Damien's fingers curled around the heart of an older gentleman with balding hair. The crowd around him abruptly turned quietly horrified. One down, twelve to go.

The knights were quick to react. From the moment he'd killed the first bastard, one of the knights had already slashed at his neck. 

He silently gauged the other's strength. 

Mid-tier, three stars 

A hardened veteran.

Damien raised his sword, deflecting the man's blade. He didn't even need to turn his head, he'd caught the man's movements in his peripheral vision and simply moved accordingly.

Slower than I expected,  He thought. 

He'd long grown accustomed to those physically more capable than him. He almost exclusively trained against people so far above him, like his father and Killian, that he'd been forced to become decent even if he was a lazy cunt most of the time.

Even so...he damn near got his head lopped off. The impact just from redirecting that sword nearly drove his weapon out of his hands. The group he faced in the auction house were one star or two stars at most. Adequate, but not enough to take him on. A group of three stars, though...they were going to be a bit tougher. 

But that didn't stop him. He dropped the heart of his first victim and rolled away from a second knight's attack to his right. Now in a kneeling position, he reached down and pulled out two small blades strapped to his leg and let them fly. They cut through the air like grey flashes of lightning and stabbed into the heads of another pair of would-be slavers.

The whole thing, from start to finish, only took two breaths of time. but by its end the crowd erupted into a panic. Men and women jostled against one another in their bid to run away from the chaotic scene.

 Including his targets. 

And just where the fuck do you think you're going? 

Damien felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise and an instant later three more knights joined the fray, their oncoming swords bearing down on him in perfect unison. 

His heart pounded like a drum in his chest. His eyes glowing a ghastly violet, he felt a trickle of power thrashing about inside him. It grew quickly, an explosion of pure vitality. He gathered it all into his right hand and punched out. 

It was a way in which she hadn't seen it being used before, but Mary recognized its essence. The power of lust. 

Sex demons were a unique race. Feeding on the hot, sexual emotions of living beings and turning that into their source of strength, they dominated using the base desires of others. Right now, Damien naturally employed his bloodline's most basic inbred ability: Pleasure Empowerment. 

The women lucky enough to share his bed these past months now proved their use. Having been fed on, their sexual energies were being used to enhance Damien's physique.

To the point where his fist strike, with his full power behind it, caused a sharp blast of concussive force to barrel towards the three armed men. Almost immediately blood began to pour out of their seven orifices. 

Mary watched impassively as Damien used their pain and surprise to kill another three fleeing slavers.

That wasn't pure force, She pondered. It was almost like one of the Thunderbird race's palm techniques. 

While you could achieve the same result if one was strong enough, it'd only be hitting without the need to hit. Meaning the force of your strike will reach even if your fist doesn't. The difference here, though, is that the force went through. 

The men in front were not knocked back, but they were injured, and the men behind them were the ones who were forced a step backward. Damien's strike didn't stop at the surface, instead all that powers struck past the flesh of those in front and directly rattled their insides, then the remaining force was felt by the men behind.

Muriel's overwhelming power would've torn them apart, limbs and all. This is definitely more refined. When did he learn something like that? 

It surprised her because attacks like these were actually quite rare. High-tier knights used pure strength to launch similar attacks, but this was different. It surpassed all defense. In theory, it was nothing new. But in practice, it was considerably more difficult to reproduce.

As expected, Dragons are in a different league of talent. 

Those of other races could only watch on in envy when even Damien, who was very lazy, was able to so naturally use a move that would take children of races specializing in such attacks years to perfect. 

It's enough to drive one mad. 

It's a shame he was born away from the higher races. He'd have grown so much faster. 

Thinking as much, she watched as he continued to dodge life-threatening attacks with the narrowest of margins.

He knew the danger these men presented and didn't bother to fight head-on. As he was new to the power, he couldn't use the attack he'd unleashed moments ago and so didn't try. Attempting to do so would just leave him feeling drained. Mary inwardly applauded his good judgment. 

Meanwhile, Vera stood in worry.  She silently chastised his mother for being so lazy. Had she taught him of his heritage he'd make quick work of men like these even if he were five years younger.  Dragon Essense was simply that powerful. Relying only on his incubus bloodline was not enough assurance. 

