Chapter 103

Children stood lined up in rows—boys who looked no older than their early teens.

With hands clasped politely before them, they stole nervous glances upward. Behind the eyeholes of a silver mask, a sharp gaze examined them meticulously.

It did not merely observe. It grasped their wrists as though measuring their thickness, pried open their jaws to inspect their teeth—like judging the quality of livestock.

After some time passed…

The Dark-side priest muttered,

“…Below expectations. The quality’s dropped sharply these days. Did something happen at the farm?”

“Hnng, don’t be so picky.”

The figure beside him replied. Strangely, its voice sounded less like a human’s and more like the grunting of a beast.

That was only natural.

The being standing next to the priest was not human.

A large pig stood upright on two legs, imitating a man. It wore a tattered evening suit, a top hat perched on its head, and even a monocle over one eye—like a grotesque gentleman.

The pig spoke again.

“Hng, hrng… The products raised on our farm are of excellent quality. Hng! We carefully selected only those with large frames and sturdy bones. Why are you so dissatisfied?”

Snorting repeatedly, clearly offended. The priest scratched his chin, then abruptly raised his hand high—

As if to strike.

Startled, the boys flinched and shrank their necks.

The priest smirked.

“Look at this one. Big body, but weak spirit. No potential to become a fang.”

The pig considered this before replying.

“Hng… Perhaps lacking in some areas. But perfectly balanced goods are rare. Even if we had them, we wouldn’t sell them. Hrrng! Those exceptional specimens must remain on the farm as breeding stock.”

“So these are defective goods, then?”

“Even flawed goods, hng! can become useful if you process them properly.”

Even carefully raised livestock carries a certain odor in its meat. Removing that smell and turning it into food—that is the cook’s role.

By the same logic—

The farm’s role is only to breed and raise livestock. Training them into fighting dogs is the Dark-side priests’ responsibility.

After a moment of thought, the priest nodded.

“…Not entirely wrong. A bit disappointing, but… if raised properly, they’ll at least earn their keep.”

He gestured. Human slaves waiting behind carried forward several large wooden crates.

Five crates were placed at the pig’s feet. When opened, they revealed demonic beast bones, hides, inner cores, and various other items.

The pig grinned with satisfaction.

“Hrrng! A satisfying trade, as always.”

The transaction was complete. Human and pig sealed it with a handshake.

“Bring better goods next time. We’ll pay whatever it costs.”

“Understood. I’ll relay it to the farm owner.”

After exchanging farewells, the priest prepared to depart with the newly purchased boys.

…But a small problem arose immediately.

One of the bull-type demonic beasts used for transport suddenly slumped to the ground. Seeing this, the priest clicked his tongue in irritation.

“This thing again… how troublesome.”

What was the issue?

A boy watched the bull with curious eyes. The creature yawned lazily, then turned its head this way.

Its eyes gleamed ominously. The moment their gazes met, the boy was seized by overwhelming terror.

He knew instinctively.

…It wants to eat me.

Just as humans consider veal a delicacy, a young boy was a rare and precious treat to the bull demonic beast.

Lick.

The bull swept its upper lip with its tongue, as if savoring the thought. The priest belatedly understood.

“So you’re hungry.”

The priest turned toward the boys. The boy’s heart plummeted.

I have to run.

But his legs refused to move.

Frozen in place, trembling—

The priest strode forward. The terrified boy squeezed his eyes shut.

It’s over.

He was certain of it—

But the priest passed right by him.

“No! Why me?!”

A scream erupted.

The boy cautiously opened his eyes. A slave was being dragged away. The man struggled and wailed, but the priest ignored him, gripping his wrist tightly.

Soon, the priest flung the slave before the bull. The slave attempted to flee, but the beast pressed a hoof onto his back, preventing escape.

“Frrr…”

The bull snorted, its gaze shifting between the slave beneath its hoof and the terrified boy.

It almost seemed to protest that this was not the prey it desired.

The priest replied coldly,

“Don’t be picky. We cannot feed candidates for the Order to you.”

Firm. No room for negotiation.

The bull finally relented. Regretful, perhaps—but it would have to settle for what was before it.

Crunch!

“Ugh—aaaargh!!”

Bones shattered. Flesh tore.

The bull chewed through the man’s arm as though gnawing fodder.

A cow devouring a human.

The slave, still alive, screamed desperately.

“Help me!! Please—!”

He stretched out a hand, shouting at the top of his lungs.

