NOVEL WEB Chapter 79: To Find an Escort
Behind the armed gunman stood an elven priest, her long silver hair tied in a neat braid that still swayed gently with each movement. She clutched a wooden staff that curled with natural patterns, faint green light pulsing from the vines wrapped around it. On the other side towered a heavily armored tank — a mountain of metal.
He wore pure titanium from head to toe, the polished surface reflecting even the dim light of the alley. His shield and sword matched the same imposing design, both marked with scratches from battles survived rather than lost.
They looked like the kind of naive but skilled elite adventurers who had just wandered into the wrong place at the wrong time.
"What the…?" The gunman's eyes swept the area, taking in the rusted cages stacked against the walls and the hunched figures inside. The smell of filth and dried blood made the truth obvious — this was a slave hub.
What unsettled him more wasn't just the place, but the noise. The slaves were shouting… no, begging Corven to kill the man he had pinned on the ground.
"I–is he… healing from a silver gunshot to the heart?" the elven priest stammered, her voice thin as she pointed at the unnatural sight.
"The hell have we walked into?" the tank muttered, tightening his grip on his sword.
Corven didn't answer them. He only turned his head slightly, just enough for one crimson eye to catch the faint light and peer at them over his shoulder.
TREMBLE.
The simple glance made their knees weaken. Fear flickered in their eyes like a candle struggling against a gust of wind.
'W–wait, don't leave me!' the slaver screamed in his head, but his crushed throat made it impossible to speak. His breathing was already shallow, blocked by Corven's unyielding foot.
"F–fall back…" the gunman ordered, his voice low as he adjusted his mask.
"It's a vampire! We can't just let it roam free!" the tank barked, his words more bravado than courage.
"We have more pressing matters…" the gunman replied, his tone edged with urgency. Without waiting for agreement, he grabbed the elven priest by the sleeve and pulled her back.
The man wasn't just a gunman — he was also a warlock, the faint glow in his eye making it clear. But unlike the mercenary from before, his pact wasn't purely for combat. It granted him something else — a special eye.
"My Eye of Judgement says… this is a righteous deed," he said, though his voice betrayed his uncertainty.
"What!? Righteous!?" the priest snapped, still trying to process what she was seeing.
"Stop struggling," the gunman growled, dragging both companions away. Before disappearing from sight, he gave Corven the smallest of nods — a silent choice to walk away from a fight they could not win.
His Eye of Judgement had shown him another path: investigate Morhen. The vampire could wait.
Corven's gaze shifted back to the slaver, whose breaths were coming slower now, each one ragged and wet from internal bleeding.
"Up ahead?" Corven's voice was cold. "Then to pay you back for your honesty… I'll let you die slowly instead of torturing you."
"A win's a win, right?" His tone dripped with mockery.
The slaves were not part of that deal.
[Sanguine Manipulation]
With a casual swipe of his index finger, a thin strand of blood uncoiled from his wrist, moving with unnatural precision toward the locks. One by one, the cuffs and cage doors clicked open.
When they were free, every eye turned to the slaver on the ground. Their expressions weren't just hateful — they were hungry for justice.
Corven didn't stop them. He simply turned and left them to their vengeance.
At the far end of the alley, hidden behind more crates, sat a single cage. This one was different — it held only children.
Inside were dwarves, elves, and humans, their clothes in tatters and their eyes dulled by fear. Corven's gaze scanned the group until he found her — a small girl, hunched in a corner, clutching a shabby stuffed toy as if it were the only safe thing left in the world.
'I'm sorry…'
Corven let out a long breath.
As he stepped closer, the children shrank away. To them, he was nothing but a shadow with wings, his skin burnt black and peeling from the sun. Only the gleam of his fangs and the crimson of his eyes stood out in the dim light.
"I–It's a demon!" a boy cried, voice cracking.
The girl he sought didn't scream. She only turned her face away, hugging her toy tighter, as if pretending not to see him would keep her safe.
"I really am not human anymore…" Corven muttered with a humorless laugh. Just knowing she was alive eased a knot in his chest — but relief was quickly replaced by the problem at hand.
How could he bring her back?
He couldn't carry her; his scorched body would harm her. A wooden crate would ignite in his grasp, and while a metal one would be ideal, finding one here was unlikely.
The cage itself was the safest option — but it was risky. A fragile child, recently freed from captivity, might not survive an aerial flight.
Then a thought struck him — the local ruler. After all the suffering caused by his negligence, the man could at least provide a proper escort. Corven would not settle for anything less than the best for her.
"E–excuse me?"
The soft voice came from behind him. A female slave stood there, head bowed, body trembling.
"Do you need something?" Corven asked, turning slightly.
"I–I just wanted to… thank you… for freeing us." Her voice was hesitant, her fear palpable.
"If you want to thank me, then do me a small favor," he said.
Her eyes widened. A "small favor" from a vampire could mean anything — and none of the possibilities seemed good.
"W–what is it…?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"Tell the others to look after the children while I speak to the local ruler. That includes you."
Corven tried to soften his words with a smile, but on his burned, blackened face, it only made him look more wicked. Still, his voice carried sincerity beneath the oppressive aura that made it hard to breathe.
"Y–yes! I'll tell them right away!" she blurted, hurrying toward the group of freed slaves, who were still kicking the slaver's limp body in the dirt.
"I'll be back…" Corven told the children, his voice low but steady.
For the girl in the corner, those three words were enough to make her whisper, almost without realizing—
"Mister…?"