Chapter 3: The Slave Market

Field was tormented by the stench of the slave market, his nose wrinkling from the overwhelming odor. Those stingy merchants were nothing short of vampires, unwilling to spend even a copper coin to bathe their slaves. Five or six slaves were crammed into a tiny cage, forced to eat, drink, sleep, and relieve themselves all in the same space.

No privacy, no dignity, and—thanks to their lifelong indoctrination—not even the right to take their own lives.

In the outdoor cages, many female slaves wore not even a shred of cloth, their exposed bodies serving as a marketing strategy. It was disturbingly effective—every day, toothless old bachelors would come to gawk.

"Sir, are you looking to buy a slave? A must-have for any estate—hardworking and diligent!"

"Rare elf slave—only 1,000 gold coins!"

"Grand opening! Come take a look, my lord!"

Dressed in an elegant black robe with a finely crafted steel sword at his waist, Field's refined appearance instantly marked him as a man of wealth. The slave traders' eyes gleamed with excitement. Nobles were their favorite customers—unlike the common riffraff who came just to stare, nobles actually had the means to buy. Even better, nobles consumed slaves at an astonishing rate, often returning in just a few days for more.

To the aristocracy, slaves were worth even less than their hunting hounds—disposing of them was as casual as breaking a twig.

Field swept his gaze over the cages. The slaves inside had vacant, lifeless eyes. Their hair was a tangled mess, their genders barely discernible beneath the filth and scars. Occasionally, a slave dared to meet his gaze but quickly looked away, trembling in fear.

"How much?" Field asked as he searched for the green marker on his map.

"My lord, the price varies greatly by race."

A merchant with a rat-like face, reminiscent of Suneo from Doraemon, rubbed his hands greedily. "Goblins, halflings, and pigmen—10 silver coins each. Beastfolk, 20 silver. Orcs, 60 silver. If you're looking for entertainment, well… there's no upper limit."

With a sly grin, the merchant gestured toward a large cage inside. The most eye-catching slave was, without a doubt, the elf priced at 1,000 gold coins.

She was stunningly beautiful, barely covered in sheer fabric that did little to conceal her pale skin. Yet her eyes were vacant, like those of a broken doll.

"This elf was ruined by goblins—gave birth to at least 26 times! Haha! But she's still a hot commodity. I plan to send her to the auction house. By then, she'll go for far more than 1,000 gold coins. Interested?"

"I'm not." The green marker wasn't on her, and Field certainly didn't have the money to waste on a mere plaything. He shook his head. "How much for human slaves?"

"Humans are intelligent and obedient. Male slaves go for 40 silver coins, females for 25. They're mainly for labor. But if you're looking for fun, I still recommend elves. Even if you don't use them for pleasure, you can always slaughter them for meat or use their bodies for magical components."

Field shuddered. In this world, nobles weren't the refined figures from historical dramas—they were brutal feudal tyrants.

Elven flesh was rumored to enhance vitality. Proud as they were, elves still ended up on dinner plates—despite their resemblance to humans.

As they chatted, Field found the green marker. His gaze shifted to a cage in the corner, where a small glowing dot hovered above.

It was a demi-human—a white wolf demi-human with red eyes, wolf-like ears, and a tail.

She lay motionless in the damp, cold cage, dressed in rough linen. Her eyes occasionally flicked toward the merchant's keyring.

"A rare plains species. Our slaver team put in quite the effort to capture her," the merchant boasted. "Those damn savages fought to the last man." His smug expression did little to hide the cruelty of his words. "If you want to enjoy a wolf-girl, you'd best have some servants assist you. Otherwise, she might just bite off… well, you know."

"Beast-ear girl?"

Field's heart pounded with excitement. As a seasoned otaku from Earth, he had zero resistance to red-eyed beast-girls.

Like a child reaching out to pet a puppy, Field carefully extended his hand toward her head.

"Grooowl…"

"You should be careful," Butler Kao warned, frowning.

The beast-girl growled low in her throat, her crimson eyes gleaming with hostility.

Knight Commander Connor had already placed a hand on his sword. "Lord Field, I advise against touching her. The last thing we need before reaching Nightfall Territory is an accident."

"No need to be so tense. She's kind of cute." Though he spoke casually, Field was a pragmatic man. He withdrew his hand, noting the mixture of defiance and frustration in her eyes. Cute, yet pitiful. He straightened his robe. "How much?"

"Only three gold coins!" The merchant saw the desire in Field's eyes and immediately hiked up the price.

One gold coin equaled 100 silver coins, and one silver coin equaled 100 copper coins.

Field narrowed his eyes. "You just said demi-humans were 20 silver each. Are you trying to make a fool of a noble?"

