WorldCrafter - Building My Underground Kingdom-Chapter 181 - The Velmora

181: The Velmora

181: The Velmora

Ben spent the next hour moving through the city lord mansion.

Looking around, he quickly realized the huge difference compared to the buildings in town.

The walls were made from some marble like material, polished so finely they gave off a mirror like reflection.

He stopped near the main hallway, where a few servants were hurriedly cleaning up the shattered remains of a vase.

Their movements were quick, almost frantic, but when they noticed him, they froze.

One girl dropped her cloth in panic, bowing so low her forehead touched the floor.

Ben crouched down slightly, his voice low and even.

“Name?”

The girl trembled.

“S Serin, my lord…”

Her silver hair spilled down her shoulders like flowing silk.

Her skin shimmered faintly, almost translucent like pearlstone under soft light.

Her wide, fearful eyes gleamed with a pale violet hue.

Ben’s gaze dropped to the golden necklace around her neck.

The runic symbol carved into it made his eyes narrow.

‘A slave spell.’

He straightened, his eyes sweeping the hall.

Every servant he could see wore something similar, a necklace, a bracelet, an anklet, each carved with the same binding spell.

And every single one of them was a Velmora.

A subterranean race, once healers and scholars, now reduced to property.

The Velmora were peaceful by nature, gentle beings with minor magic talents.

But over the centuries, they had been conquered, their beauty turning them into high-quality slaves, eagerly sought after by the elite.

Ben’s eyes caught faint scars on their skin, hastily hidden with magic, but not well enough to escape his senses.

He turned his head slightly, raising his voice.

“How many Velmora are left in the mansion?”

An older servant hesitated before stepping forward.

His hands trembled as he bowed deeply.

“A-Approximately ninety-seven, my lord.

W-we were kept here…

after the nobles fled.”

Ben’s lips thinned.

“Are there any staff besides Velmora?”

The elder’s gaze dropped even lower.

“A few, my lord…

but the Reagent took them.”

Ben’s tone cooled.

“Who gave the order to leave you all behind?”

The man swallowed hard.

“The Reagent, my lord.

Said we were…

lower quality.”

Ben let the silence stretch, letting the words hang in the air.

Then he waved a hand.

“Enough.

Return to your duties.”

Relief washed over their faces like a sudden flood, though none dared weep or cheer.

They only bowed deeper and quickly scattered back to their work.

Ben watched them go, his jaw tightening.

‘Kharvek…

the Reagent…

greedy, and a damn pervert too.’

He swept his gaze over the grand hall.

The number of Velmora left behind made it obvious.

Based on the reports he had read before, he could guess nearly ninety percent of the mansion’s staff had always been Velmora.

It only made sense if the owner had a particular taste.

There were far more efficient species better suited for housekeeping and maintenance.

In fact, the mansion didn’t even need this many servants at all.

The whole place was layered with magic circles, built to practically maintain itself.

He turned sharply, heading deeper into the mansion.

If they thought they could take everything and leave him scraps, they were about to learn how wrong they were.

He could already guess what kind of “hobby” the previous rulers enjoyed.

‘Kharvek, you bastard.

No wonder this place feels rotten.’

Suppressing his disgust, Ben pushed on, eventually finding his way to a heavy double door tucked at the far end of a hall.

A faded plaque above it read Archive.

“Since I’m here…” he muttered.

He pushed open the door.

Inside was a vast room lined with shelves stacked high with documents, stone tablets, and data crystals.

Dust hung thick in the air.

Ben stepped in, letting several arm like limbs emerge from his back, each one tipped with an eye.

They began to reach for the shelves, ready to start the usual reading method Ben had perfected.

But he paused, frowning.

[Your Krell Supervisor has perished!]

[Your Krell Supervisor has perished!]

‘Eight and Nine… dead?’

The news made Ben’s brow furrow deeper.

The Krell Supervisors had already been upgraded, they weren’t the strongest units purely in raw strength, but their intelligence allowed them to master complicated techniques, turning them into formidable fighters.

Physically, their bodies were at least as strong as the old Krell Scouts.

For both of them to fall so quickly… it meant the opponent was anything but ordinary.

Ben closed his eyes, sifting through their last moments.

His lips twitched upward into a thin, cold line.

‘So that confirms it.

Kharvek got his relic from Malvek.’

Through the dying memories of Eight and Nine, Ben clearly saw it , the enemy wielded a relic as their weapon, defeating the Krell with ease.

For a moment, Ben considered ordering Zarnak to capture them.

But he quickly shook his head.

‘No… Zarnak’s the only capable one managing the city right now. freeweɓnøvel.com

I’ll handle this myself.’

Quietly, he left the city lord’s mansion.

On the way out, he stopped by to inform Elvira.

“I see.

Good luck, then,” she said casually, barely looking up from the blueprint she was sketching.

Ben chuckled inwardly.

‘Typical Elvira,’ she had no doubts he could handle it.

And honestly, he preferred it that way.

They were outside the capital’s territory now.

He could fight without holding back.

Besides, Elvira was more interested in turning her private mansion into a alchemy lab than getting dragged into another fight.

It didn’t take long for Ben to reach his target.

Along one of the lava channels leading toward Krahal-Zir, a squad of Nephirid soldiers stood guard, the sigil of Gravenhold emblazoned clearly on their armor.

They had stopped a merchant ship and were surrounding it now, weapons drawn.

The merchants aboard shifted uneasily, their hands hovering over crates and barrels, clearly too afraid to make any sudden moves.

One of the Nephirid soldiers stepped forward, chest puffed out, his voice dripping with arrogance.

“You lowborn filth still don’t get it, huh?

Didn’t we make it clear?

No more trading with Krahal-Zir.”

He jabbed the tip of his spear toward the cargo.

“Put down your merchandise and sail back where you came from.

That’s your only warning.”