Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?

Chapter 359: This is Bad

Alaric ducked low. Tried to slip past the hooded figure.

But Lyssa was faster.

Her hand shot out closing around his forearm before he’d completed the dodge.

She yanked him sideways.

Alaric slammed into the wall. Stone scraping through his shirt. His injured shoulder screaming protest.

CLANK! CLANK!

The vials in his pockets rattled violently against each other.

Before he could recover—

Lyssa twisted his arms behind him.

Cold metal clicked around his wrists, restraining artifacts that immediately suppressed his essence, making it impossible to channel or resist.

SLAM!

She drove him forward into the wall again. His cheek pressed against rough stone. The remaining vials clinked dangerously.

Only if there weren’t restrictions... The thought flashed through Alaric’s mind with bitter frustration. If I could actually use my actual power, this would be—

But he couldn’t. And he was pinned and helpless.

He hissed through gritted teeth. "Who are you? Why are you doing this?"

Lyssa said nothing. Just silence behind that hood.

Then her knee drove into the back of his legs, precise strike to pressure points that made his muscles give out involuntarily.

Alaric’s knees buckled.

He dropped, only Lyssa’s grip on the restraints keeping him from face-planting completely. Forced into kneeling position in the middle of the street.

The crowd gasped. Murmuring rippled through the gathered onlookers.

The wealthy woman stepped closer. Looked down at him with expression of cold satisfaction.

"What else should we expect from barbarian trash?" Her voice carried clearly. "You assault a respectable woman in broad daylight. And when confronted, you have the audacity to argue?"

Alaric’s eyes went wide. "What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t assault anyone! She walked into me—"

"LIES!" The woman with the scattered produce, the one who’d collided with him, stepped forward. Her anger had transformed into something practiced. "He grabbed my arm! Tried to pull me into the alley! If I hadn’t screamed—"

Revna turned to the crowd. Raised her voice. "Did anyone else witness this barbarian’s behavior? His assault on this poor woman?"

Silence for a heartbeat.

Then—

"I saw him grab her!" A man near the front. His voice uncertain but growing confident. "Definitely grabbed her!"

"He was lurking!" Another voice. Woman this time. "Just standing there like he was waiting for someone vulnerable!"

"Barbarian scum!" Someone else spat. "They come to our city and think they can do whatever they want!"

More voices joined. Building on each other. Creating narrative from nothing. Feeding off mob mentality and Revna’s obvious authority.

Alaric stared at them. At the crowd actively lying. Creating false testimony in real-time.

They’re all... they’re just making this up.

His jaw clenched. "What the fuck is wrong with you all?"

SLAM!

Lyssa drove him into the wall again. Harder this time. His forehead cracked against stone. Vision went white for a moment. Blood trickled from a cut above his eyebrow.

"Such vulgar language," Revna hissed. Her face was close now.

"Assaulting women. Destroying property. Using obscenities in public. You’re going to the magistrate, barbarian. And then..." Her smile was sharp. Predatory. "You’ll learn what happens to likes of you, who forget their place in Ashfeld."

She straightened. Addressed the crowd again. "Someone fetch the city guards! This criminal needs to be properly detained!"

"Already here, Mistress Revna."

Two guards pushed through the crowd. Women in leather armor. Official insignia marking them as city watch.

They looked at Alaric, bloodied, restrained, kneeling in the street. Then at Revna’s expensive clothing and authoritative bearing.

"What’s the charge?" one guard asked.

"Assault," Revna said smoothly. "Against Merchant Tessa here. Witnesses can confirm. And destruction of property. And public disturbance. And resisting a citizen’s lawful detention."

The guard nodded. "We’ll take him to the magistrate."

"Wait—!" Alaric started.

Lyssa’s hand pressed against the back of his head. Forcing his face toward the ground. Silencing him without words.

The guards moved forward. One of them pulled him roughly to his feet.

"You have the right to speak before the magistrate," the guard said flatly. "Until then, keep quiet."

They started dragging him away. Through the crowd that parted with expressions mixing satisfaction and disgust.

And Alaric could only process the rapidly escalating disaster with growing horror.

This is a setup. But why? Why target me specifically? I’ve been in this city less than a day!

But no answers came. Just the guards pulling him through Ashfeld’s streets.

****

Henry walked with spring in his step. A satisfied smile on his face.

"Today was profitable," he muttered to himself, weaving through the market crowds with practiced ease. "Very profitable. Three new contracts. The grain merchant from the eastern district wants regular deliveries. And that spice trader—"

He chuckled. "He practically begged for our next shipment."

Henry adjusted the manifest papers tucked under his arm. Double-checked the sealed agreements he’d negotiated while Alaric was at the healer’s.

"Vanessia’s going to be really happy. Might even get that smile."

He grinned to himself. "Maybe she’ll make that cake she only makes for special occasions. Anya will be thrilled."

The morning sun was warm on his face. The town bustled around him with familiar energy. Everything felt... right.

He turned onto the street leading toward the healer’s shop. Where he’d left Alaric.

But his steps slowed.

As he saw a large crowd gathered in the middle of the street ahead.

Blocking traffic. People murmuring, craning necks to see something.

What’s going on?

Henry’s merchant instincts kicked in. Crowds meant either opportunity or trouble. And the feel of this one... the energy, the voices—

Trouble.

He pushed forward. "Excuse me. Pardon. Coming through."

People shifted grudgingly. Let him pass because he was insistent rather than polite.

He broke through the front of the crowd just in time to see.

City guards dragging someone away.

A young man. Bloodied. Hands restrained behind his back with suppression cuffs.

Crimson eyes that caught the light.

Henry’s breath stopped.

Azra?

His mind refused to process it for a heartbeat.

Then everything clicked into horrible focus.

They have him.

"Wait!" Henry’s voice cracked as he pushed forward. "WAIT! That’s... he’s with me! There’s been a mistake!"

One of the guards turned. Looked at him with expression that suggested she’d heard similar protests a thousand times and believed none of them.

"Step back, citizen."

"No, you don’t understand," Henry tried to get closer. "He was just—"

"He assaulted a woman," the guard interrupted flatly. "We have multiple witnesses. He’s going before the magistrate. If you have testimony, you can present it there."

"Assaulted? That’s..." Henry looked at Alaric’s bloodied face. At the way he was being manhandled. "That’s impossible. He wouldn’t—"

But the guards were already moving. Dragging Alaric away through the crowd.

Henry stood frozen. Watching them disappear around the corner.

His mind racing.

This is bad. Very bad.

I need to tell Vanessia fast.

He turned and ran.