Path To Godhood Begins With Marrying Wife And Gaining SSS Rank Skill Chapter 491:Slave +1

Regalina offered a soft smile, her fan tapping her palm as she glanced at the ensnared mage. "Do you require assistance in dealing with this fellow?"

"I have my own methods," Ethan responded with composure.

Their gazes met briefly before they averted their eyes, parting ways without further exchange. Regalina and her guards vanished into the distance, while Ethan and Rathlos headed in the opposite direction, creating a clear separation from the recent encounter.

Once they had sufficient distance, Ethan halted and made a slight gesture.

"Release him."

Rathlos gave a nod and let the sealed mage fall from the suspended space. The luminous prison dissolved, and the middle-aged man crashed heavily onto the ground, still ensnared by lingering restraints of light and spatial energy.

Ethan and Rathlos exchanged a fleeting glance.

Then, their attention turned downward to the man.

A subtle, almost malevolent smile graced Ethan's lips.

The mage felt an icy dread creep up his spine.

He struggled weakly, like a creature stranded on dry land, his body wracked with tremors as his eyes flickered between the two imposing figures. He couldn't fathom their intentions, but a primal instinct warned him that it boded no good.

Ethan slowly lifted his hand.

A peculiar symbol materialized in his palm.

The Soul Stamp.

"Such an exquisite slave… how can I let it go to waste… kekekeke," Ethan murmured in a low tone.

In that instant, the middle-aged mage perceived Ethan as significantly more terrifying than his captor.

"No… wait—" the man attempted to protest, but his voice broke.

"Go."

*Swoosh!*

The Soul Stamp shot forth with incredible speed, striking the mage's forehead.

For a moment, there was no apparent reaction.

Then, the mark liquefied like flowing light, merging into his skin.

The mage's body stiffened, his eyes widening in shock.

Within his mind, a searing sensation erupted and rapidly spread. It felt as though something had fractured through the layers of his consciousness, penetrating the very core of his being. A radiant emblem formed at the deepest part of his soul, branding itself indelibly.

He fought to resist, but his soul quivered under the onslaught.

Yet, the power was overwhelming.

The mark settled into its place.

His struggles ceased abruptly.

His body went limp, and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

After a few moments, his fingers twitched.

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

But something within him had fundamentally changed.

The madness, the fear, the defiance—all had vanished.

They were supplanted by unwavering submission.

He pushed himself up weakly, then bowed his head, kneeling onto the ground.

"My Lord," he spoke with utmost respect.

Ethan gazed down at him impassively, his expression unreadable.

"Excellent… now tell me."

He drew slightly nearer, his gaze intensifying.

"Who dispatched you, bastard…"

...….

Within a secluded chamber deep inside the Ambrose estate, a palpable tension hung heavy in the air. The room was shrouded in dim light, exuding a suffocating pressure that caused even the attendants stationed outside to remain perfectly still, refraining from any movement or utterance.

Pentos stood at the center of the hall with his head bowed, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He dared not lift his gaze.

Before him, the elders of the Ambrose family sat with grim expressions.

One elder's sharp eyes burned with fury, the veins on his temple throbbing subtly as he fought for composure.

"Who gave you permission to rig the auction?" the elder's voice boomed coldly throughout the room.

Pentos remained silent.

"Are you an imbecile?" the elder continued, his tone escalating.

The harsh words struck home, and the ensuing silence felt even more oppressive.

"I…" Pentos began, attempting to speak, but the elder cut him off.

"Do you even comprehend the gravity of your actions?" he snapped, slamming his hand against the armrest of his seat.

"The auction house is not some roadside market for you to manipulate."

His gaze grew frigid, his voice laced with undisguised disappointment.

"You inserted a decoy into the auction and proceeded to inflate prices like a lunatic. Did you truly believe no one would take notice?"

Pentos's jaw clenched.

"My sole intention was to suppress him…" he stated in a low voice.

"Suppress him?" the elder echoed, a note of disbelief bordering on laughter in his tone.

"You call that suppression?"

"You turned it into a public spectacle."

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes piercing Pentos like sharpened blades.

"Do you understand the foundation upon which business is built?"

"Respect."

"Trust."

"And reputation."

Each word was delivered with deliberate weight, like a blacksmith's hammer striking metal.

"If news spreads that the Ambrose family engages in auction rigging, what consequences do you foresee?"

Pentos offered no response.

The elder pressed on without pause.

"Merchants will cease their dealings with us."

"Nobles will begin to harbor doubts."

"And the Merchant Association itself may turn against us."

His voice softened slightly, yet the anger simmering within remained potent.

"We're not just facing financial losses, we're risking our reputation. And once that's damaged, it's incredibly difficult to regain."

Pentos lowered his head further, his fingers digging into his palms.

The elder took a slow breath, leaning back in his seat to compose himself.

"You acted rashly," he stated in a softer tone.

"Your personal vendetta clouded your judgment and harmed the family's best interests."

"...I underestimated him," Pentos admitted after a moment of silence.

"Yes," the elder promptly agreed.

"You certainly did."

"And it wasn't just his power you misjudged."

"You also failed to grasp the full repercussions of your own impulsive actions."

The room fell back into silence, the air thick with lingering tension like a dense fog.

After a short while, the elder broke the quiet once more.

"Handle this," he commanded.

His voice was now composed, yet it held an undeniable authority.

"Ensure there are absolutely no loose ends or spreading rumors."

"Not a single whisper of this incident should leave this estate."

Pentos inclined his head slowly.

"You need not worry any longer," he said.

"I've already dispatched Maverick to pursue him."

The elder's eyes immediately widened in surprise.

"You did what?"

"Are you serious?"

"Yes," Pentos confirmed with a slight smile.

Skepticism flickered across the elder's face. His brow furrowed slightly as he leaned back, contemplating the situation.

"Is Maverick sufficient?" he inquired, glancing at the other individuals present.

One of the nearby elders responded after a brief hesitation.

"In theory, he should be. After all, Maverick is at Mythic rank, while Marquis Ethan is only at Legendary rank."

A hushed silence descended upon the room once more. The elder lightly tapped his fingers on the armrest, lost in thought.

"Hm..." he murmured.

Then, his gaze returned to Pentos.

"Then go quickly and ascertain if there is any news of his demise," he instructed.

His tone remained calm, yet an undercurrent of apprehension was detectable.

Pentos nodded again.

"Understood."

However, deep down, even he could not entirely shake off the burgeoning sense of unease.