The one hundred percent death rate was not without reason.
After all, the slave girls were living human weapons created by the nation, born with racial traits that made any possibility of redemption impossible!
Rinne Tenki had long since disregarded the so-called “Scales of Demise and Revival,” which supposedly granted a one-quarter chance to resurrect the near-dead.
To her, the correct interpretation of this ability was a one hundred percent guarantee to kill anyone who dared invade her.
At first, Rumiion was quite interested in this power. He had taken a group of death row inmates from the Great Prison for an experiment—over fourteen hundred in total—with no instances of revival. The mortality rate was absolute.
Because of this, Rumiion held very little hope for reviving Byakuya. He had no confidence at all in the “Scales of Demise and Revival.”
That was why he approached it with a try-and-see attitude—costs were irrelevant. If Byakuya died, he wouldn’t feel regret. But if she managed to survive, well, that would be far more interesting.
Three-quarters chance of demise, one-quarter chance of revival.
Or, in other words, a one hundred percent chance of death.
The ability “Scales of Demise and Revival” was riddled with uncertainty, but the grim side of it certainly sided with Byakuya’s demise.
Her chances of survival were so slim they might as well have been zero.
“Death is liberation,” Rinne Tenki whispered.
If she could, she didn’t want to personally kill Byakuya. She was reluctant to deliver a fatal blow to this dying slave.
Death was painful, and struggling in the grasp of death was even crueler. She pitied such a wretched soul and didn’t wish to end her life with her own hands.
But there was no choice. This was the order of Prince Rumiion, the command of her master.
A slave girl must obey her master absolutely; the master’s command overrode even her own will.
Rinne Tenki’s waist-length black hair stirred without a breeze, and the mark etched on her chest radiated a dazzling black light.
On Rinne Tenki’s chest, above the bosom, at the boundary between pale and rotting skin, lay a dark shadowy pattern depicting a bizarre creature with black and white wings.
Within the pattern, a line of tiny script was engraved.
Only experts proficient in ancient texts could translate it. The inscription was nothing but a title—The Arbiter of Life and Death.
Rinne Tenki slowly closed her eyes.
It was time to seize Byakuya’s life.
Though it violated her creed—not killing those who are about to die—there was no choice when it was the master’s command.
“‘Scales of Demise and Revival.’”
The moment she spoke, the dark pattern on her chest unleashed a burst of black radiance.
The only light in the room—the crystal chandeliers—was instantly swallowed whole.
Moments later, a cold, sinister aura began to creep through the room bit by bit.
Once again, the eerie voice she had long since prepared herself for, familiar yet desperate to flee from, whispered in her ears.
Without warning, Rinne Tenki knew it had come.
In the darkness, a pair of crimson eyes appeared.
Rinne Tenki felt someone embrace her from behind, a chill penetrating to her very bones from the skin on her back, causing her body to tremble uncontrollably.
It was it.
It breathed cold air into her ear, letting out an evil chuckle.
Its withered arms gently caressed her rotting skin, tracing from her waist up to her chest.
The excited breaths grew louder and more frenzied, punctuated by the harsh sound of drooling saliva corroding the floor.
Rumiion parted his fingers slightly, activating Clairvoyance, and coldly observed the massive black silhouette looming behind Rinne Tenki.
No matter how many times he saw it, Rumiion could never get used to its presence.
This slave transport ship was indeed a den of evil, where nobles indulged their filthy desires to the fullest.
Onboard, slaves were either brutally tortured to death or subjected to cruel punishments.
Their dignity trampled upon to satisfy the perverse whims of the rich—truly a dark and bloody place.
Rumiion prided himself on not being like his foolish brother Arthur, mingling with nobles and participating in their so-called “entertainment.”
His goal was singular and pure: to kill his two older brothers, Arthur and Caesar, and if necessary, even the father, ascending the throne as King of Amidal.
He was willing to employ any means and pay any price for this.
Thanks to his father’s teachings, Rumiion’s sole reason for living was to realize this ambition, to become the one king capable of fulfilling all his desires.
Therefore, Rumiion did not consider himself a good person.
Good people wouldn’t have survived to this point; they would have been strangled by their fathers in the cradle.
The nobles on this transport ship were all sinners—people who should be hand in hand in hell.
But their evil, when compared to the one standing behind Rinne Tenki, was, to put it kindly, insignificant.
To put it bluntly, not even worth comparing.
Sensing the gaze, the black silhouette paused.
Its head slowly turned 180 degrees, baring bloodstained fangs, releasing a soul-piercing evil laughter.
“A denizen of the Underworld,” Rumiion said expressionlessly. “Don’t look at me with those filthy eyes.”
Even though it wasn’t his first encounter, the revulsion within him remained uncontrollable.
The blame could only be placed on Rinne Tenki’s mother.
Who could have imagined that the terrifying creature from the realm of the dead—the Underworld entity—would fall in love with a human and mate?
Such an unimaginable occurrence.
The Underworld creature was a harbinger of death; any living being who saw it was doomed.
That an exception occurred caused quite a stir when Rinne Tenki’s existence was revealed.
But thanks to this exception, they gained such a precious slave girl.
Her mixed blood was rare, unique in the world.
Though the phantoms she summoned through the Law of Life and Death were utterly nauseating—the embodiment of evil on earth.
Yet, thinking of the two slave girls under brother Arthur, the Nether Fiend Weaving Rabbit and the Blaze of Hell Keirin, who couldn’t even manifest phantoms, Rumiion felt some consolation in his heart.