Chapter 117: Someone Else Will Deal With It

The beastmen and demi-humans looked at each other, yet not a single one dared to step forward.

The gap in strength was like an unbridgeable abyss—no amount of numbers or tactics could make up for it.

They weren’t afraid of death. They were only afraid that their deaths would be meaningless.

“What’s wrong? You were so arrogant just now—why are you all mute now?”

The one speaking was Mara.

Hiding behind Peretti, she mocked the cowardly beastmen without restraint, perfectly embodying borrowing a tiger’s might to intimidate others.

“Quite a few of your kind have already escaped in the chaos. I don’t feel like dealing with it—it’s troublesome. Before I decide to kill you all, anyone who wants to run… better do it now.”

The moment those words fell, everyone present stared at Peretti in shock.

In the beastmen’s eyes were confusion, disbelief, and deep suspicion—but no one believed her.

Let them go?

How could that possibly be real?

Mara tugged lightly at Peretti’s cloak, whispering anxiously,

“Miss Peretti, you absolutely can’t let them go like this! If they scatter into the city, it’ll only cause even more casualties!”

“I remember—you said again when they came out. That means this isn’t the first time something like this has happened in Brest, right?”

Mara stiffly nodded.

Beastman s*ave uprisings had indeed happened many times. This was already the second one this month.

About two months ago, some slaves awakened a certain level of resistance to the runes. Brest, caught unprepared, suffered heavy losses. Since then, not only had such beastmen not decreased—they had actually become more numerous.

If that was the case… why continue importing slaves?

Mara fidgeted, unable to answer.

The s*ave trade was the backbone of the Empire’s economy—the foundation of noble extravagance. If the influx stopped, mines and estates across the land would grind to a halt. The financial loss would be astronomical.

No noble—no minister—would dare bear such consequences.

“You hesitated.”

Peretti looked at her awkward expression and nodded knowingly, a faint trace of mockery in her voice.

“Right. You’re a noble, after all. If you can treat your own lives as bargaining chips, why would you care about the lives of commoners?”

The words struck Mara like a stone lodged in her throat.

It was true.

When beastman slaves rebelled, the first ones they killed were nobles and s*ave masters.

Yet for immediate profit, those same nobles continued importing slaves even under such risks—gambling with their own lives. If they didn’t even value their own safety, how could they possibly care about commoners?

The simplest way…

was to turn the gamble into certainty—so that the risk of being killed by beastmen was no longer something the nobles themselves controlled.

Peretti’s voice was quiet—

yet loud enough for everyone present to hear.

“Did you understand? Ten seconds. Anyone still here after that… I’ll kill.”

Almost instinctively, the beastmen turned and ran on all fours, sprinting toward the city outskirts with all their strength.

The demi-humans followed closely behind, ears flicking wildly as they ran. No one dared look back, afraid that cold blade-like presence would fall on them the next second.

In the blink of an eye, the once-crowded ruins became empty.

“…It’s over… so many beastmen…”

Mara collapsed weakly to the ground.

With so many escaping, she didn’t even dare imagine the destruction that would follow.

But she couldn’t stop Peretti.

The difference in power was an absolute wall.

“They’ll take care of it.”

Peretti remained calm.

She had full confidence in the efficiency of the Attunement Squad. From what she’d seen of Anasha, that group leader was practically a workaholic—an incident like escaping beastmen would likely be resolved within a day.

Only by releasing all the beastman slaves and creating enough chaos could Peretti proceed with her next plan.

Worried that some beastmen might still be lurking nearby, Peretti stayed beside Mara until the familiar sound of galloping hooves approached. Only then did she finally leave the s*ave market.

She hadn’t gone far when the rich aroma of roasted meat drifted through the air.

Peretti paused, thought for a few seconds, then followed the scent.

“Boss, one roasted lamb leg.”

She took the steaming lamb leg, wrapped in oil paper, the aroma seeping through the folds.

But instead of eating it, she carried it into a dark, secluded alley.

The alley was cluttered with broken crates and discarded debris, covered by a tattered tarp that blocked what little light remained. The air was thick with damp mildew and rust.

Standing at the only exit, Peretti curled her lips into a faint smile, her voice soft:

“What a perfect place. Piles of junk, poor lighting… hiding here really isn’t easy to notice.”

“Just wondering… if you keep hiding here, will you starve to death? I heard catfolk start rotting after two days, and it smells pretty awful. Not sure if that’s true.”

A moment later, the lid of a wooden crate creaked open.

A small figure climbed out.

It was the pink catgirl.

Only half of her tattered gauze remained. Her once delicate dress had been torn apart while escaping, snagged by thorny wood. The scraps barely covered anything now, and her exposed skin was covered in small cuts and bruises.

She stood there trembling uncontrollably.

She had seen it clearly—Peretti instantly killing three beastmen.

In front of someone like that, she didn’t even have the right to resist.

Resistance would only bring a more brutal death.

“Oh? There’s actually such a cute little cat hiding here. What a surprise.”

Peretti raised a brow in feigned astonishment, the teasing tone making the catgirl’s expression darken.

“How did you find me?” the pink eyes locked onto Peretti—but her nose twitched involuntarily.

The smell of roasted lamb was too tempting.

Her gaze was drawn like a magnet to the lamb leg in Peretti’s hand, unable to move away.

This was their second meeting.

Last time, she could still feign seduction, trying to lure Peretti with charm.

But now, all she had left was caution—and embarrassment.

Peretti stepped closer, lifting a finger and lightly flicking it.

A tiny sphere of light emerged from the catgirl’s chest, drifting into her fingertip before dissolving into a faint glow.

The catgirl froze, her pink eyes widening in shock.

“You! When did you put that there?!”

“With how those two lumps of yours nearly crushed my arm, and you’re asking when I put it there? I should be asking you—why aren’t you trying to seduce me anymore?”

At that, the catgirl’s face flushed instantly, embarrassment flooding over her.

She hurriedly clutched the torn gauze around her body, gripping it tightly, her fingers turning pale as if she wished she could disappear into the ground.

“Don’t look at me like that. Look—freshly roasted lamb leg. Crispy on the outside, tender inside… want some?”