Devil Slave (Satan system)-Chapter 1226: Finding The Spy

The mess hall had been transformed for the gathering, its usual chaotic arrangement replaced by a more formal setup. At the head of the long table sat a prominent seat reserved for Victor, his authority as the Alpha evident in its elevated position. Flanking him were two other chairs: one occupied by Tomato, who lounged indifferently with a leg propped on the table, tearing aggressively into a hunk of roasted mutated beast meat; the other by Perseus, who sat upright with a composed demeanor.

The lower levels were filled with rows of commanders, seated according to rank. The generals sat closest to the head table, their stern faces betraying a mix of reverence and tension. Below them were the colonels, majors, and captains, each positioned meticulously to reflect the hierarchy.

Enel was given a separate seat off to the side, away from the primary congregation. He could feel the weight of countless eyes on him—some burning with contempt, others seething with annoyance, and a few glinting with curiosity. Whispers drifted around the room, murmurs he couldn’t help but overhear.

"So, that’s Allison’s son?" one commander sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

"He looks nothing like her," muttered another, glancing at Enel with a mix of skepticism and irritation.

"If he’s anything like his mother, we’ll be cleaning up the aftermath of his reckless stunts for years," a general grumbled under his breath, earning a few chuckles.

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Enel clenched his jaw, keeping his face impassive. It was clear that his mother had left an indelible mark on this place, her legacy however was not his business.

After all, right now, she was not just his mother but also his woman. Then again, he was interested in the kind of person she was to this people. After all, before he had turned back the wheels of time, she had proven herself to be very strict and also very capable.

In his opinion, a lot of it was actually jealousy. Then again, none of his women had been ordinary. All touched by Lady Death, it was not possible that they were not special in their own way.

Moments later, the air shifted as Victor strode into the hall. The room fell silent instantly, and every commander rose to their feet in unison, saluting with a look of unwavering respect. Victor waved a hand, motioning for them to sit. As he settled into his seat, his imposing presence commanded the room.

Tomato, however, barely acknowledged him, continuing to gnaw at her meal with an almost exaggerated disinterest. Perseus, on the other hand, gave a respectful nod in Victor’s direction before resuming his composed demeanor.

Enel noted the quiet tension between the head table and the rest of the hall. Tomato’s blatant disregard didn’t seem to bother Victor, who glanced at her briefly before focusing on the commanders. It was clear to everyone that her rebellious nature was a constant, one that Victor had long since chosen to tolerate.

Victor’s calm yet dominating aura set the tone for the meeting. The room was thick with unspoken anticipation, the recent events with the fallen angels casting a heavy shadow over the gathering. Even Tomato’s indifference, as much as it irritated some of the more disciplined commanders, couldn’t derail the sense of impending action that hung in the air.

Victor raised his head, his piercing gaze sweeping across the room of gathered commanders. His voice was calm but carried an edge of authority that demanded immediate attention. "A report has reached me," he began, "that there is a spy for the Fallen Angels within our ranks."

The words were a spark in a powder keg. A murmur rippled through the commanders, growing louder with each passing second until it erupted into a cacophony of disbelief and anger.

One of the commanders, a towering figure with broad shoulders and a thick frame unusual for a werewolf, rose to his feet. His bulky build was accentuated by a heavy jawline and small, shrewd eyes that glinted under the room’s dim light. His name was Commander Boric, known for his booming voice and unyielding loyalty to the pack. "My loyalty and honor lie with the pack, always!" he thundered, slamming a fist against his armored chest. "If such a traitor exists, I will personally hunt them down and sentence them to fanging!"

The room buzzed with agreement as several other commanders nodded, their fists pounding tables or chest plates in unison. Enel, standing to the side with his ever-present cocky smirk, observed Boric carefully, filing the man’s boldness and loyalty away for later consideration.

Victor raised a hand, silencing the uproar as quickly as it began. "I understand your dedication, Boric," he said, his tone measured. "But today, the judge will not be you." His gaze shifted deliberately to Enel, and his hand rose to point at him. "Today, the judge will be Enel."

A collective gasp echoed through the room. Commanders exchanged glances of shock and disbelief.

"What?" one barked. Another leaned forward, his face twisted in outrage.

One of the older commanders, his gray-streaked beard quivering with barely restrained anger, slammed his chair back and rose to his feet. "Victor!" he snarled. "This boy—this pup—is the son of one who abandoned the pack. He cannot be trusted! For all we know, he could be the spy!"

The murmur of agreement spread quickly, and soon more commanders were standing, their voices a mix of outrage and suspicion. "He’s right!" one shouted. "Who’s to say this isn’t some elaborate plan?"

Through it all, Enel stood with his hands in his pockets, leaning casually against a pillar. His smirk never faltered, his demeanor a mixture of arrogance and indifference.

Before the cacophony could reach a fever pitch, there was a sudden, sharp crack.

The room fell into immediate silence as Tomato, sitting in her corner with a plate of food in front of her, flicked a bone from the meat she had been chewing. It shot through the air like a projectile, embedding itself squarely into the forehead of the first complaining commander.

The commander froze, his words cut short as the bone stuck in place, trembling slightly. A faint trickle of blood ran down his face. The other commanders quickly sat down, some swallowing audibly, their courage evaporating under the force of Tomato’s aura.

Her eyes glowed faintly as she leaned back in her chair, licking her fingers lazily. "Anyone else?" she asked, her voice sweet but laced with a warning.

The commanders shook their heads, avoiding her gaze entirely.

The unfortunate commander fell to the ground, he was dead.