Weapon seller in the world of magic

Forever Prisoner: The prisoners who serve a sentence in the Eternal Pagoda for more than 1 heavenly year will forever be bound to the Pagoda.

Forced Mortality: The Prisoners below 11-circle will have cultivation deteriorate over time and lose their Qi/Ether permanently after 1 heavenly 1-year sentence.

”Damn these two skills... just who made this prison...” Mark’s eyes widened at its abilities. ”Forever... that’s too much harsh but at the very least, that divine slavery has a toggle on/off switch, unlike the other two.”

He went ahead with the toggle off.

And in that moment...

The entire prison floor rippled.

The brand shattered like broken glass on one of them. A soft hum rang out from the pagoda.

Then another mark was shattered.

Like a chain of dominoes, all of those marks were shattered one after another.

In no time, all 45,662 women were temporarily freed from the slavery.

Mark wanted to let out a smile and tell them that they are safe, but before he got to do that, the silence was shattered.

It started with a whisper.

Then a moan.

Then a choked sob.

Then—chaos.

The air twisted as the broken husks of women awoke. Not as victims. Not as survivors.

They resembled beasts as their eyes snapped toward him.

”There’s a male!”

”A male!!”

”A male! A real one!”

”Alive!”

Mark’s pupils contracted as they lunged with a wave of desperation, madness, Hunger, but not for food or affection.

He didn’t wait for them to touch him though.

The moment the first of them just neared a 3-foot radius nearby, he unleashed the skill.

”Gravity Dome. 100x, 1 km radius.”

Boom.

An invisible pressure slammed down on the entire floor. Screams rang out as thousands of bodies were crushed to the floor, not lethally, but enough to paralyze them in place.

But they still stared at him. Some were salivating. Others laughed. Some just wept, their hands clawing the floor in desperation.

One girl, her ears pointed like a fox spirit, whispered through cracked lips, ”Is it real...? Is he real...? Or is it another illusion again...?”

Mark didn’t speak.

He just looked at them, at what they had been reduced to. At what the White Lion King had turned them into.

He exhaled slowly and muttered under his breath: ”I’m really regretting killing you so quickly without any pain, bastard.”

Mark stood at the center, unmoving, watching thousands of broken women pinned to the ground like dolls without strings.

He let out a long, weary sigh. ”Ark, scan their status.”

«Scanning now...»

A faint hum spread outward from Mark’s chest, rippling across the hall in invisible pulses. One by one, tiny sparks danced above the girls’ foreheads— flickering to life under Ark’s analysis.

*Ding! Mental integrity status: severely compromised. Extensive psychological collapse due to prolonged spiritual and physical abuse. Primary trigger: forced mating rituals... frequency and intensity exceed sustainable limits.

Mark closed his eyes. ”So, they’ve been...”

*Ding! Their cognitive functions are fractured, Master. Emotional centers are desensitized. Speech ability is disrupted. In most cases, the trauma is locked beneath instinctual responses: fight, flee, or submit. What you witnessed was the final phase of psychological degeneration.

Mark’s jaw tightened. ”Can they be saved?”

*Ding! Affirmative. The simplest solution is to re-enable the slave seal and use it as a bridge to overwrite specific memory clusters. The moment the rewritten narrative stabilizes, normal cognition will resume. Emotional balance will follow. But...

”But they’ll be enslaved.” Mark’s voice was cold. ”Even if I’m rewriting the memories to protect them, I’d be rebranding them as mine.”

*Ding! Correct. That is the fastest and least destructive solution. Alternatively, I can install individual AI Cores into their minds to stabilize personality fractures...

”No.” Mark snapped. He paused. Then added, quieter, ”To make one AI Core, through just my sheer will and creation ability, I would need my entire reserves. That means I can only create one per every 70. And there are 45000 of these here. Not to mention, they are forever bound to this pagoda.”

”Killing them might be kinder,” he muttered bitterly. ”At least they’d be free.”

But he didn’t move.

He stared out across the broken sea of people, all collapsed, motionless, silent. ”Still... I don’t want to do that either.”

He took a breath, deep and resigned. ”If we’re going to override their minds, then let’s do it the right way.”

Ark’s system clicked faintly, awaiting instruction.

”Keep their core memories. Don’t touch who they are... their earlier memories from their birth to their capture must be retained as it is. Just wipe away the atrocities done to them after being imprisoned here. Replace the void with this: they were prisoners of the White Lion King. I appeared, killed him in front of them, and offered them a choice. They swore loyalty to me voluntarily and accepted the slave seal to protect their new identities. That’s all.”

*Ding! Affirmed. Executing Layered Memory Integration Protocol.

”All emotional states should reflect peace, safety, and personal choice. No romantic connections. No loyalty through affection. I don’t want that kind of mess.”

*Ding! Noted. Adjusting emotional associations accordingly. Beginning assimilation.

He raised his hand, invoking his Creation Ability again. Robe after robe formed in the air and fell gently onto the silent forms around him. The process was mechanical, steady, and endless.

A glimmer of light shimmered over each girl’s forehead as the slave seal reactivated—but not like before. This time, the brand was subdued, non-dominant. A soft silver lotus, its energy humming in sync with Mark’s ether signature.

The slave mark, now a tool for stabilization, pulsed faintly.

Then—

One by one, the women began to lose consciousness. Not in fear or panic.

But in stillness.

They collapsed gently to the floor—eyes closing as if slipping into a deep, dreamless sleep.

[Estimated Completion Time: 48 Hours]

[Memory Integration in Progress... 1%]

Mark stood alone again.

Watching forty-five thousand women sleep beneath dim starlight pouring in from the dome’s ceiling.

He exhaled. ”I don’t know what kind of lives you’ll rebuild after this... but I’ll at least make sure you get to choose them.”