One by one, the bodies in the queue fell. The medical team walked back and forth to help. Hysterical screams made the hearts of those who heard them feel sliced. The situation has gotten out of hand.
The artists as well as public figures who paid for this event held their fans' hands tightly, closed their eyes, and started to absorb their energies like sipping tea in the afternoon. Their hands seemed to tremble as the energy shifted. They continued to suck as if they wanted to dry them.
For a brief moment, the fans would be unaware of what had happened. After a few minutes, they would feel exhausted to the point of hallucinating if their energy was drained out. They could even die. That was exactly what happened in front of Zeryon.
Luckily, Zeryon had come downstairs to see if Gina was not in line. Maybe he appeared rude when he didn't wave back the shiny blonde haired young woman. But he really wanted her to get out of this art building quickly. And he was relieved to see her turn around.
"Medic team! Over here!" Zeryon screamed as a middle-aged woman nearly passed out, and his hands immediately grabbed her.
Men in white coats rushed over with stretchers to help the victims.
"It's so awful. Things are going crazy. You have to do something, sir," Vargas Nart stated.
"I've been opposed to this for a long time, but the head of the arts association still wants to organize this art festival. What else can I say in this situation?" As his jaw seemed to harden, Zeryon clenched his fists.
"You will be affected later, if the government provides sanctions."
"It could be. But—"
"We have nothing to be afraid of. It is obvious that we are superior." Madrox Boaz overheard their conversation.
"You're so arrogant. Be careful, there's always room for you to fall if you get yourself too high." Vargas mockingly smiled.
"What's wrong with your servants, Zeryon? They're against me. It looks like you hired the wrong person." Madrox crossed his arms and shook his head in surprise.
"Now is not the time to be fussy over trivial matters. Vargas is simply stating his opinion. And he is entitled to it," Zeryon said.
"You're defending your maids instead, huh?"
"I'm not defending anyone," Zeryon said, turning to Madrox. "Are you on the side of the global elite's leaders? "Are you in agreement with what they have done?" he added.
"If I agree, I will take a seat on the stage. But I'm right here with you. I can't do anything. Their power is greater. I can only obey orders." Madrox defended himself.
Zeryon didn't respond to Madrox. He stepped into arts association's headmaster's office right away. Meanwhile Vargas, Heva and Madrox followed him from behind. The room was located at the far end of the art building.
Zeryon opened the door without saying anything, despite the fact that two guards stood outside, warning him not to enter. He found big men in expensive suits sitting on sofas with drinking glasses.
"Cheers!" they said in unison as they banged the drinking glasses.
Zeryon couldn't keep the rage that burned in his chest. "The atmosphere was chaotic on the stage, and you all have time to celebrate here?"
The men both turned to face Zeryon, their eyes fixed on him.
"Of course. Life is to be enjoyed, and those demons need human energy, don't they?"
One of the white men rose from the sofa, still holding his drinks, spun his glass around, and took a sip. He was Declan Whitelock, a forty-year-old man who served himself to demon.
"Why can't they do it in moderation? Should they suck human energy to their crowns and kill them?" Zeryon asked in cynicly.
"Since when did demons become moderate? After all, they gave up their energy voluntarily. Demons never force them."
"At least let them alive. Don't you think the mass media will cover today's event?"
"You don't have to be concerned about that. You think we don't have much power and authority? Look at here, the leader of the Elite; Duca Alastair is also present."
Declan pointed at the figure of the middle-aged man beside him. The man shot Zeryon a razor-sharp look. He knew that the classy man had a high position. But that didn't stop him from opposing their policies, which were already out of limits. It was as if they wanted to create a new hell on the earth's surface and he was fed up with it.
"Zeryon, never mind. Leave it alone. Let's just get out of here." Madrox tried to help his friend escape. "Please forgive us, Mr. Whitelock." He turned his gaze to the headmaster.
"I can't let this happen!" Zeryon yelled.
"Guards, take him out!" Madrox ordered.
The two big, bald-headed men standing at the door immediately dragged him out.
"You can't do this!" Zeryon even cursed them for dismissing him.
Zeryon was surprised to see the woman in front of him as he approached the door. He thought Gina had left the art building. He wouldn't let her be there or else she could get into trouble if she met those elite people.
"What are you doing here?" Zeryon yelled at Gina, until her shoulders jumped in shock. Nobody realised that a young woman was standing in front of the door.
"Sorry, I thought this was the toilet," Gina said.
"Let me go!" Zeryon lashed out at the two guards.
"Let him go," Duca Alastair ordered in a slow but emphatic intonation. In a second those two big gurard gaze a nod.
Zeryon straightened his shirt as the two guards released their grips. Then, he grabbed Gina's hand and immediately dragged her out.
"Go away from here!" Zeryon was still screaming.
"Why are you yelling at me?" Gina's mouth was open and she looked at him as if she couldn't believe what she heard.
"Now!"
Her eyes widened, and her hands raised to close his lips. She looked at him as if he had stabbed her heart with a sharp knice. Zeryon couldn't help but just saw her quickly turned around and walked away.