Dark Warlock in the Apocalypse

Chapter 137 137

Maxwell's eyes flared as he recognized a familiar face among the slaves. He had thought he would never see him again after what happened on Earth. The memories of their past conflict surged through his mind, and his eyes narrowed.

Whack!

"Ugh!" Travis groaned, the sharp pain in his head overwhelming him as Derek's irritated voice followed.

"Who told you to glare like that? I told you to keep your head down, even in front of commoners, didn't I? Do it right."

Travis barely managed to steady himself, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Maxwell's dumbfounded expression. The shame coursing through him was unbearable. Of all people, he couldn't let Maxwell see him like this. He had treated Maxwell like dirt, always acting superior to him. To show him this humiliating side was the worst possible scenario.

"Arghhh!!"

Thud!

Travis, like a wild beast, let out a furious scream and swung his fist at Derek with all his might. His exhausted body, combined with the overwhelming humiliation, drove him to act purely on instinct.

As the impact of his punch rang out, time seemed to freeze. Everyone around them stood still, unsure of what had just happened. Even Derek, the one who had been hit, looked momentarily bewildered.

"You... you just hit me?" Derek asked in disbelief.

"I... I..." Travis stammered.

"That's strange. I've shown you plenty of people dying in front of you. Why would you act like this?"

"Aaaahhh!"

Travis, gripped by fear and rage, lost all sense of reason and began swinging his fists at Derek wildly. Despite his tired state, each punch was surprisingly sharp, but Derek's expression remained calm.

At the moment when one of Travis's punches landed on Derek's chest, there was a sickening crack.

"Ah! My hand!" Travis screamed, clutching his fingers.

"Tsk, it seems like you hurt your hand. That's why I told you to punch properly. If you don't, you'll be the one who gets injured," Derek said with a sigh. Even after being struck several times, he remained completely unfazed.

When Travis lifted his eyes, trembling, he saw that Derek hadn't suffered a single injury. No matter how hard Travis had hit him, his blows had done nothing.

"Please, spare me..." Travis begged, fear flooding his voice.

Smash!

Derek's fist connected with Travis's face, and that was the end. Travis collapsed to the ground, unmoving. It wasn't until a moment later that those around him realized he had died from just one punch—his face was completely caved in.

"Damn, did he lose his mind from the stress? I should probably go easier on them," Derek muttered casually.

"...Tsk."

Emily clicked her tongue, clearly disappointed in Elliot's response.

Without any further conversation, they reached the entrance of the castle and entered the conference room. The grandeur of the interior left both Elliot and Maxwell struggling to hold back their gasps of awe.

"Lord, Elliot and Maxwell are here," Emily announced.

"Let them in."

At the lord's brief command, the door to the conference room opened. The sight that greeted them left both Elliot and Maxwell speechless. Dressed in a pitch-black robe, holding a strange staff, and with a small dragon perched on his shoulder, the lord—Justin—looked like an evil sorcerer straight out of a fairy tale.

With cold eyes, Justin gazed at them before speaking to Maxwell.

"Sit there."

"Th-Thank you," Maxwell stammered, bowing his head.

"Thank you," Elliot echoed, lowering his head as well.

As the two men moved to sit at the far end of the conference room, Justin's gaze shifted to Elliot.

"Who told you to sit?"

"W-What? I'm sorry," Elliot stuttered, quickly standing up.

"Who told you to stand?"

"S-Sorry...?"

Elliot's knees buckled, and he awkwardly sank back down.

"Who told you to sit?"

"..."

"Who told you to stand?"

"..."

Caught in a state of indecision, unable to either sit or stand, Elliot squeezed his eyes shut in frustration.

This is a disaster.