Strongest Kingdom: My Op Kingdom Got Transported Along With Me-Chapter 364 363: Tsia

Down a narrow alley, a merchant whispers to a client. "I hear news from the south… the human army's been crushed near trying to retake Plison City. Strange… no one seems to be talking about it yet."
His client laughs nervously, waving a hand dismissively. "Bah! Propaganda, probably."
From a high balcony, another noblewoman peers down at her slaves, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Ensure the cages are clean before the auctions," she orders. "I want them presentable for the buyers."
In the residential district, servants hurry along cobbled paths carrying trays, filling fountains with fresh water, lighting torches. Children of the wealthy chase each other through gardens, oblivious to the suffering around them.
No one notices the distant horizon yet, the wind carrying with it the faint, unnatural hum of an approaching army. No bells ring. No messengers arrive. The citizens continue their routines, the slaves continue their toil, and the nobles continue their small intrigues, unaware that their city, built on the chains of hundreds of thousands, stands on the brink of chaos.
Inside Bakwell City's upper district, a luxurious slave shop opens its gilded doors.
The building is wide and tall, its white stone walls polished to a mirror sheen. Gold inlays trace the arches. Mana lamps float gently near the ceiling, casting a warm, flattering glow meant to make everything inside look beautiful, even the suffering.
Velvet curtains divide the showroom into sections.
Soft music plays.
The scent of incense hangs thick in the air.
A new shipment arrives.
Iron chains clink softly as monster slaves are guided inside through a reinforced side entrance. They are all humanoid, all exhausted, all wearing identical collars engraved with control runes.
Among them is a group with soft fur, long ears, and delicate frames, bunny-featured monsters.
The handlers push them forward without ceremony.
"Careful with this batch," a merchant says lazily, adjusting his silk gloves. "They're popular. Don't damage the merchandise."
"Yes, sir," a guard replies, yanking a chain to force one of the monsters to stand straighter.
The bunny-featured monsters flinch at every sound.
They are led into the cages of the store, spacious, clean, lined with cushions to give the illusion of comfort. Bars of enchanted silver slide shut with a quiet click.
In one of the cages, a twenty three girl stumbles and nearly falls.
She catches herself just in time, and immediately turns, wrapping her arms around a smaller figure.
Her little sister.
The younger one can't be more than eight or nine. Her ears tremble uncontrollably, pressed flat against her head. Her hands clutch the front of her sister's shirt like it's the only solid thing left in the world.
"Don't look," the older sister whispers urgently, pulling her closer. "Don't look at them. Just… just stay here."
The little one's voice shakes. "S-Sis… where are they taking us?"
The older sister swallows. Her throat hurts. Her chest feels tight.
"I don't know," she lies softly. "But I'm here. I won't let go."
Outside the cage, two wealthy patrons stop in front of the row.
One of them hums thoughtfully. "Good condition. Very docile, from the look of it."
The shopkeeper smiles, folding his hands. "Bred carefully. Trained from a young age. Obedience comes naturally to this species."
The older sister stiffens as their shadows fall across the bars.
Her body moves instinctively, stepping in front of her sibling, ears lowering, shoulders squared despite the fear burning through her veins.
The younger girl presses her face into her sister's chest.
"I'm scared," she whispers.
"I know," the older one murmurs, voice trembling despite her effort. "I know. Just… hold on to me. No matter what happens."
A handler taps the bars with a metal rod.
"This one's older," he says. "Strong enough. The smaller one—still untrained."
The shopkeeper clicks his tongue lightly. "They'll fetch a higher price together. Keep them presentable."
The shop's front doors open with a soft chime.
Conversation inside the showroom fades instantly.
The shop owner straightens at once, his practiced smile widening as he turns.
"Ah, my lord," he says warmly. "Welcome. We weren't expecting you so early."
A man steps inside, flanked by two armed attendants.
He wears a tailored coat embroidered with his house crest, rings heavy with gemstones adorning his fingers. His posture is relaxed, confident, the ease of someone accustomed to being obeyed.
