CHAPTER 52

The King of Death, having trampled over an army of two hundred thousand from the faction of darkness, cast aside his colossal, cracked sword and turned his gaze toward his own three-million-strong army."Two million more, and that will be the moment when the Hound of Destruction will bark relentlessly."

Of course, none of his enemies had survived to inform him of the latest news regarding the Hazard forces—if someone had, his plans would have certainly changed."A world without injustice and war cannot be achieved easily… I hope to eradicate the dark beings and demons so that I can witness an eternal smile on every human child's face..."

Meanwhile, in the south, within two different yet grand castles, each towering two thousand meters high, standing in two capitals at the peak of two legendary sagas—one amidst a bloodbath, the other training his newlywed wife in swordsmanship—both saw the bats carrying letters flying near them. Recognizing the familiar scent of blood, they took the letters and, upon reading them, their eyes emitted a furious glow of wrath and intent to kill.

The City of Golden Towers within the empire was in chaos. Rumors of two legendary demons being discovered in a neighboring duchy had driven most of the populace to sell their homes for a fraction of their value and flee. Meanwhile, the remaining citizens faced a food crisis, with merchants and farmers having abandoned the city. Only greedy opportunists remained, selling resources at exorbitant prices.

Inside a tavern—perhaps the only place where the crowd had not dwindled—the city's heroes had gathered. At one table sat the five-member group of Level 4 heroes: Elric the swordsman, Hamon the spearman, Jacob the shield-bearer, Asra the mage, and Freya the healer. They had defeated many Level 3 and 4 kings, rising from nothing through sheer strength to their current status.

Unlike most groups in the tavern, which contained at least one non-human member, this fully human party was rare. At an average age of twenty-two, they were ready to use their accumulated wealth to hire an archer. However, archers and hunters were not easy to find among heroes—high-ranking locals were either in the military or charged steep wages.

Thus, their only long-term option was to buy a slave with exceptional archery and tracking skills. As in any magical world, elves were the best candidates for this. However, elves came from another continent, making their procurement difficult for traders, and their price was notoriously high.

After two hours of internal debate, the group finally agreed to visit the slave market outside the city, where greedy traders still thrived—having resumed operations after decades of illegal arms and drug trafficking, thanks to King Arthur's changed stance on slavery.

Upon arriving at the slave market—resembling an aviary but with cages containing humans, demi-humans, and other humanoid races—they searched in vain for an elf. As night approached, they decided to return the next day, hoping traders might have new stock.

But perhaps it was luck—or misfortune—that a hand landed on Elric's shoulder.

"You looking for an elven slave, kid?"

An old man with rotting teeth—evidence of poor hygiene—approached. However, his clean and elegant clothing told a different story.

Elric paid little attention; their mission required a professional archer and tracker near the Cursed King of the Dark Mountain. If they could find an elf with such skills, nothing would please them more.

"Lead the way."

The merchant grinned at the 25-year-old and led the group behind the main market street, where sick and injured slaves—unfit for sale in the main market—were kept. He pulled aside a heavy blanket covering a small cage, revealing a frail, wounded girl with severed ears.

"A common forest spirit with a lifespan of five hundred years. Her size may fool you, but she's nearly thirty—older than all of you. Her previous master was a pervert, which left her in this state. When he tired of her, he sold her off. Before being captured, she was supposedly a rural hunter who even managed to kill a professional mercenary while escaping. Given what you're looking for, this one's a perfect match. But she needs healing, though with a high-level healer in your group, that shouldn't be a problem."

Hearing her story and seeing her condition, the group felt pity for her. Having spent only a year in this world, their faces openly displayed their emotions—even before a man who licked his lips upon seeing their expressions.

"Elven slaves are incredibly rare these days, and smuggling them past the stormy ocean is a nightmare. The costs have skyrocketed!"

He eyed the pouches hanging from their belts.

"The price for this slave is five thousand gold coins."

Hearing this, the group's eyes widened—one gold coin could feed a family of four for three months.

"Oh, bad luck..."

Seeing their dismay, the merchant grew confused. Their gear indicated that such a price wouldn't even dent their pockets.

"I can give you a fifty-coin discount since you secure the roads, but no more."

Still, they showed no interest and began leaving.

"Fine! How much do you have?"

Elric stopped and held up two fingers.

"We just bought new gear and can only spare two thousand."

The merchant nearly wept blood. Holding back his anger, he watched as they walked away. He still had plenty of unsold stock, his guards had been bought off by wealthier traders, and he suddenly recalled the dark rumors surrounding some heroes. Swallowing hard, he shouted:

"2500! Final offer!"

Still, they did not turn back.

Desperate, he was forced into a tactic he had never faced before—one common in the heroes' previous world: high-discount bargaining.

Of course, had he known that the very same money would disappear that night—along with his savings chest—due to a tracking spell, he would have fled the city long ago.