Chapter 136: Judgement (5)

The woman was clearly shaken. The chants demanding her death and the thumping of legs on the ground made it sound like her end was near.

She remembered the alley where she first learned to steal, the only place that had ever felt safe. Now, even that memory felt far away—as if death had already begun swallowing her life.

For the first time, she was truly scared now.

No matter what, she had never imagined God would actually kill her. She knew she had been too greedy—when he had access to a mountain of treasure, this meant nothing. So, she had thought she could get away with being found.

That was what she had thought, but now here she was. These coins weren’t even worth anything here. If only he had told her this before, she wouldn’t have done it.

She was fine with being punished, even when her words didn’t work on him. But death—it made her feel horror. Her fear ran deep.

Anything but death.

She looked at her God with pleading eyes, dropping to her knees once again. There was no crying this time, but her voice was shaking, and her body trembled.

"I-I really don’t want to die."

Leon didn’t answer her—just looked down at her, cold and frosty.

She panicked even more, seeing the indifference in God’s eyes. The chants didn’t make it easier for her.

"Kill her!"

Tears left her eyes, but this time, they were real—silent, but falling down her face.

Suddenly, her eyes met with someone—a man standing beside the God. With his ugly face, he was laughing. Then he made a hand gesture, drawing a line across his neck.

NOOOO!!!!!

She forgot everything now—her greed, her act—everything. Only fear and helplessness remained in her mind.

She broke, like a dam had finally opened. Her tears were relentless, her body shaking as she started mumbling beneath the chant demanding her death.

Her teeth clattered behind trembling lips. Her knees scraped against the rough ground, and she clutched her stomach as if trying to hold her insides together. The iron taste of panic coated her tongue.

"I—I really won’t be greedy anymore, God!"

Sniff sniff

"Please, just forgive me this once..."

His eyes were unblinking, glacial—like polished obsidian laced with judgment. Standing before him felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, where even silence dared not whisper.

Ignoring her, he ordered someone else.

"James, come forward."

No!!! Not him!

No!

No no no!!

I want to live!

Despite the man’s appearance, he had a sword holstered at his waist. The thought terrified her as he came closer.

A musky and pungent smell hit Leon. He looked down at her—her lower clothes were wet. She had peed herself now.

He did think it was enough for her now. He didn’t think she would ever forget this.

She was greedy, manipulative, and annoying—but he didn’t think she deserved death. It wasn’t like James, who had come trying to assassinate him. James was only alive because of his pitiful display and the fact that he wasn’t the one who fired the shot.

He would give her one chance at the very least. If she didn’t live up to it, then it would be she who was to blame for her own demise.

Before stopping the chant that was making her shiver, he liked to do something important.

James arrived in front of Leon.

"My Lord, thank you for giving me the honor of finishing this job."

What is this retard talking about...?

Leon’s hand moved in a blur. Life energy cloaked his hand, and with the blunt of his palm forming a slap, he hit James’s face—who still had a grin plastered on it.

The slap landed with a deafening

CRACK

, echoing like a whip crack through the open air, followed by a

whoosh

as James’s body was hurled backward, flipping and bouncing across the grass with a series of

thuds

and

rolls

. No blood marked his face, but agony pulsed through him—sharper and deeper than when he’d shattered his own arm. His skull throbbed violently, like it might explode—but somehow, it didn’t.

Looks like I used too much force... Doesn’t matter. I already used life energy as backup in case something went wrong. He’ll survive.

"ARRRRGGHH!!" The pain hit him physically, but mentally it was even wilder. James’s mind was filled with questions—why had he suddenly gotten slapped so hard?

"Come back, James."

The pain didn’t last long. It was gone very quickly despite being intense, as he had no wounds.

James didn’t dare defy the order of his master and returned to the same place where he had been slapped.

His grin was gone now. He didn’t care about his excitement anymore. More than anything, he didn’t want to die. Right beside the woman, he dropped to his knees.

"My lord, don’t kill me. I thought you had forgiven me after I became your slave! Just don’t kill me."

"You can hang me upside down, make me eat dirt, or slap me as much as you want—just don’t kill me!"

The woman, still shivering, locked eyes with the man whose earlier hand sign had terrified her when she was already suffering.

Despite the tear- and snot-streaked face, the dirt clinging to her skin, and the pure horror etched into every trembling breath, there was still a strange flicker of amusement in her eyes—like even rock bottom had room for sarcasm.

James met her gaze.

Sparks flew between them.

Both of them had the same wish for one another:

What are you looking at? You’ll die soon, you bitch.

You’ll also die, you insufferable bastard.

The slap earlier had terrified Mia and James—as much as it did the rest of the people in the slum, including the man who hadn’t joined the chant and was visibly shaken for the first time.

The pure, unfiltered violence gave him chills for the first time.

He didn’t think the so-called God was this strong—or that he was capable of doing something like that to a normal human.

Fear crept into his heart.

Mia and James were wishing for each other’s death.

As Leon’s voice rang out—

"Stop the chant. That’s enough, all of you."

It had stopped for a while when James was sent flying, but started again after they saw him stand up. They couldn’t forget Mia’s ugly behavior—she was better off dead.

If she had stolen even one platinum coin from a noble, she would have been dead by now. Her death felt justifiable, natural, and inevitable to them.

These chants were proof of their approval. Their God didn’t need to be kind to everyone—especially when people didn’t appreciate him.

But now, after his command, it was dead silent—like the end of a war.

Now, he looked at his new slave, who had started begging for his life once again.

"Stand up. I’m not going to kill you. Just—don’t laugh like a villain non-stop. I can hear everything."

He wouldn’t have acted if James had just stopped for a moment. Even the chant had slowed down. But his slave’s evil laugh had never stopped and kept ringing in his ears.

Kek kek kek

This woman and James matched in how much they annoyed him—her act of crying and putting on a drama, and James laughing like a maniac in the background, like a permanent background effect.

James stopped—but not before giving a smirk to the woman who had pissed herself, his eyes openly looking down on her, a smirk on his face.

Pathetic.

But Mia had no counter. Still, she wouldn’t forget this shame, especially from this bastard. If she survived, she would teach this insufferable man a lesson someday.

Nothing escaped Leon’s eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

"Go back now. And make sure to breathe when laughing. If I catch you again laughing like a maniac, you’ll be slapped again."

"Yes, my lord!" He would make sure to take two-second breaks with each laugh.

James returned to his position.

Kek kek kek... phew... phew... phew... kek kek kek...

Leon heard him once again, but at least he was taking a break this time. He knew how much James feared him. Despite that, the fact that he was laughing evilly showed it wasn’t something he couldn’t control.

If he was taking two-second breathers between each laugh because of Leon’s command, Leon was fine with it. He couldn’t be too harsh.

"You stand up too."

Mia stood up, the damp fabric of her clothes clinging uncomfortably to her skin, her legs trembling as if they could give out at any second. She imagined the sheer force of his slap—how her bones might crack before she even hit the ground.

The result?

She knew she would most likely die.

No matter how ugly the man from before was, he was clearly an awakener. And she was only a slum rat—her body weaker than even normal people. The slap would kill her.

"Now... prove you’re worth that mercy."