Forbidden: Max level warrior

"

Let's not waste time on ceremony. You came to see power. Well, I'm standing here. Ready when you are."

Avera's brows furrowed, but she kept her composure. "I didn't come to fight you, Ann Zero. I came to evaluate you. If you are truly what the rumors say—if you're a demon, a threat to humanity—it is my duty to assess that. But if you force our hand... I will strike."

Ann tilted his head. "Tell me, Avera. Have you ever seen a demon this handsome?"

She blinked. Her composure faltered for a brief moment.

Ann grinned. "Exactly."

Avera's voice tightened. "Are you suggesting the rumors are false?"

"Not at all," Ann replied. "The title of 'Demon Lord' is real. But being one doesn't mean I'm hellspawn tearing through villages. It's... more complicated."

"Then explain," she demanded. "You have no noble blood. No history. You're not a knight, an adventurer, a court mage—yet according to rumors you wield power and wealth that puts most of us to shame. How can we trust you?"

"I don't owe you trust," Ann said calmly. "I owe no one an explanation. If my words aren't enough, then nothing will be."

"You're defying the royal knights," she said.

Ann shrugged. "There's nothing royal about a pack of dogs in armor who obey nobility like slaves. You call it justice—but I've seen what your justice ignores. Peasants, children, the weak. You protect titles, not people."

Avera's jaw tightened.

She wanted to argue—but deep down, part of her agreed.

She had seen noble corruption. She had been born into a fading noble house, clawing to survive among vultures. Ann's words weren't wrong. They were just dangerous.

"So you're refusing compliance?" she asked coldly.

"Compliance?" Ann echoed. "You mean hand myself over as a prisoner? Stop interfering with the Warden's slave trade? Turn a blind eye while girls and children vanish across borders? Tell me, Commander—does your crown benefit from that?"

Avera's voice cracked. "What are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm stating facts."

He tossed her a scroll and a folded parchment.

She caught it, opened it—and paled.

A detailed map. Trafficking routes. Hidden camps. Names. Dates. Cargo manifests.

"These," Ann said, "are where Malric sells humans. To foreign nations. The routes, the buyers, everything. You asked for proof. Now you have it."

Avera's hand trembled.

"And if you still call me the threat," Ann said, "then maybe you're part of it."

Silence lingered between them. One of Avera's captains stepped forward.

"He's manipulating us," the knight said. "These marked sites—all within noble territory. Off-limits to commoners. He's using us to do his dirty work."

Avera didn't respond immediately.

Then she spoke clearly. "We have time. And if what he's saying is true, it's worth checking. Slavery and trafficking are crimes of the highest order in the Scarlet-Flame Kingdom."

She turned to Ann. "If this is false—you'll answer to us."

Ann smiled. "Then go see for yourself."

He handed her a second recording device.

"Use this. Record everything. If what I gave you is a lie—feel free to drag me to the throne yourself."

Avera mounted her steed. "We'll be back."

Night blanketed the sky as Skarn and Lilly approached the village she once called home. Lanterns glowed faintly in the windows, but the streets were quiet, suffocated by fear and silence.

Villagers peered out from behind curtains as the enormous silver beast padded into the square. Behind him, Lilly walked with her hood up and her eyes forward.

She stopped before the village head's hall and knocked.

A wrinkled man with weary eyes opened the door. He froze.

"L-Lilly?"

She nodded. "We need to talk. Inside."

He hesitated, but one look at Skarn behind her broke any resistance.

Inside, she pulled out the recording device and placed it on the table.

"I'm not here to blame anyone," she said. "I'm here to ask for the truth."

The headman's lips trembled. "You don't understand... we had no choice."

"Then tell me."

He started slowly—then the dam broke.

Malric's men had come with threats and bags of sulver coin. Every season, they demanded more: girls, orphans, unwanted children. Promised jobs. Promised security. But none ever returned.

"We knew what we were doing," he whispered. "But we didn't know what they were *doing* to them. And if we refused... they said they'd raze the whole village."

The door creaked open. More villagers entered. Women. Parents. Elders.

They added their voices—some ashamed, others desperate to be heard.

Lilly pressed record.

As she watched, something hardened inside her. A fire that had once been fear... now turned to quiet fury.

Skarn stood at the door, silent, watching everything.

By midnight, the full confession had been given. Words. Names. Tears.

Lilly stood.

"Thank you."

She stepped out into the cold wind. Skarn joined her.

"Let's go home," she whispered.

Together, they vanished into the shadows, the truth burning in her hands.

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