Sanctuary: Safe Haven

Chapter 382 Grimruk's Gamble

Grimruk's heart thudded in his chest, but his face betrayed no emotion. He could feel the immense power radiating from the demon lord seated before him and the catastrophe-ranked manticore that had been lurking behind them the entire time. The presence of these forces was overwhelming, enough to send even the most experienced warrior into a panic. But Grimruk stood firm, unwilling to let the sheer weight of the situation break him. Igor and Milly, though both powerful in their own right, were already on edge, feeling the full brunt of the hostile atmosphere.

"Go on, speak," the demon Arceth taunted, his sharp, sinister voice cutting through the silence. His eyes gleamed with malicious amusement. "Are you scared just by seeing my master?"

The demon lord Novair reclined in his seat, observing them with mild interest, his crimson eyes narrowing as if already bored of the conversation. His power was undeniable, his aura radiating disaster-level danger, but Grimruk trusted his gut—he knew this demon lord could easily dispatch even the catastrophe-rank manticore if it came down to it.

Grimruk swallowed the rising tension and cleared his throat. "My master has gotten wind of black orcs in your premises, the same as my kind. He asks for a trade."

Novair's eyes sharpened, his amusement turning into a calculated stare. "A trade?" he repeated, his voice cold. "What could he possibly offer in exchange for something as valuable as black orcs?"

The fact that Novair hadn't outright denied their existence gave Grimruk a sliver of hope. There was a chance that this was real, that his people, or at least some of them, were still alive and under Novair's control. Grimruk had to play his cards right.

"It depends," Grimruk replied steadily, forcing calm into his voice. "My master would arrange whatever you might need in exchange for the black orcs. Depending on how many and how strong they are, my master would ensure that the trade is equal. Whatever it may be."@@@@

Novair's lips curled into a half-smile, one that was devoid of warmth. "Bold words for an orc," he said, his tone mocking. "But do you think your master can afford what I have spent years collecting?"

Grimruk's jaw tightened, but he didn't let the demon lord's words rattle him. "My master would not send me here to waste your time if he didn't have an offer that could meet your expectations. You are a demon lord, after all—someone of your power should not be trifled with, and neither would my master."

Novair studied him closely, as if trying to see through Grimruk's words. After a long, tense pause, the demon lord spoke, "Arceth."

The demon at Novair's side stepped forward, grinning wickedly. "Yes, my lord."

"My master holds an artifact," Grimruk said. "An artifact that allows communication with a primordial dragon."

At this, Novair's eyes widened, and the castle walls seemed to shake with his sudden interest. "A Primordial Dragon?" His voice was so loud that it echoed through the chamber. The sheer weight of his excitement sent a wave of unease through Grimruk. Plans were clearly forming in the demon lord's mind.

"This better be true, or I shall kill all of you," Novair growled, his voice lowering dangerously.

Grimruk nodded, maintaining his composure. "It is true. You may have one of your subordinates follow us for safeguarding. Once we retrieve the artifact, they will see it delivered into your hands."

Novair thought for a moment before speaking again. "Arceth, summon my two other subordinates. They will accompany this orc and safeguard the cargo." Read new chapters at My Virtual Library Empire

Soon, Arceth returned with two more subordinates—both disaster ranks. Two vampires, tall and foreboding, flanked the catastrophe-ranked manticore that had been watching silently from the shadows. The atmosphere grew even tenser as preparations were made.

Grimruk watched as the black orcs were brought up, chain by chain. His heart pounded as he scanned their faces, looking for any signs of familiarity. There were about or more1,000 black orcs or more, some of whom he could faintly recognize, while others were strangers to him. It didn't matter—his mission was to save them all.

As Arceth prepared the caravan, Grimruk turned his thoughts toward escape. The deal he'd made using Canna's name would hopefully buy them enough time to get the orcs out of Novair's domain and into the safety of the sanctuary. If they could pull it off, the demon lord's forces wouldn't be able to track them back to Canna.

The demon lord's subordinates began to position themselves around the caravan, their gazes sharp and ready. Grimruk knew that teleportation was their last resort, but it was an option he couldn't afford to waste. Timing would be everything.

As they prepared to depart, Grimruk gave Igor and Milly a subtle nod. They would have to stay vigilant, ready for anything. The real challenge was just beginning, and Grimruk knew that the road ahead was perilous.

With everything in place, Grimruk took a deep breath and muttered to himself, "For the tribe, and for Canna."