The roar of human fury drowned out Viren's begging mid-sentence.
Only then did it hit him—really hit him—what they'd done to the humans in this compound since they occupied it.
Back when it was happening, he hadn't felt a thing about it. In a world where the strong preyed on the weak, that was simply how every race survived.
In their original world, weak races were almost always enslaved by stronger ones. That was the rule, not the exception.
And if the human race hadn't happened to have someone this terrifying backing them?
Viren wouldn't have thought he'd done anything wrong. Not for a second.
It was only now—now that he needed to beg—that he suddenly remembered: he didn't even have the right to beg.
A messy, bitter mix churned in his chest. For the first time, something like regret finally surfaced.
But it was too late.
As that horrifying soulless thrall lunged at him again, Viren whirled around and charged straight into the Verdants' ranks.
