Slave Market

One of 7 Great Heroines was there.

With resolve hardening within me, I made a beeline for the receptionist desk, where a corpulent man with a pronounced triple chin regarded me with a predatory gleam in his eye. His lascivious demeanor sent a shiver down my spine, but I refused to falter in the face of his vulgarity.

"What do you want, girl? If you're willing, I can offer you riches beyond your wildest dreams in exchange for a night with me—" he began, his words dripping with sleaze.

"I'm here to purchase," I interjected sharply, cutting off his repugnant proposition with a cold stare.

His gaze lingered on me, an appraising gleam in his eye. "You may be young, but you possess the beauty of a princess," he remarked, signaling to his brutish cohorts who stood poised at his side.

Their muscular frames and menacing expressions betrayed their intent—they sought to subdue me and bend me to their will.

"Take another step, and you'll regret it," I warned, my voice devoid of mercy as I met their advances.

"Ahaha!"

"We won't show you any mercy on the bed either!"

"If you come on your own we will be a little more kind!"

Their derisive laughter echoed through the hall, their crude remarks only serving to stoke the flames of my determination. With a swift motion, I withdrew a dagger, its glinting blade catching the dim light of the room.

"Tier 2 Spell: Wind Reinforcement," I muttered under my breath, channeling magic through my veins as I surged forward with unparalleled speed.

In the blink of an eye, I stood beside the strongest among them, my dagger slicing through the air with deadly precision. The room erupted into chaos as the head of my assailant soared through the air, landing with a sickening thud upon the receptionist's desk.

A geyser of blood erupted from the headless corpse, painting the floor crimson as the onlookers recoiled in horror.

"I won't repeat myself. I'm here to purchase, and I have ample funds to do so," I declared icily, my expression a mask of unyielding determination as I produced a pouch brimming with gold coins.

They all gulped down seeing it.

As the chaos of the altercation subsided, a figure emerged from one of the side doors, commanding attention with his imposing presence. Bald and adorned with scars that crisscrossed his face and neck, he exuded an aura of power that left no doubt as to his status as the strongest individual in the room, surpassing even my own capabilities. His gaze, initially predatory upon sighting me, softened upon noticing the glint of wealth within my pouch.

"What's this commotion?" he asked, his voice laced with a cold edge as he surveyed the scene before him, the headless corpse of his subordinate seemingly of little consequence.

Ignoring the grisly spectacle, he turned his attention to me, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger that sent a shiver down my spine. "Are you here to purchase, boy?"

"Yes," I confirmed, meeting his gaze, refusing to cower beneath his scrutiny. I understood the risks inherent in my presence here, yet the prospect of acquiring the girl compelled me to press forward, despite the dangerous circumstances.

"Get rid of the body and the blood cleaned," he ordered his goons with a glare.

Then without further ado, Rogal motioned for me to follow him, his demeanor shifting from hostility to businesslike efficiency. As we traversed the narrow corridor, I maintained a firm grip on my dagger, poised to defend myself if necessary.

"Are you of noble birth, boy?" Rogal asked, his tone probing.

"No," I responded bluntly, unwilling to entertain further inquiry into my background. In this den of vice and exploitation, titles held little sway—only wealth and influence mattered.

"Do you expect me to believe that?" he retorted, his gaze piercing.

"I care not for your belief. Show me what I seek. If I'm satisfied I will give you gold you won't have obtained even with hundreds of clients " I countered, my tone cold.

"You are quite gutsy!" His laughter rang out, filled with amusement at my curt retort. The sound grated on my nerves, a reminder of the danger that lurked beneath his jovial façade.

This man was a threat unlike any other I had encountered—a true antagonist whose actions inflicted untold suffering upon the innocent. The Heroine I sought had undoubtedly endured her share of torment at his hands. Even though I wanted to kill and he needed to die because of how dangerous he was, I didn't have the strength nor the influence to do it yet.

"What is it you desire? We boast a selection of werewolves, elves, and other captivating women and girls of your age," Rogal remarked, his voice dripping with lewd insinuation. "Some have been... used, while others remain untouched—virgins ripe for the taking," he added with a smirk, his words a vile testament to the depravity of his trade.

Refusing to dignify his repulsive offer with a response, I followed him through a larger door, guarded by two tall figures who yielded to Rogal's authority with a deferential nod.

With a flourish, Rogal swung the door open, revealing a grim tableau beyond its threshold. "Welcome to my slave factory," he declared with a twisted smile.

Before me lay a scene that epitomized the grotesque reality of slavery.

Cages lined the expansive hall, each one housing a multitude of girls spanning a spectrum of ages, their scant attire serving as a cruel mockery of their stolen freedom. Some wept openly, their tears a silent testament to their anguish, while others bore faces devoid of emotion, their spirits broken by the relentless cruelty of their captors. A few cast desperate glances in my direction, their eyes pleading for salvation, yet most had resigned themselves to a fate devoid of hope or redemption.

The buyers, their intentions veiled behind false smiles and feigned indifference, perused the merchandise with avaricious eyes, their desires driven by base motives and moral bankruptcy.

"Choose whichever catches your fancy, provided you have the coin to back it up, of course," Rogal remarked with a sinister grin, his presence casting a pall of fear over the imprisoned souls who cowered in his shadow.

I scanned the rows of cages meticulously, searching for the one I sought, but to no avail. She was nowhere to be found.

Strange. She should be here...

Suppressing my rising unease, I opted for a different approach, feigning disinterest to avoid arousing suspicion. "Is this the extent of your inventory? I find none of them particularly captivating," I remarked dismissively, my tone dripping with scorn.

Rogal's twisted grin widened at my words, a perverse amusement gleaming in his eyes. "We possess others, but they are either 'broken' or already spoken for," he explained, oblivious to the true nature of my inquiry.

"Show them to me as well," I said.

"A twisted preference for one so young," Rogal chuckled, misunderstanding the true intent behind my request.

As Rogal led me through a concealed door concealed behind a nondescript shelf, we entered a smaller chamber adorned with cages, each one holding a handful of slaves.

The occupants of this room numbered no more than twenty, yet the atmosphere was suffused with an aura of despair and suffering that hung heavy in the air.

Girls and boys of my own age, younger or older—slumped within their confines, their bodies bearing the cruel marks of abuse and neglect. Bruises marred their skin, their faces swollen and their eyes devoid of any spark of life. These were the broken ones, their spirits crushed by the relentless brutality inflicted upon them.

"These individuals have served their purpose multiple times and now provide entertainment for my men," Rogal remarked callously, his laughter echoing through the chamber like a cruel mockery of their suffering.

Turning my gaze away from the pitiful sight, I focused instead on the other occupants of the room—slaves adorned in pristine robes, their hands and necks bound by gleaming golden cuffs. Despite their outward appearance of health and vitality, their expressions betrayed a profound sense of resignation, their spirits broken despite their physical well-being.

"These slaves are reserved for nobles who have commissioned them," Rogal explained, his voice tinged with a sickening pride. "They are virgins, beautiful specimens, as you can see."

I paid him no heed, my attention drawn instead to a figure huddled in the farthest corner of the room—a girl whose presence stirred something deep within me.

It was her.