they weren't happy about it.
Sylmira's expression twisted with fury and disgust. Her emerald eyes locked onto Lucas, her grip on the dagger tightening until her knuckles turned white.
"You…," she hissed. "Do you even realize what you've done?"
Lucas exhaled slowly, keeping his expression neutral. "I freed the prisoners."
"You freed monsters," she spat, stepping closer, voice seething with barely contained rage. "These creatures—these barbarians—were caged for a reason. You think they deserve our mercy? They were born without mana. The Spirits did not bless them, Lucas. They are filth—savages. Their existence is a mistake."
A heavy silence followed her words.
The kneeling orcs and beastmen flinched but didn't rise. Some clenched their fists, but none spoke against her.
Lucas's stomach twisted. He had seen prejudice before, but hearing it so plainly spoken, with such utter conviction, made his skin crawl.
"That's bullshit," he said flatly.
