Although Simon had been looking forward to the appearance of a merchant or better, a member of a clan in their tribe.
He had no idea what reason the merchant or clan members had, but he didn't think too much of it.
The tribe was calm despite knowing that they were going to have guests or a guest who was most likely stronger than them. So, the chances of them being in danger was low.
To Simon, if it was a merchant, he hoped to be able to purchase something, anything from the merchant. Even if it was a normal steel sword.
Although he might raise eyebrows if he was able to produce the money for such a thing, he believed that as long as he did not spend too much money, he would be able to avoid suspicion. Especially after making everybody in the village to believe he was their hope with his talent in swordsmanship.
If it was a clan member instead of a merchant, Simon's plan would depend on the personality and goal of the clan member.
If possible, he would want to leave with the clan member to obtain better opportunities, but he knew that the chances of such a thing happening was low... especially in the demon realm.
After making several contingency plans and simulations as to how the following day might go, their special guest arrived.
The Merchant.
In the demon realm, there were demons who wandered the demon realm and sold their treasures to anybody that could buy them.
They had no fixed location, and finding one without appropriate means was as difficult as increasing one's bloodline talents.
These demons were called Merchants, and they were usually of one race.
The Daegrin.
The Merchant had ash-gray skin that was covered with faint red runic veins that pulsed slowly as though his blood was molten. His eyes were like old glass that was marred with veins of ink, and the scent of burned parchment and blood was exuded from his body.
He had long, straight, and silver-gray hair that was tied loosely behind his neck. On his head were two short, curved ash-gray horns pointing backward.
He wore a layered dark robe stitched from beast leather and demon spider silk, a typical merchant's attire that was definitely too clean for the wildlands.
A bone-carved necklace that hummed faintly with mana hung from his neck, and multiple rings with eyes carved into them adorned six of his fingers.
The moment Simon laid his eyes on the Merchant, his body shivered uncontrollably because he could sense the immense power the demon possessed.
If he was not wrong, the demon was either an Archfiend or a Greater Demon. The Merchant either had an Infernal Heart or a Forged Heart, and this was far stronger than even their tribal chief who was the strongest individual in the group.
Their tribal chief was a demon with a Burning Heart. A fiend at the Supreme grade to be exact.
Compared to the Merchant who was either an Archfiend or a Greater Demon, the tribal chief was nothing.
'If he wants to wipe out the entire tribe, he can do it in less than a minute if he was an Archfiend. But if he was a Greater Demon... then a wave of his hand was more than enough to disintegrate their entire tribe to dust.'
For the first time since he was born in the demon realm, Simon felt frustrated by his weaknesses. Because he had not even awakened his demon heart, he was not certain what stage of demonic heart the Merchant had attained.
This lack of information was dangerous, or was it?
'Whether he's an Archfiend or a Greater Demon does not matter. Both are extremely dangerous to the tribe and to me.'
Simon had this thought as he observed the Merchant who was being approached by the tribal chief and the head of security of the tribe.
"My tribal chief." The Merchant greeted with a smile that did not reach his eyes, and Varkamon, the tribal chief was taken aback by the Merchant's greeting.
"You jest, Sir Zaglur." Varkamon chuckled with a forced smile at the Merchant, Zaglur.
Inwardly, his heart was beating far faster than normal because of Zaglur's aura. It was not only because Zaglur had a more powerful demonic heart Varkamon felt an instinctive fear toward Zaglur.
It was mainly because of Zaglur's bloodline. The bloodline of the Daegrins was far more powerful than the inferior bloodline Varkamon had.
Even if they had the same grade of demonic heart, Zaglur's bloodline which was a noble bloodline was far too powerful for a demon like Varkamon to withstand.
'With his bloodline alone, he can make me kneel without lifting a finger.' Varkamon's eyes flashed with fear and reverence as he looked at the ever present smile on Zaglur's lips.
"The goods. Where are they? I'll make sure to offer a good price for them."
Zaglur's words caused Varkamon to recall that they were actually here on a rather important business.
"Forgive my manners, Sir Zaglur. I'll get them."
He bowed, and then he looked at the head of security.
"Bring them out."
The demon nodded, and then he whistled at a nearby building.
To the surprise of Simon and the other demons that were watching, several guards held chains and dragged forward dozens of demons.
The moment they saw the demons that were being dragged out, Simon's eyes widened in disbelief, and so did the eyes of the several demons of their tribe.
"Wait? Aren't they from our tribe?"
"Is the chief... selling them to the merchant?"
"Is the chief selling our people to the merchant? That can't be... right?"
Murmurs and whispers flowed across the tribe as they watched members of their tribe being dragged toward the merchant.
Simon had a stunned expression as he watched all of these unfold. A part of him wished to rush out and decapitate the tribal chief and the merchant because of his past experience with slave traders and human traffickers.
But he was too weak to change anything.
He was just too weak.