Chapter 708 Take a Chance

The town square was now lay draped in a heavy blanket of tension. The flickering flames of the impending fire cast elongated shadows on the faces of the villagers, their expressions etched with a mix of fear and uncertainty. Ren's words, uttered with calm certainty, sliced through the air, resonating like a clarion call challenging the very fabric of their reality. "Whether you eat the meat or not, Voraxa will kill you. This I'm certain, and you know it too, don't you?" Ren's words strike true and echo through the collective consciousness of the villagers, forcing them to confront the harsh reality.

In the tormented heart of Obsidianreach's town square, a palpable divide cleaved through the villagers. Torn between the audacious proposition Ren presented and the ominous comfort of taking a chance with Voraxa letting them live.

They found themselves teetering on the precipice of a decision that would shape their fate.

Some nodded in reluctant agreement with Ren's plea, recognizing the potential for a different outcome, a chance to wrest control from the impending doom that Voraxa heralded.

Others, however, clung steadfastly to the familiarity of the sacrificial ritual, their fear of the unknown eclipsing any glimmer of hope Ren's words may have kindled.

The dissent among the villagers manifested audibly, a cacophony of conflicting voices echoing through the square.

Some spoke in hushed tones, entertaining the idea of killing Voraxa, while others vehemently insisted on adhering to appease her through sacrifice.

from the impending doom that Voraxa heralded.

sacrificial ritual, their fear of the unknown eclipsing any glimmer of Others, however, clung steadfastly to the familiarity of the hope Ren's words may have kindled.

Ren keenly observed the ebb and flow of opinions, recognizing that the delicate balance of belief hung on the precipice, waiting for a decisive nudge in his favor.

"He's got a point. Why not let them take on Voraxa?"

"But can they even defeat her?"

"Voraxa will be our doom if we don't do something!"

"We can't be sure of that! Maybe there's a chance she'll spare us if we offer up their souls!"

"You know that's not going to happen! She would kill us for even harboring surface dwellers in the first place! We should have them deal with her!"

"Yet, can we really trust them? They're from the surface. What's stopping them from turning on us once we release them?"

Anger radiated from Lorelai, and her teeth gritted as if she could physically ward off the dissenting opinions. "Ah. I will kill all of you once I!" she began, her threat hanging ominously in the charged air.

But before she could continue, Elena interjected, smiling at the villagers while glaring at Lorelai. "Of course not. Don't mind her. We can even draft a blood contract if you don't believe us."

Evie nodded in agreement.

The square fell into an uneasy silence, the villagers wrestling with the conflict between their innate fears and the tantalizing possibility of a different fate.

Ren seized the moment, recognizing that a little more persuasion could tip the scales in their favor. "Just think about it," he implored, his voice cutting through the quiet contemplation.

"Even if you kill us, and even if IF Voraxa lets you live, for how long will you endure her oppression? For how long will you cower in this h.e.l.lhole? Do you want your children and your family to live in fear forever?"

. . .

. . .

A profound s.h.i.+ft occurred among the villagers as the weight of Ren's words settled upon them. Their faces, once etched with hesitation, began to morph into expressions of contemplation and resolution.

Morgrimm drew a deep breath and exhaled with a sigh that seemed to reverberate into the very ceiling above.

"It's been long . . . so long since we've had peace," Morgrimm mused, his voice carrying the weight of years of hidden torment.

"At my age, I couldn't recall when was the last time I saw children smile and have full stomachs. I've forgotten what they sounded like when they happily played outside without fear of an attack or the haunting uncertainty of their next meal."

His words hung in the air, each syllable a testament to the prolonged suffering endured by the once-proud denizens of the Netherworld.

"Elder . . ." the villagers cried in unison, their voices a collective expression of both empathy and longing for change.

Morgrimm closed his eyes tightly as if trying to shut out the painful memories that lingered in the recesses of his mind.

"I've grown tired and weary of just hiding and fearing an attack or dying in hunger," he confessed, the weariness of his soul laid bare in the lines etched on his weathered face.

The villagers' faces were a mixture of sorrow and determination as they listened intently to the elder's words.

"Aren't you all?" Morgrimm asked a question that echoed through their hearts.

". . ."

". . ."

The collective silence that followed spoke volumes, each villager grappling with their own memories of strife and yearning for a life that had eluded them for far too long.

"Elder, does that mean . . ."

Morgrimm nodded solemnly and replied, "Maybe it's time to fight for once and die an honorable death by facing Voraxa. If we're going to die, we might as well die fighting. We're fearsome demons and devils. Since when have we lost our pride? We should be the ones instilling fear and not the other way around."

The villagers, stirred by the resonance of Morgrimm's words, wiped away their tears, their expressions transforming from sorrow to determined resolve.

The agreement in the elder's sentiments spread across their faces like a contagion, a collective decision made in the crucible of their shared suffering.

Morgrimm locked eyes with the villagers. With a heavy sigh, he dropped the torch onto the ground. The flames extinguished together with Ren's worries.

The symbolic act of discarding the torch signaled not only a departure from the old ways but also an embrace of newfound courage.

The Obsidianreach once shrouded in the darkness of fear, now stood on the precipice of a collective uprising against the tyranny of Voraxa.

As the flames flickered and the echoes of Morgrimm's proclamation lingered, a newfound sense of purpose ignited within the villagers.

The once-hidden fire of resilience and pride began to burn brightly, fueled by the collective determination to face the looming threat head-on, to fight for a chance at peace that had eluded them for far too long.

But then a voice echoed in the chamber.

"Nicely said!"