Path to Dominance in the Demonic Realm

The sun had reached its peak when the convoy began to move.

The chosen slaves were packed inside a massive carriage, reinforced with iron and thick wood. The heavy wheels rolled over the rugged road, producing a faint yet steady creaking sound as they left the valley behind.

Zarathos sat in a corner of the carriage, his back pressed against the wooden wall, his eyes quietly observing.

There were more than twenty slaves inside. Most of them were silent—some gripped by fear, others tense, and a few had already resigned themselves to their fate.

Outside, the guards rode in formation, their horses moving in synchronized rhythm. Zarathos could hear the steady clatter of hooves against the dirt road.

"The Belgrade family, huh?"

The name wasn't familiar to him, but it didn't need to be.

From what he had gathered from the other slaves, it was a noble house—wealthy enough to own vast lands and servants, but not one of the great families that ruled this world.

They were powerful, but not the most powerful.

That was interesting.

"Why would a family like that send slaves to the Shadow Mines?"

It didn't quite make sense yet, but Zarathos wasn't in a rush to understand.

All would be revealed in time.

---

The hours dragged on slowly, and the road widened as they traveled further.

Through a small opening in the carriage, Zarathos glimpsed rolling hills and sprawling fields stretching out on both sides.

It was a stark contrast to the bleak valley where he had spent the past few days.

This land was alive.

But that didn't matter.

What mattered was what awaited them at their destination.

---

As dusk approached, the guards shifted their formation. Their growing wariness was clear.

That could only mean one thing: they were close.

And sure enough, an hour later, the convoy arrived at a massive iron gate, flanked by towering stone walls.

"The Belgrade Estate."

It wasn't the grandest estate Zarathos had seen in his past life, but it was lavish enough to make the other slaves stare in a mix of awe and dread.

Lights flickered behind glass windows, and he could see servants and guards moving about the inner courtyard.

This was not a place meant for slaves. That much was obvious.

Yet tonight… they would stay here.

Not because the family cared for their comfort, but because the journey to the Shadow Mines couldn't be completed in a single day.

It was too far.

And the road was too dangerous to travel at night.

"This is an opportunity."

Zarathos didn't know yet what he could do here, but every change in his surroundings was a new chance to gather information—to understand more about this world, this body, and the people who now controlled his fate.

---

The carriage came to a halt in a spacious courtyard before the estate.

The guards wasted no time opening the doors and barking orders.

"Out! One by one!"

Zarathos stepped out with the others, his eyes scanning his surroundings with quiet caution.

Near the entrance, a group of servants stood watching.

Their expressions were a mix of disdain and indifference.

To them, the slaves were nothing more than property. Things.

But among them, there was one girl—a servant with dark brown hair and striking blue eyes—who looked at them differently.

Not with pity.

But with… curiosity.

"Who is she?"

Before he could dwell on it, a guard's voice cut through the air.

"You will be given a temporary chamber. Any attempt to escape will be punished immediately!"

The slaves were led inside the estate, through long corridors illuminated by golden lanterns, until they reached a large, nearly empty room.

The only things inside were thin sleeping mats on the cold floor.

"Stay here until you are summoned," the guard ordered before shutting the heavy wooden door behind them.

---

Zarathos sat down, but he wasn't at ease.

He knew tonight would be full of surprises.

The other slaves looked exhausted. Some lay down immediately, too drained to care about anything else. Others sat in silence, still processing their new reality.

But Zarathos?

He was alert.

Every detail in this estate could be a key to understanding why they had been chosen.

And it could be the first step toward reclaiming his power.

But he knew he had to be careful.

Because this place, despite its elegance, hid more than it revealed.

And tonight… could be the true beginning of everything.

---

Zarathos was not the kind of man who allowed himself to relax.

Even when others succumbed to exhaustion and fear, his mind remained sharp—watching, analyzing, thinking.

His gaze slowly swept across the room, studying every detail—the old stone walls, with faint cracks running through them; the cold, clean floor, which seemed rarely used; the high ceiling, sturdy but not flawless.

These weren't meaningless observations. They were pieces of a puzzle.

Moving carefully, as if looking for a comfortable spot, he subtly tested the ground beneath him. It was solid, meaning there were no hidden chambers or tunnels below—at least, not in this room.

The other slaves didn't notice his movements.

Most were lost in their own thoughts or too overwhelmed to care.

But Zarathos was not like them.

He knew survival required more than just waiting for orders.

A small window sat in the corner of the room, slightly higher than their heads.

Casually, he walked toward it, leaning against the wall as if merely stretching.

Then, tilting his head slightly, he peered outside.

The estate was bathed in golden light, giving it a warm glow in the darkness.

But what caught his attention wasn't the beauty of the place.

It was the guards.

They moved in coordinated patrols—four in each group, their eyes sweeping the grounds with practiced precision.

This meant one thing: the security here was not just for show. It was well-planned.

But more importantly, there were gaps.

Small, fleeting moments when certain areas were left unguarded.

It wasn't something he could use now.

But it was something to remember.

Turning his attention back inside, he studied the heavy wooden door that had been shut behind them.

There was no visible lock on their side, but the hinges were strong.

It would be difficult to force open without making noise.

Not that he needed to escape now.

That wasn't his goal.

He needed to understand more.

To learn who he was dealing with.

Breathing slowly, he closed his eyes for a moment—focusing inward.

That faint thread of energy…

It was still there.

Weak, barely perceptible, but present.

"This body is frail… but it holds potential."

It had something his previous body didn't.

A raw talent.

Something he needed to harness.

Something that could make him stronger than he had ever been before.

He opened his eyes when he sensed someone watching him.

A young man sat nearby, his damp hair clinging to his forehead, his expression hesitant.

"You… seem too calm."

It wasn't a question.

More of an observation.

Zarathos studied him for a moment before replying in a quiet voice.

"Worrying changes nothing."

The young man looked as if he wanted to say more, but quickly shut his mouth when a guard entered the room.

"Enough stalling! Wash up and change into these!"

He threw a pile of simple garments onto the floor before stepping back outside.

One by one, the slaves dressed. The fabric was rough and uncomfortable, but better than the rags they had worn before.

When they were finally led back outside, Lord Caron stood beside his carriage, watching them with cold, calculating eyes.

The journey was about to continue.

But to where?

And what awaited them there?

Zarathos didn't have the answers yet.

But he knew one thing for certain.

"Whatever awaits me… I will not be just another slave in this story."