Disciples

"I would like to trade a favor of mine for some of your slaves," Kayden didn't even introduce himself—he didn't need to. His strength spoke for him.

"How big is this favor?" Kayden smiled and continued drinking his tea. Slowly, the pressure forced Jonas to concede. "Alright, what do you need?"

"Bring me your slaves with the strongest minds; talent and rank don't matter," Kayden already knew the next question.

"How strong?" It was obvious that an organization like this would know some people sought slaves only to break them. It was sick, but much more common than one might imagine.

"The ones still standing in five minutes." Kayden snapped his fingers, and a circle of mana emanated from him, spreading in all directions. It was mana mixed with a small part of Kayden's soul.

It extended everywhere, implanting a memory of ridiculous pain and despair in everyone. No one was spared; 99% of the people immediately passed out.