CHAPTER 129: FIRST SLAVE

The Epic-rank skill stone was in Leon’s hand, and with just a thought, the black-colored stone—which seemed to absorb light from the atmosphere—turned into particles of light and entered Leon’s temple.

A message in the form of a golden transparent screen appeared in front of him, informing him that he was now the owner of the skill Slave Mark.

That wasn’t all, as new, profound information about the skill also entered his mind.

Hmm... so if there is even the slightest bit of resistance in the living being I’m trying to make a slave of, it won’t work, and my mana would be wasted.

Now that Leon had the skill, he honed his spatial awareness with sharp intent, absorbing even the faintest shifts in the environment. His senses picked up subtle imprints—grass faintly crushed, directionally consistent, revealing a path left by someone fleeing in haste. The impressions were unmistakable: assassin’s footprints.

Mana surged through every vein in his body, weaving into his muscles and bones as the Transcendent-rank Mana Body Enhancement activated, reinforcing his entire physique with unimaginable strength.

BOOM! A deafening burst of wind echoed as Leon’s figure vanished into a blur, accelerating toward the trail without hesitation.

It didn’t take him long. In less than five minutes of travel, Leon detected a man in ragged clothing in the distance. Dirt was covering his body just like it had before entering here. The man was neither standing nor sitting—he simply lay on the grassy field, face down against the earth.

As Leon approached, his figure flashing in blurs, he noticed something odd—the figure wasn’t entirely still. The man’s shoulders twitched faintly, and though his face was turned downward, there was a subtle movement, as if his jaw clenched and released every few seconds.

He wasn’t asleep, like Leon had thought.

Leon stopped just a few feet away, eyes narrowing slightly. The man hadn’t reacted yet, but it was clear he was awake.

Then Leon’s eyes fell to the grass directly surrounding the man’s body. He blinked. It looked... trimmed. No, more than trimmed—perfectly mowed, as if the man had been lying so still for so long that nature had given up and decided to landscape around him.

What the hell... did someone run a lawnmower over this guy while he was down here? Leon thought, barely holding back a snort.

Then it hit him.

Wait... I sent this guy here a while ago, didn’t I? Leon’s brow twitched. Time moved differently in the dimension—what had only been less than half an hour outside must have been nearly a week for the assassin.

He squinted again at the grass.

That’s not mowed... he ate it.

Leon looked back at the man, now completely baffled. Did this guy seriously spend his first few days here chewing grass like a starved cow? The absurdity of the image nearly broke his composure.

"Hey, stand up."

Leon made his presence known as the beggar assassin jerked back in surprise and nearly yelled.

He quickly sat down on the ground, and Leon could see his sunken face and lips, which had turned green—a clear reminder that this man had eaten grass inside to survive.

Did Leon feel any sympathy toward the assassin now? The answer was no. He had spared the assassin only because of his pathetic display, but that didn’t mean his crimes were forgiven. This could serve as a light punishment.

James looked at the silver-white-haired terrifying young man in front of him again. For a moment, he had thought he was dreaming, but hearing the voice—which he could never forget—and feeling the strange pressure from him that he hadn’t felt before, which was trying to crush his body...

He did try to stand up, but he couldn’t.

Leon, seeing him struggle, realized what was happening and turned off his Mana Body Enhancement to let the man breathe.

In the next moment, his face hit the ground—he was bowing once again, as his shaky voice sounded.

"Lord, please give me something to eat. I haven’t eaten for a week. The only reason I’m even in the condition to talk properly and move freely is because of my water affinity and eating grass to survive."

After the request, the man lifted his face—his expression looked like he could cry at any moment.

But Leon wasn’t in a hurry.

"Okay, I’ll give you food. But before that, submit to me and don’t have any thoughts of resisting. I’m going to put the Slave Mark on you."

The assassin would have scoffed at those words before, but the pressure he had felt just now told him this young man’s strength was more unfathomable than he had imagined—not even the knight commander gave off such pressure, enough to leave a highly trained Level 7 assassin like him on his knees, unable to stand.

Looks like he had underestimated him.

He had tried to run away after arriving in this place, only to find that despite the endless green grassy atmosphere and gentle breezes brushing against his skin, this place was more of a prison. The grass felt damp under his bare feet, but it offered no comfort. The wind whispered, but not a single sound of life answered it.

No matter how far he searched for a town, village, or city, there was nothing.

There wasn’t even a single tree casting shade, no rustling of leaves, no chirp of birds. No animals, no water—only an eerie stillness. Even the scent of earth and grass was faint, as though the land itself had been muted.

He had never seen or even heard of a place like this. There was no sun or moon—no warmth, no chill, just the glow of a never-ending sunset without a source. The sky glowed in soft gold and crimson, yet gave no sense of time—only the oppressive feeling of being lost in a beautiful illusion.

He had no thought of resisting now. The man in front of him was too mysterious—he even wondered if he was human to begin with.

"My lord, put the Slave Mark on me. I am ready."

There was hesitation in his voice. He knew that if he wanted to live, he had to follow this man’s orders.

Leon, hearing him, was pleased to know he didn’t resist. Otherwise, he had already planned to beat him and heal him back up again—repeating the process until he submitted. And he knew this man would break rather quickly.

He didn’t waste any time and focused his mana on using the new skill he had just learned—Slave Mark.

Leon could put the mark anywhere, but he chose the forehead, where it would be visible for everyone to see.

He was near his forehead even though he had not learned to control the Darkness element even a little.

Tendrils of darkness came out of his hand, trying to merge with the man’s forehead—and on the first try, they merged and formed a tattoo. This was his slave brand. He could choose any design, as he had learned from the information in his brain.

But there was a size limit that it should follow and couldn’t be changed.

Like darkness used as ink, a cross symbol of pitch black was formed between the temples of the beggar assassin. The lines were two inches long and two centimeters thick.

Clearly visible to anyone who interacted with the man from a close distance.

The beggar assassin’s breath caught for a moment as something shifted inside him—an unnatural stillness, followed by a quiet pull. It wasn’t pain, but it felt like a string within his soul had been tied to something else.

He didn’t hear a voice. He didn’t see a flash of magic. But suddenly, the man in front of him no longer felt like just a person—he felt like something absolute. His presence filled the world around him, and the assassin’s instincts whispered a single, unshakable truth: That is your master.

He didn’t understand how, but the Slave Mark had taken hold. That vague connection—silent yet undeniable—had been planted deep into his being. Even without commands, he knew who held the chain now.