A viscount.
One of the shop's most important clients.
"Spare me the pleasantries," the viscount says, waving a hand as his eyes sweep the cages. "I heard you received a fresh batch."
"Only the finest," the shop owner replies smoothly. "Would you like a private viewing?"
The viscount's gaze stops.
On one cage.
On two figures pressed tightly together.
The older bunny-featured girl stands stiffly in front, arms wrapped protectively around the smaller one. Her long ears are pinned flat, her body trembling despite her effort to remain still.
The viscount smiles.
"That one," he says. "And the little one with her."
Tsia's heart slams against her ribs.
No.
Her grip tightens instinctively.
The shop owner steps closer to the cage, inspecting them with a merchant's eye. "Sisters," he says. "Rare. The older one is healthy. The younger will grow well."
Tsia shakes her head violently.
"N-No," she blurts out, her voice breaking. "Please, don't separate us. Please."
The viscount chuckles softly. "Ohh, she's begging."
The shop owner says lightly. "They're not trained yet."
Tsia feels her little sister shaking harder now.
"Sis…" the small voice whispers. "I don't want to go."
Tsia's chest burns.
She presses her forehead to her sister's. "Don't listen," she murmurs desperately. "Don't look at them. I won't let them take you."
The viscount tilts his head, amused. "How inconvenient."
He turns to the shop owner. "Name your price."
The shop owner hesitates only a moment before smiling. "For a pair like this… and considering your status, my lord—"
A number is spoken.
Tsia doesn't understand gold values.
But she understands finality.
The shop owner nods. "Agreed."
The viscount gestures lazily to his attendants. "Take them."
The men step forward. The cage lock hums. Tsia's breath comes in sharp, shallow gasps.
No no no.
Something inside her snaps.
Not like a scream.
Like a thread pulled too far.
The world seems to tilt.
For an instant, everything goes quiet. Tsia didn't scream. She doesn't know her eyes flare faintly.
She only knows one thought, overwhelming, absolute.
Stop.
The two attendants freeze.
The viscount frowns. "What are you waiting for?"
The men turn.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
The viscount doesn't even finish his breath.
He collapses backward, eyes wide, blood spreading across the polished floor.
Silence explodes through the showroom.
"What—?!" the shop owner staggers back. "Guards! GUARDS!"
The two men move again.
But now they're screaming.
They slash wildly, eyes empty, faces twisted in terror and confusion, attacking anything near them.
Customers scatter.
Guards rush in, weapons raised.
"Put him down!"
Magic flares.
Blades strike.
The attendants fall, twitching, lifeless. The floor is stained red. The viscount lies dead in the center of the shop.
Dead in a place meant for trade.
The guards move fast.
Too fast for the shop owner's liking, too slow to undo what's already happened.
Steel rings as halberds and swords slam into the two rampaging. One guard takes a slash across the arm and screams, stumbling back. Another drives a spear through a man's chest, pinning him to the marble floor.
The second one lunges blindly, foam at his lips, eyes unfocused.
"Hold him down!" someone shouts.
A stun spell detonates at his feet.
Light flares.
The man convulses once, then collapses, unmoving.
Silence crashes down over the showroom.
It is not the quiet of peace.
It is the stunned, choking quiet that follows a scream.
Blood spreads slowly across the polished floor, seeping into the grooves between tiles. The viscount lies on his back, eyes staring at nothing, mouth slightly open as if he still can't believe it.
Dead.
Inside the shop.
The shop owner stares at the body, face drained of color.
"…A viscount," he whispers hoarsely. "A viscount died in my store."
His knees nearly buckle.
"Seal the doors!" he snaps suddenly, panic bleeding into his voice. "Nobody leaves! Lock it down, now!"
Guards rush to obey, slamming the reinforced doors shut. Runes flare briefly along the walls as defensive formations activate.
Customers huddle near the walls, pale and shaking.
"What just happened…?"
"Those men, why did they—?"