Devil Slave (Satan system)-Chapter 1224: General Marian

A sharp, jolting pain flared at the back of Enel’s neck before everything went black. The sensation of cold stone beneath him greeted his return to consciousness, but what truly dragged him back was the stinging slap across his face.

"Wake up, brat," a calm yet commanding voice said as his vision cleared.

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Sitting across from him in a chair was a woman. She was lean, almost wiry, but radiated an unmistakable authority that surpassed her stature. Her short blonde hair was cropped close to her head, and the numerous medals adorning her armor rivaled those of Commander Kael. Her piercing blue eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and disdain.

"Well, well," she said, leaning back casually, a smirk tugging at her lips. "So you’re the brat. The one who broke an angel. And—" her tone turned sharper, dripping with venom, "the useless spawn of Allison. You know, I never liked her much. I doubt I’ll like you even less."

Enel frowned, wiping the lingering sting from his cheek. "I’m really starting to get pissed at how I’m being treated in this place," he muttered.

Her brow arched, the smirk widening. She didn’t miss the edge in his tone, nor did she fail to notice the lack of fear in his expression.

"Well, look at you," she remarked, more impressed than she let on. "No screaming. No groveling. I’ll admit, that’s unexpected. Most would be begging by now in fear."

"I’m not most," Enel replied coolly, meeting her gaze with unflinching defiance.

She chuckled, though her tone remained edged. "I heard you made the angel talk. Something about a betrayal in our ranks. Used your little elven tricks to put words in his mouth, did you? Let me tell you something about us werewolves."

She straightened, her presence filling the room. "We’re not so easily broken. Our bond through blood and battle makes us unyielding. You, on the other hand, strut in here trying to sow discord. For all I know, you’ve thrown your charm at Lord Alpha Victor himself, turning his head."

Enel’s eyes narrowed, irritation flaring. "So why haven’t you just killed me already?"

The woman stilled, taken aback by the steel in his voice. His gaze locked onto hers, cold and calculating, ignoring the snarls and growls of the werewolves standing guard behind her. For a moment, there was nothing but tension, her own instincts warning her of the danger in those eyes.

Her lips parted, but she hesitated. For all her power and experience, the brief flicker of killing intent in Enel’s stare made her flinch—a reaction she hadn’t expected, nor appreciated.

The room remained silent save for the low growls of the guards. She recovered quickly, but not before Enel caught the shift in her demeanor.

"What’s your name?" he asked, his tone devoid of submission but laced with curiosity.

The smirk returned, though her voice carried a grudging respect. "Call me General Marian. And you’d do well to remember it."

Marian’s slender finger clicked, and the heavy velvet curtain behind her slid open with a groan. The sudden gust of foul air that followed was almost unbearable—a choking mix of decay, sweat, and something more acrid, primal, and grotesque. Enel recoiled slightly, his stomach twisting at the stench.

He was a werewolf now... he had more sensitive stomach.

Marian rose from her seat with deliberate grace, her sharp eyes never leaving Enel’s. She motioned for him to follow. "Come," she commanded, her voice cold and steady.

For a moment, he hesitated but before he could react further, a burly werewolf stepped forward and shoved him roughly. Enel stumbled but caught his balance, turning to the werewolf with a peculiar look in his eyes—sharp and dangerous, a silent warning that lingered just long enough to make the werewolf hesitate.

They were stronger than him, but werewolves were very sensitive to killing intent because of their animal part, and Enel’s was a storm.

Still, he obeyed Marian, stepping through the curtain. What lay beyond it made him freeze.

Below them stretched a wide pit, its floor covered in grime and blood. Snarling and growling echoed from within as hulking werewolves prowled the enclosure. But these were not ordinary werewolves. Their forms were twisted, their fur matted with filth, and their eyes glowed with unbridled savagery. Their movements were erratic, animalistic—completely devoid of the intelligence that typically balanced their ferocity.

Marian followed his gaze with satisfaction. "These," she began, gesturing toward the cursed creatures, "are the unfortunate ones. Werewolves born with a defect. After their first transformation, they lost the ability to return to their human form. Weak in body and spirit, they lack the resilience to reclaim what was once theirs. And the longer they remain like this, the more of their humanity slips away, leaving nothing but mindless beasts."

Her tone was clinical, but there was a certain pride in the way she described her gruesome charges. "They are useless to society... or rather, they were. I have taken it upon myself to train them, to give them purpose. These cursed souls are now our punishers." She paused, turning to Enel with a sly smile. "Their sole purpose is to deal with the real savages—those who betray or offend the pack."

As she spoke, the sound of heavy footsteps approached. Two soldiers dragged a man to the edge of the pit, his arms bound and his face pale with terror. He struggled and pleaded, his voice trembling. "Please! Please, Commander Marian, I beg you! It was a mistake—I swear it! I only wanted extra rations! It was just a tiny lie!"

Marian ignored his cries, stepping forward with icy authority. "Mr. Nadavi," she began, her voice cutting through his desperate wails, "you are accused of the crime of lying in the name of our Lord Alpha. For this crime, you are sentenced to death by Fanging."

The man fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. "No! No, please, I’ll do anything! It wasn’t meant to hurt anyone—I didn’t know—"

"Enough," Marian snapped, her tone brooking no argument. She turned to the cursed werewolves in the pit, raising her arm dramatically. "Have at him."

The creatures below responded immediately, their growls growing louder, their movements frenzied. Their eyes locked onto the man, and their claws dug into the ground in anticipation.

The soldiers gave the man no time to protest further, shoving him into the pit. He screamed as he tumbled down, landing with a sickening thud.

The cursed werewolves swarmed him instantly, their growls drowning out his cries. He scrambled backward, his hands clawing at the dirt, but there was nowhere to run.

From above, Enel watched in silence, his expression unreadable. Marian turned to him, her smile cold and satisfied. "Pay attention, Enel. This is what happens to those who fuck with the pack..."