Across the world, the question of who may be owned, who must be freed, and who is allowed to exist at all is answered not by a single law, but by competing ideologies. Slavery is not merely an institution—it is a reflection of belief, fear, and power. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the lands shaped by faith, survival, and vengeance.
Within territories governed by the Exodia Inquisition, slavery is outlawed with absolute authority. Any slave who crosses into their lands is immediately declared free—no matter their origin, status, or race. To the Inquisition, enslavement is a corruption of the divine order established by the Twelve Saints, a system that places mortal control above sacred hierarchy.
Freed individuals are not abandoned. They are absorbed.
Through structured reeducation, they are taught the doctrine of the Twelve Saints and given a place within Exodian society. Housing is provided, often in districts built around great churches, where community and faith reinforce their new identity. Work, purpose, and belief are offered in place of chains.
To Exodia, this is salvation.
Yet there is a line—one that reveals the harshest truth of their doctrine.
For @Tiefling and @Oni, the law of liberation does not apply.
The Inquisition does not recognize them as people, but as living remnants of demonic corruption, beings too closely tied to the essence of Demon Lords. Their ability to blend among mortals, to pass unnoticed until it is too late, is seen as an existential threat.
They are not enslaved.
They are hunted.
Exodian forces carry out systematic purges, slaughtering tieflings and oni wherever they are found. Their horns are often taken as proof of eradication, sometimes even exchanged for reward—grim tokens of what the Inquisition considers necessary work.
To them, this is not cruelty.
It is protection of the world.
The contradiction is stark: a nation that frees all slaves, yet denies the right of existence to those it deems too dangerous to live.
In the Furban Empire, slavery is not hidden or debated—it is sacred.
Herbivore @Beastfolk are raised and maintained as part of the natural order, each marked with a tag date that determines when they will be consumed. Their lives are structured, controlled, and ultimately ended in ritual, feeding the cycle that defines Furban belief.
There is no concept of freedom within this system.
To Furban, herbivores are not equals—they are necessary.
In Power of Nox Populi are the @Dark Elf, slavery exists as a matter of function.
Those who are enslaved are not chosen randomly. They are selected based on value—captured enemies, indebted individuals, or those deemed useful to the state. Their labor is measured, their existence managed, their roles defined with precision.
Emotion plays no part in it.
To @Dark Elf of Nox Populi, slavery is not moral or immoral.
It is efficient.
The Holy Kingdom of Mejesha was born from chains and has never forgotten what it means to be beneath them.
Their faith, centered on the gun as the great equalizer, rejects the idea that any being should be born into submission. Yet within their growing power lies a rising tension.
Many within Mejesha believe that if they defeat the Furban Empire, justice demands reversal—that carnivore @Beastfolk should be enslaved, forced to endure what they once inflicted.
Others argue that this would betray the very principle of fairness they fought to achieve.
The kingdom stands divided between justice and vengeance.
In the swamps of Amphibia, slavery is not named—it is simply practiced.
@Bugfolk, especially mosquito tribes, are captured, used, and consumed without hesitation. They are not recognized as equals, nor even as a people deserving of rights.
Amphibia’s expansion into bugfolk territory is driven by this belief. The more land they control, the more resources—and food—they secure.
What complicates this further is their relationship with the Exodia Inquisition.
Despite Exodia’s laws against slavery, Amphibia remains under its protection. Officially, this is justified as maintaining order. In reality, it reveals a quiet tolerance for practices that would be condemned elsewhere.
The Red Union — Chains of the Soul
In the Red Union, slavery is not defined by race, birth, or conquest.
It is defined by the contract.
Anyone can fall into it.
Anyone can be bound.
And once bound, freedom is no longer a matter of will—it is a matter of magic.
At the core of the Red Union lies a hidden structure of power: a clandestine network of aspiring Demon Lords, beings who survived the fall of the Demon Age not by ruling openly, but by adapting. They abandoned overt domination and instead turned to something far more insidious—binding pacts.
These entities seek ascension, each striving to rise into full sovereignty once more. But instead of conquering nations directly, they work through mortal systems, embedding themselves into governments, economies, and societies.
Their method is simple:
Offer power.
Take the soul.
Through carefully crafted agreements, they grant individuals strength, protection, status, or survival—whatever is needed in a harsh, unforgiving land. In return, the recipient becomes bound not just by obligation, but by arcane law etched into their very essence.
These are not symbolic contracts.
They are absolute.
In the Red Union, slavery does not always look like chains or cages.
A soldier who signs a pact for strength may find themselves unable to disobey orders.
A worker who accepts aid may discover their labor is no longer their own.
A leader who bargains for power may realize their decisions are no longer entirely theirs to make.
The more power granted, the deeper the binding.
At its highest level, the pact reaches into the soul itself, anchoring the individual to the will of the Demon Lord behind it. Thoughts remain, personality remains—but choice begins to erode.
This is slavery perfected.
Not enforced by guards.
Not resisted by rebellion.
But written into existence.
The people of the Red Union understand this system.
They do not enter pacts blindly.
They enter them because the alternative is worse.
The land is brutal. Resources are scarce. Survival is uncertain. In such a world, a pact can mean the difference between life and death.
And so, many choose it.
Some willingly bind themselves for protection.
Others are pressured into agreements they cannot escape.
Some are born into families already tied to contracts, inheriting obligations they never chose.
In the Union, freedom is not guaranteed.
It is negotiated—and often lost.
These pacts do not remain contained within the Red Union.
The aspiring Demon Lords operate across borders, subtly influencing other nations through agents, corrupted officials, and hidden contracts. Their goal is not immediate domination, but gradual expansion—a web of bound souls stretching across the world.
Each pact strengthens them.
Each bound individual becomes a node in their growing influence.
Over time, institutions themselves begin to shift, shaped by unseen forces that guide decisions from within.
Unlike the chaos of the old Demon Age, this system is controlled, measured, and deliberate.
The Red Union does not collapse under its reliance on demonic power because it has structured it. The state monitors, manages, and balances these contracts, ensuring that no single Demon Lord gains too much unchecked control.
For now.
Because beneath the surface, each of these entities is still pursuing the same ultimate goal:
Ascension.
And when one rises high enough, control may no longer matter.
In the Red Union, slavery is universal not because everyone is bound—
But because anyone can be.
A contract offered in desperation.
A deal made for power.
A promise accepted without fully understanding the cost.
These are the moments where freedom ends.
Not with chains.
But with a signature.