"Ah, but she's special, isn't she? Stunningly beautiful! And recently captured—still a virgin! She hasn't even been sullied by the filthy eyes of commoners. She's meant for the auction house. If she were human, she'd fetch 300 gold easily. But alas, she's a demi-human—an impure creature."

"Fifty silver. Don't test my patience." Field folded his arms, adopting a persuasive tone. "I'm about to take over my own territory. This won't be the last time I buy slaves. Would you rather do business once—or countless times? I think you know the answer."

The merchant hesitated, temptation flickering in his eyes. After a moment of internal struggle, he relented. "Depends on how many you buy."

Butler Kao cast Field a curious glance. In the past, Field would never have haggled—he would've sympathized with the merchant instead.

In the end, Field carefully selected and purchased 100 human slaves and 100 demi-human slaves, 120 of whom were men.

Including the beast-girl he had his eye on, he spent 53 gold coins.

"My lord, here are the soul contracts for your slaves—verified by a Divine Chosen."

"Contracts?" Field took the parchment, densely packed with names.

"Yes, signed in their own blood. Any who defy your will shall be reduced to ashes by divine fire," the merchant said with a wicked grin, handing over the chains. "So do as you please, dear customer. Enjoy yourself."

"I will," Field said dismissively. He had no illusions about the horrors awaiting him in the Cursed Lands—if he didn't enjoy himself, he'd likely die a gruesome death.

Despite considering buying more slaves, his funds were running low.

Survival in the Deathly Mists wasn't just about fighting monsters—merely breathing required special fog-dispersing lanterns, an expensive magical tool sold exclusively by the Church.

Not to mention feeding over two hundred people was no small feat.

That night, as Field rested in an inn, he took another look at the beast-girl curled up in the straw inside the cart.

There was something different about her.

The next morning, he called her over.

"What's your name? Did you sleep well?" Field studied his 50-silver slave, amused by her bewildered expression.

"A… Ashina," she finally whispered, struggling to remember how to speak.

After a month of silent captivity, she had thought she'd never speak again.

She had been living in constant fear, waiting for fate to take its course, never expecting that she would have a day where she could speak normally again.

After being thoroughly cleaned by the maids, the beast-eared girl was unrecognizable from before. Her once matted and dried fur was now smooth and lustrous, and her long, pure white hair cascaded down like freshly fallen snow, complementing her delicate features with an air of quiet elegance. She was exactly the kind of mature beauty Field liked. However, her constantly twitching wolf ears and tail made her anxiety obvious.

The moment she reported her name, the green marker above Ashina's head disappeared, replaced by a simple status panel:

Name: Ashina

Level: Unawakened

Advancement Path: Wolf Rider Chosen One

Status: Malnourished, Near Collapse

(Please provide adequate nutrition!)

"Holy shit!" Field couldn't hold back his exclamation.

The green marker had actually been an unawakened Chosen One!

Field was stunned, momentarily speechless.

Since the map could mark her as a green dot, it was unlikely to be a one-time occurrence!

Every year on September 1st, the kingdom held its Awakening Day. All eligible females had to undergo a mandatory examination. Although the chances of awakening as a Chosen One were minuscule, their value was so immense that even an enormous expenditure of resources was considered worthwhile.

Field paced back and forth in excitement before punching the air twice. His ability had immense potential.

Perhaps, this trip to the Nightfall Territory would truly allow him to establish a foothold.

Ashina, seeing Field's strange behavior, mistakenly assumed he had come up with a new way to torment her. Her legs trembled with fear as she clenched and unclenched the hem of her skirt, not knowing what awaited her.

In truth, after being purchased by Field, she had considered launching a desperate attack. Even if she was devoured by the slave contract's backlash, she refused to die in disgrace—she would sink her fangs into her enemy's throat before perishing.

But then, the maids had taken her by the hand, stripped her clothes, bathed her, and scrubbed every inch of her body until she was spotless.

Never in her life had she imagined that someone would help her bathe. Even more bizarre was that they also dressed her in fresh clothes—soft, comfortable fabric that felt as light as air against her skin. There were no biting fleas, no rough fibers to scratch and wound her body.

"Maybe... I'm being prepared as a sacrifice to a demon." Ashina's thoughts ran wild. "When the time comes, I'll fight back! These wicked humans will pay!"

"You don't have to be afraid. I'm not some maniac who kills for fun," Field lowered his voice, trying to sound as gentle as possible. Leaning casually against his chair in a relaxed posture, he exuded no hostility. "By the way, does the outfit fit you well?"

It was a modified maid uniform based on common servant attire. The clothing in this world was quite conservative, covering all but the lower calves and hands—almost like a nun's habit. Of course, not the kind of revealing, high-slit nun outfit meant for entertainment.