No one reached back.

All lowered their eyes as though pretending not to see.

Before long, the screams faded.

Each time the bull tore into the body, the corpse jerked weakly, spilling blood.

“U-ugh…”

The surviving boy trembled. The slave’s life had ended, yet his screams continued echoing in the boy’s mind.

Everything was horrific. He wanted to escape this nightmare somehow.

…But the nightmare had only just begun.

There is no place for the weak. To survive in the Demon Realm, one must cultivate strength.

The society of the Dark-side priests was built on the supremacy of the strong.

The great Outer Gods despised frailty. To become a priest serving them, one had to prove worthy—train the body through hardship, refine the mind through scripture.

…It hurts.

The boy clenched his molars.

The training was essentially a form of torture. Climbing steep cliffs, slashing daggers at one another’s bodies as targets—such things were routine.

He wanted to give up. To collapse and surrender everything.

But he could not stop. The moment he fell behind in training, he would lose the right to become a disciple and be reduced to a slave.

I must not become a slave.

Whenever he felt like giving up, he recalled what he had witnessed.

The man devoured by the bull.

That was the fate of slaves.

They spent their lives confined to mines, swinging pickaxes—until their bodies broke down. And the moment they were no longer useful, they became feed for demonic beasts.

I can’t end like that.

Fear dulled the pain of reality.

The boy endured desperately. Even when cracks formed in his bones and muscles tore, he showed no sign of it and completed his training to the end. Each time he endured, his strength and skill grew noticeably.

Time passed swiftly—

…Three years later.

The boy was fourteen.

Still young enough not to have even entered adolescence. Yet his height and physique had grown abnormally. He stood over 180 centimeters tall, and thick, defined muscles lined his frame.

It was unnatural growth brought about by demonic beast inner cores and the alchemical drugs of the Dark-side priests.

“You have proven your worth.”

The High Priest smiled in satisfaction. The disciples assembled here were elites who had survived long and brutal training.

“Step forward, one by one.”

Answering the call, each disciple approached and knelt on one knee before him.

The High Priest personally placed a mask upon each face. An iron mask. Cold metal like ice pressed against the boy’s skin.

“Congratulations. You are now fangs of the Order.”

A new status. No longer would he need to fear becoming a slave.

…But the competition was not over.

To gain higher rank, one had to continuously temper strength and climb the hierarchy.

308.

The number that named him—and defined his rank. Neither strong nor weak.

His peers seemed inwardly dissatisfied with such a middling position. Naturally so. They were assigned tedious duties regularly, yet the benefits were meager.

The only privileges were the authority to command slaves and a small private room.

Thus, others strove to rise higher in rank… but the boy had no such ambition. He was already satisfied.

“P-please! Spare me!!”

A slave begged. The boy did not even pretend to listen. He hurled the captive toward the bull demonic beast.

The starving bull tore into the slave.

“Ugh—aaaargh!! Aaaah—!”

Screams rang out without pause. The boy curled the corner of his lips upward as he watched the slave die.

Shouldn’t have been a dropout.

A sense of superiority.

He was captivated by that pleasure. When had such malice taken root in his heart?

Looking back—

…I’ve always wanted to do this.

Once, he had feared becoming a slave. But at the same time, he had envied the authority of the Dark-side priests—the beings who treated their own kind like livestock. Deep within his chest, he had admired them.

That was why he had endured broken bones and ruptured muscles without complaint.

This is my reward.

Throwing sick slaves as feed—no matter how many times he did it, it never grew dull. He was thoroughly satisfied with his current life.

But to continue living this way, he had to handle the corresponding menial tasks. Troublesome, yet necessary.

Night patrol.

That was today’s assignment.

Losing sleep was unpleasant, but for the sake of tomorrow’s pleasures, he accepted the duty willingly.

Then—

Thud, crash!

The sound of a trash bin overturning shattered the silence.

The boy, who had been about to pass by, snapped his head toward it.

“Who’s there?”

He asked cautiously.

No answer came. To confirm the source of the noise, he had to enter the alley himself.

He carefully surveyed the surroundings. Nothing visible—only trash scattered across the ground.

…Did a rat knock it over?

Thinking so, he turned—

—and came face-to-face with a man wearing a lion’s pelt over his head.

Woojin seized the Dark-side priest’s head and twisted.

Crack—!

The sound of vertebrae snapping.

And thus, the life of No. 308 came to an end.