The Blood Bath Begins

The underground auditorium hummed with a different kind of energy now. The main auction was done, the tension of the bidding wars replaced by a loose, rowdy buzz. Tables were scattered across the hall, covered with half-eaten plates of food—greasy chicken wings, spilled sauces, and crumpled napkins. 

People leaned back in their chairs, laughing too loud, their faces flushed from booze and victory. Glasses clinked, voices overlapped, and the air smelled like a mix of sweat, perfume, and roasted meat. 

The slaves stayed close to their new owners, some standing stiffly with blank stares, others forced to pour drinks or fetch more food, their movements quiet and mechanical under the flickering neon lights.