What if he got hurt? Ah, the thought was maddening! These were pretty capable knights, okay? On one hand, she knew he'd never die to people like them...on the other, she didn't like the idea of him in pain. It didn't matter if he could tolerate it. 

She had to close her eyes. She tapped her foot, trying to think of something else. She heard him exclaim, "Fuck!" and her eyes flew open once more. He'd gotten sliced across the side. 

"Be careful, idiot!" She snarled at him. 

"Not helping!" He shouted back, smashing his elbow into the head of that pretty auction lady. He then immediately twisted away from the silvery blade poised to chop away at his arm.

Vera was thoroughly incensed. Bastards! 

Had his mother not sealed their abilities, she'd have wrapped these men in vines and made their insides into outsides. 

Seriously, why does he have to take risks like this? Stupid, careless, heartless idiot!

Mary looked down at her daughter with some amusement. 

 ***

"All this trouble just because you had to be a hero!" Vera's voice, nearly lost in the wind, miraculously reached his ears as they sped away.  It was the second time he'd heard about this from her, and she was perfectly justified. 

But he just scoffed indignantly. "Hero? I just found it an eyesore, let's not pretend I'm some righteous soul. Blame them for being filthy slavers." He rebutted. He disliked her wording, nothing more. He's a troublesome guy, sure, but certainly not a bleeding heart. Hero? Hmph.

"Who are you to judge?" Vera grumbled. "You were going to sell those bandits as slaves, too."

"They fucked around and found out," Damien replied remorselessly. "If they hadn't talked about having their way with you two, I'd have just killed them." He shrugged. "Who told them to be scum?"

"So its okay if you own and sell slaves, but not others?" Vera's tone held a bite, seeming very cross with his hypocrisy. Given that they were currently being chased by a small company of knights through the streets, that was to be expected.

"Of course," He answered very matter-of-factly. "I can trust myself. I'd be a responsible slave owner...everyone else? I've no guarantees. Best not leave them any chances to be cruel, inhumane bastards." He spoke as if this was the most reasonable thing in the world. "See, Vera," He began explaining, "Some people just deserve to be enslaved. And conversely, every slaver other than me deserves to be purged by fire." 

Vera was utterly baffled by his logic. "What kind of nonsensical take is that?!" She all but shrieked. "Doesn't your ass ever get jealous of all the bullshit that comes out of your mouth?"

Pretty sure he's heard her say that line before.

"Can you just let him focus on running?" Her mother asked, annoyed. 

"He's all bloody!" Vera complained. "Its icky and gross."

"You've covered him in thirteen layers of medicinal herbs, he's fine. You're fine. Stop fussing." While most of their abilities were off the table, they were still able to conjure some plants that helped stop bleeding and promote faster healing.

Very spluttered. "I am not fussing," She ground out sullenly. "This is just my duty as--"

The glare from her mother turned her rushed excuse to silence. Instead, she looked down and saw patches of herbs slowly falling off

 "...Another layer or two would be better," She grumbled, patting down the stubborn leaves.

Damien panicked. "Please, don't" He begged. "I already look like an evergreen."

"You're injured." Vera snapped. "It's your fault for rushing in. Who taught you to  be so reckless?"

"Instead of covering me in leaves, can't you just give me a kiss to make it feel better?" 

The girl hit him on his fool head. "Presumptuous!" She sneered. "As if I'd ever do something like that for a bug like you!" She shouted above the wind in their ears. "Why, do you think it would help?" She asked, then mentally kicked herself for saying something so dumb. Obviously it wouldn't help!

Suffice it to say, Vera wasn't thinking rationally. Otherwise, she'd never let slip her concern so openly. Well, when did she ever think rationally when it came to Damien?

"Fuck," Damien cursed. "Every time you open your mouth I love you more and more. Keep it up."

Vera stiffened and pursed lips, her ears turning several shades redder. 

"Hasn't it been too quiet lately?" May suddenly asked. 

They were running around the city with a whole contingent of knights chasing after them just moments ago. Yet now it was quiet. 

