it?”

Celia did not break her stride.

“Do you want Ilyas to follow us into danger? Keep an eye on her. Besides, you have a misunderstanding of an adult Dark Elf’s strength.”

Onyxia’s brow creased slightly as she watched the figure disappear into the darkness.

Just then, Ilyas’s voice drifted over from beside her.

“Miss Onyxia, don’t worry.”

She gently tugged on Onyxia’s sleeve.

“Back then… Celia was the one who rescued me from an entire squad of fully armed Rose Knights.”

Hearing Ilyas’s words didn’t smooth Onyxia’s brow; instead, it tightened further.

She knew Celia wasn’t weak, but succeeding once in the past was a different matter from being able to walk away unscathed every time — especially when the enemy’s numbers were unknown and she was the one initiating the attack.

“That was then, but now the situation is different,” Onyxia whispered back, her eyes still locked on Celia.

A second later, she made a decision.

She reached back and gripped Ilyas’s wrist, her tone brook no argument.

“Stay close to me and don’t make a sound.”

“But Celia told us to wait here…”

Ilyas whispered nervously.

“So what?”

Onyxia was already moving, pulling her along.

“She can say what she wants; that’s her business. What I choose to do is mine.”

On the other side, Celia had already reached the edge of the camp.

“Good evening,” her voice wasn’t loud, yet it reached the ears of every human trafficker clearly.

“Everyone seems to be having such a lively time. Do you mind if I join you?”

The crude laughter by the bonfires stopped abruptly.

Seven or eight pairs of eyes glared at her simultaneously, filled with shock, which was quickly replaced by ferocity and greed.

After a brief, deathly silence, a series of *clangs* rang out.

Blades were drawn, crossbows were leveled, and every trafficker still capable of moving grabbed their gear, forming a loose semicircle to surround her.

“Where did this bitch come from? You looking to die?”

A burly man with a face full of scars spat on the ground and stepped forward with a cleaver.

“Hold on.”

A seasoned, steady voice stopped him.

The speaker was a middle-aged man sitting at the innermost part of the firelight.

A hideous scar ran across his face.

He stood up slowly, his gaze pinned on Celia.

“…A Dark Elf,” Scarface muttered the words slowly, his voice laced with heavy wariness.

He raised a hand, halting his restless underlings.

He took a deep breath as if making a difficult decision and took two steps forward, spreading his hands to show he had no weapon for the moment.

“My Dark Elf friend… a midnight visit usually isn’t for drinks and conversation. Let’s be blunt. What do you want?”

He paused, and without waiting for Celia’s answer, his gaze swept over the cages.

He gritted his teeth and said in a low voice, “We can release this entire haul. Every last one. All I ask is that you… show mercy and give my brothers a path to live. How about it? We’ll leave immediately and guarantee we won’t look back.”

As soon as Scarface finished his proposal, one of his subordinates, a burly man reeking of alcohol, couldn’t take it anymore.

He brandished his cleaver and bared a mouthful of yellow teeth.

Spitting as he shouted, he cried, “Boss, why bother talking to this girl? There are so many of us and she’s just one woman! What’s there to be afraid of? Let’s tie her up and give the boys some fun!”

“Idiot! Shut up!”

Scarface barked at him, the veins on his forehead throbbing.

He hissed in a low voice, “Look closely! That’s a Dark Elf! She’s not one of those little toys from the woods you can just push around!”

“So what if she’s a Dark Elf?”

Another tall, skinny man licked his lips, his lecherous eyes roaming over the curves of Celia’s body.

His voice was filled with a nauseating excitement.

“So her ears are a bit pointier? Look at that figure… *tsk tsk*. She’s much more exciting than those green things in the cages. Boss, let’s take her down and let the brothers have a little taste…”

Right then, a sudden change occurred!

With no warning at all, a cluster of flames suddenly erupted from the skinny man’s body!

The flames seemed to have a life of their own, instantly spreading across his hair and even the patterns of his skin!

“Argh — !!!”

A shrill, inhuman scream tore through the silence of the night.

The lecherous smile on his face was twisted into a mask of extreme pain and terror.

He flailed his arms, slapping at his body in a desperate attempt to extinguish the eerie fire, but the flames seemed to feed on his very life force.

The more he swatted, the more fiercely they burned.

The sound of crackling flesh filled the air.

It all happened too fast, taking place in only two or three breaths.

The rest of the traffickers were frozen in terror, scrambling backward in a panic.

They knocked over waterskins and kicked apart the bonfires, sending sparks flying everywhere.

They looked at the horrific figure of their companion writhing in the flames, and then peered suspiciously at the dark woods around them, their faces written with dread.

Scarface’s pupils shrank as he roared, “Ambush! There’s someone else! Form up! Back to back!”

At the exact moment the chaos and terror reached their peak, Celia moved.

She didn’t look at the burning wretch, nor did she look toward the direction where Onyxia was likely hiding, even though she knew it was her companion’s doing.

Celia had a clear target: the burly man who had first drawn his blade, currently dazed by the sudden turn of events.

She was too fast.

In the flickering firelight and elongated shadows, she left behind only a blurred afterimage.

A chilling flash of cold light erupted from her hand.

The sword light flashed and vanished.

Before the ferocity on the burly man’s face could even turn into shock, his head had already left his neck.

It spun upward into the air amidst a fountain of crimson mist.

“The first one.”