Chapter 385

• Three days later.
• Daemonikai had been right. Zaiper wished he had never lived to see this day.
• As he was paraded through the crowded square, head bowed, chains clinking with each step, humiliation was the only thing left in him. This—this—was abject disgrace. The worst of the worst. He was clad in nothing but soiled under-briefs, thick shackles chaining his hands and feet. The bindings laced with toxins, draining him of what remained of his strength. He couldn’t shift. Couldn’t run. Couldn’t fight.