Saiyates Territory, originally ruled by a lord determined to establish a world where demihumans and humans could coexist peacefully, always treated both groups equally.
However, during the first wave of disaster, Saiyates' territory was severely damaged, reigniting hatred between the king and the demihumans.
Seizing this opportunity, the king accused the lord of ineffective governance and stripped him of his territory.
The newly appointed lord, named Yatri, was aligned with the nobles supporting the king, and Saiyates Territory was renamed Yatri Territory.
In the castle-like building at the center of the territory, Yatri, a stout man with two mustaches at the corners of his mouth, held a whip in his hand, directing it toward a demihuman bound to a cross in front of him.
Each lash left a deep wound on the demihuman's body.
The whip was particularly cruel, imbued with a curse that amplified the suffering, causing the demihuman to scream in agonizing pain.
Yet Yatri showed no sign of stopping. The more agonized the screams, the louder and more gleeful his laughter became.
In the hall, the sounds of screams and laughter echoed in alternation.
The soldier standing next to him remained silent, staring straight ahead as if long accustomed to such scenes.
"A lowly demihuman like you dares to trample on my castle. This is the price you pay, do you understand?" Yatri shouted as he lashed the whip a few more times.
"My lord, my daughter is truly hungry. Please have mercy and give me some food," the demihuman pleaded, lowering his head. Despite his bloodied body and the blood trickling from his mouth, he mustered the strength to speak. Weak from days without food and covered in wounds, his voice was barely audible.
He and his daughter depended on each other for survival. With his daughter starving, he had come to Yatri's castle to beg for food. But upon setting foot on the castle grounds, the soldiers seized him.
Yatri, angered by the presence of a demihuman on his beloved castle's grounds, unleashed this punishment.
"Food? You still want food? Just die. It's a waste to give any to you."
Yatri paused to rest from his exertions, sneering at the demihuman in front of him.
"My lord, please, my daughter is truly dying. Just give me some food, and I'll do anything you ask," the demihuman implored, despite knowing the chances were slim.
"you can do anything, right? Alright, I'll give you food, but in exchange, I want your arm. Untie him," Yatri commanded.
At his order, the soldiers untied the rope from the cross. The weakened demihuman collapsed to the ground, his blood staining the floor.
"Let me see if your arm is more important than your daughter."
Yatri threw a knife in front of the demihuman, his expression amused as if he found the situation entertaining.
The demihuman glanced at the knife, then at Yatri. If he could, he would have picked up the knife and stabbed Yatri to free himself and all the demihumans in the territory.
But even with his blurred consciousness, he knew that in his current state, it was impossible. Yatri might even be hoping for him to attack, just to justify more torture or to target his fellow demihumans.
In that moment, the demihuman thought of many things—killing Yatri, freeing the others, and reuniting with his daughter.
"Damn it, I promised I'd return safely with food," he muttered, clenching his fist before finally reaching for the knife and slowly lifting it to his arm.
"Ah~~~"
The excruciating pain caused him to roll on the ground, but his weakened body soon stopped him, leaving him unable to scream further.
"How boring. Throw him out."
Yatri waved dismissively, uninterested in the display of family devotion.
"Yes!"
The soldier obeyed, lifting the demihuman and dragging him out.
At the castle gate, the demihuman was thrown harshly to the ground.
"Don't say the lord doesn't keep his word; here's your food."
A soldier sneered, throwing a small, moldy piece of bread the size of a fist at the demihuman. The piece of bread was so spoiled that even an ordinary family would have discarded it without hesitation.
Yet the demihuman clutched the bread tightly with his one remaining hand.
Just then, a small demihuman girl, appearing to be around ten years old, ran up to him and threw herself on him. "Dad, what's wrong with you?"
"Dad... Dad didn't break his promise. Dad got you food."
Forcing a smile, the demihuman held up the bread for his daughter. But he was so weak that he couldn't keep his grip; the bread slipped from his hand and rolled to the ground.
"Quick."
Hearing his faint voice, the girl hurriedly reached for the bread. Just as her hand was about to grab it, a soldier's foot stomped down on it.
"Oh... how did this bread roll to my feet?" the soldier mocked.
A malicious grin spread across his face as he twisted his foot on the bread, clearly doing it on purpose. The three soldiers behind him burst into laughter.
"Daddy's bread! You bastard, give the bread back to me and Daddy!"
The little girl cried as she stood up and began hitting the soldier with her small fists, though her efforts caused no harm.
Infuriated, the soldier kicked the girl away. "A mere demihuman, and you dare to attack me? You want to die!"
As he spoke, he drew his sword and prepared to stab the girl.
Just then, a short knife flew through the air, piercing the soldier's wrist and causing his sword to drop.
"Who's there?" the soldier shouted angrily, looking toward the darkness ahead.
"What a bunch of scum. You don't deserve to know who we are."
From the shadows, several figures emerged, all cloaked in black robes with hoods covering their faces. The only identifying mark was the large symbol "shield" printed on their cloaks.