Damien looked behind him. "Yeah," He answered slowly. "They're gone..."

 "What happened?" She wondered aloud. "Did the city guard stop them?" She hypothesized.

Damien pondered.  "Yeah probably...After all, the ones chasing us were only the knights hired by the black market. I didn't see any guards mixed in.

"It does make sense, but also not. "Mary knit her brows. "As the host, Valen won't normally stick their nose into the black market's business so it's not a surprise the guard did nothing. But they also shouldn't stop those in the employ of the black market."

He rubbed his chin, then a thought occurred to him.

"Ah...heh" He let out a self-satisfied smile. "I think I know what's going on, then."

"What?" Mary inquired. But just as she asked, she realized it too. With her experience, it wasn't hard to guess. Especially not with the vile grin Damien was letting air out at the moment. 

She sighed. "Please, don't." She mimicked his earlier words.

"Why, Mary, whatever do you mean?" Damien's handsome face held the distinctive aura of a hooligan up to no good.

"Young Master...." She spoke in a warning tone she knew would be thoroughly ignored.

As expected, his only response was an evil chuckle.

   ***

"What?!" The city lord of Valen, Count Evered, roared. The entire audience room seemed to tremble, his voice cracking like a whip to all those present. "A black market dares burrow its way into my city?" His face turned black with rage.

Inwardly, he was dripping with regret. Black markets were usually home to many illegal dealings. Although many cities hosted them, they were not, of course, officially affiliated. They merely turned a blind eye in return for a cut of all profits. Valen was one such example.

Evered had in fact enjoyed several decades of amicable relations with those running the black market. A fair amount of the money he received went into bolstering the city's wealth and security...in addition to fattening his own pockets.

Unfortunately for Evered, with the auction house of the Blue Heavens burning down it was impossible to act ignorant. In light of that, there was only one course of action to take.

"Demolish that den of criminals at once!"

He decisively went turncoat. 

"I want all those participating in this outrage rotting in a cell by nightfall!" He ordered loudly, slamming a clenched fist upon the armrest of his throne. As he heard the full story from one of his retainers, Evered had to force himself from slumping down in his seat and sighing.

Fuck, He cursed silently, feeling far older and more annoyed than he had in years.

Apparently, the son of Marquis Claybrook, that Violet Fucker, had been involved. He'd somehow gained an invitation--which son of a whore would give one to that bastard? He wanted to hang their head over his fireplace!--presumably to browse the wares offered within the market. He then proceeded to make trouble over the auction house dabbling in slavery.

Cock-sucking motherfucker! Couldn't you just have left well enough alone, Evered quietly simmered. You little bastard, the rumors were right about you! Simply infuriating! 

Now because that brat had wanted to play at a hero for a change, Evered was forced into a precarious position. Officially he had nothing to do with the black market. Even though hosting it had bought him much wealth, he needed to deny knowledge of its existence in his city.

This would undoubtedly make him a laughingstock among the nobles of other regions. "How could he be so incompetent as to not know something so atrocious was happening in his backyard?" They'd mock.

He'd have to bear that humiliation! All because some self-righteous brat needed to interfere!  And this would no doubt cut off the peace between him and the Underlords, the figures who led the black markets across the continent. But it was still better than being accused of treason if it got out he tried to sweep this under the rug. 

And so it was with a pained heart he made a proclamation.

"For his exemplary actions in the name of justice, I wish to congratulate the young Lord Claybrook with a banquet held in his honor."

With that, a public announcement would be issued inviting the boy to stay at the city lord's estate for the time being.  

Bitter a pill though it was, Evered couldn't stop there. 

"And furthermore..." The words seemed like they had to be dragged out of him. "I will award him a medal of Outstanding Service. Let it be known!" He sounded defeated even to his own ears.

Well, he consoled himself, At least that bastard won't actually show. He must be long gone by now. Even if he wasn't, who in their right mind would take the invitation?  He killed a dozen men and women over slaves. 

Lord Bryon even had his heart ripped out. 

He had family in Valen. If the little devil did come, Evered would like to see just how he'd explain himself to the man's wife and children!