Chapter 97: Trade Market (4)

Amidst the chaos, the blaring alarm reverberated through the trading market, alerting the guards to the impending threat.

Denver, taking charge of the situation, urgently directed the group toward the trade hub. Inside, the shocking reality of enslaved people awaited them – a diverse array of faces, young and old, all victims of the trade market's brutality.

"These are...," Denver's group fell silent, grappling with the harsh truth that fellow humans were subjected to such cruelty. The guards, closing in, surrounded the trade hub, issuing a threatening ultimatum.

"Surrender now or we'll kill you all inside!" The guards' ominous warning hung in the air.

"What should we do now?" the bartender asked, uncertainty clouding his expression.

"Release the slaves. We can take care of these," Denver asserted, determined to confront the oppressors outside.

As the bartender and his group worked to free the enslaved, Denver addressed the soldiers, "Okay, I'll take charge from here on. Go and take positions! We're gonna fight back!" His resolve echoed in the tense atmosphere.

Outside the pub, reinforcements, including the general who tolerated the atrocities, had arrived. "While we are still kind! Get on your knees and surrender! In a count of ten I want you all to get out and show yourself!" He shouted with a microphone, he then initiated a countdown, demanding surrender.

"10!"

"9!"

"8!"

"7!"

"6!"

"5!"

"4!"

"3!"

"2!"

The general paused, ready to give the final order. Before he could utter "1," Denver and his team erupted, defiantly shouting, "Go f*ck yourself!"

In response, gunfire erupted from both sides. The guards scrambled for cover as Denver's team unleashed a fierce counterattack.

"Shit! Counter fire!" the general barked, signaling a chaotic exchange of bullets and explosions in the night. The skirmish intensified, echoing the clash between oppressors and those determined to liberate the enslaved.

The fate of the trade market hung in the balance as Denver's group fought fiercely against the entrenched forces.

The night sky was lit up by the flashes of gunfire and explosions, as Denver's team engaged in a fierce firefight with the guards of the trade market. The sound of bullets and shrapnel whizzed through the air, creating a cacophony of violence and destruction. Denver, the leader of the rebel group, shouted to his comrades, "Hold the line! We can't let them oppress these people any longer!"

Inside the trade hub, a scene of horror and despair greeted them. Rows of cages filled with enslaved people of all ages and backgrounds, their eyes dull and hopeless. The bartender and his group, who had joined Denver's cause, quickly unlocked the cages and freed the captives. A young man, his face bruised and scarred, stepped forward and spoke with a defiant tone, "We'll fight with you," he declared, a sentiment echoed by others.

Denver smiled, "It's okay, we're just buying time after all" he said, then the reinforcements came. Shooting the guards from all over the angels.

"We're surrounded!!" The group shouted, however, as they were once soldiers they didn't panic. But instead fall back and went to a house just next to them.

"Do not worry! We can win this! Show them the spirit of the militar—" before he could finish talking, a sleeping smoke bomb was thrown to the window of the house.

"Shit! Cover your mouths!" The general ordered, however because of this. The soldiers of Souta take this chance and immediately went in with their gas masks on.

"You fucker! Who do you think you are messing with the military!" One of the guards yelled, but he was quickly silenced by a bullet to his head. The soldiers of Souta used hand signals to communicate and coordinate their attack, taking down the guards one by one.

The battle was over. Denver's team and the freed people had won. They had liberated the trade hub, and brought hope to the oppressed.

As the first rays of the sun pierced through the dark clouds, the center of the trading market became a makeshift arena, surrounded by the debris and the bloodstains of the previous night's chaos. Souta's soldiers stood as a formidable force, their stern expressions reflecting the gravity of the situation.

In the center, the captured individuals—those who had facilitated slavery, raided bases, and fueled the cruel trade—were dragged and tied up. The liberated slaves, now free, watched with a mix of anger and satisfaction as justice loomed.

Souta, standing at the forefront, addressed the gathered crowd. "This market, which was built upon the suffering of others, sacrifices by the people and was supposed to be a safe haven for the people. However these people take advantage of it! They have no shame upon the motherland! These people are even soldiers from the military yet they allowed slavery from this town for their own benefits! Do you agree to let them be alive and rot in the prison!? Or do you agree that we shall kill them for their sins!?" Souta shouted.

"Kill them!"

"Kill those bastards!"

"My husband died because of them!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

"Kill!"

The trade market united, The condemned, faces marked by fear and guilt, awaited their fate. The crowd, a mix of survivors and liberated slaves, demanded justice. The atmosphere was heavy with a thirst for retribution.