The group stood in the dimly lit reception hall of the slave trader’s shop. Everyone was tense. Selvara, Venya, Nivara, Luna, Leona, Ivy, Lysandra, Arisha, Thristle, Nyxion, Vegia — all in their human disguises, all quiet. Fluffynugget squird nervously in Ivy’s arms, tiny wings fluttering.
No one said anything. Selvara to his left, Venya to his right. Nivara just behind him. All three stiff as statues.
They didn’t say anything, but it was obvious. Shoulders tense. Eyes not moving.
They hated this place.
Of course they would.
This was their kind being sold like pets.
Seraphina noticed Nivara’s fingers trembling slightly. She reached out and held her hand without saying a word.
"...Princess," Nivara muttered.
Seraphina squeezed. "Nini."
"...I am fine," She whispered.
"Mn."
Venya’s fists clenched at her sides. Selvara kept her chin high, shoulders rigid.
Aiden reached out and bonk, patted both their heads lightly.
Both froze.
Selvara blinked.
Venya’s breathing cald by like 30%.
"My Lord is calming," Venya muttered like she was reading a science report.
"Shut up," Selvara mumbled, leaning closer anyway.
The door in front of them creaked open.
And out ca the definition of filth.
Short. Greasy hair slicked back like it’s afraid to touch air. One monocle stuck in his right eye like he thinks he’s classy. Rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. Laughing like soone who definitely raped childrens for fun.
"WELCO! WELCO!" he said, voice slimy. "Ohhh, esteed custor, I sensed money the mont you walked near!"
Aiden didn’t blink.
The man leaned closer. "What kind does good sir desire? Catfolk? Elves? Demons? Beastkin? Strong ones? Defiant ones? Broken ones? Virgins? Twins? Heheheh—"
Aiden stared blankly. "I’ll know when I see it."
The man froze mid-laugh. Then grinned wider. "Hohhh~ A connoisseur."
"...Sure."
"Follow ! Follow !"
He turned around and waved them in, waddling like a penguin that’s too proud of existing.
They entered the corridor.
Dark. Damp. Long.
Cells on both sides.
Every single one occupied.
n, won, beastkin, elves, orcs, demons. So chained to walls, so collapsed on the floor, so staring blankly, so baring teeth. All naked. All in filth.
Selvara looked away imdiately. Venya shut her eyes. Nivara stared forward like a soldier. Seraphina gripped Nivara’s hand.
"...Disgusting," Selvara muttered.
"...Filth," Venya added.
A werewolf-man lunged at the bars as they passed.
CLANG!
"RAAA—!!"
Electricity shot through his body.
"Shut it, mutt!" the shopkeeper hissed, snapping his fingers.
A slave crest on the man’s neck lit up — and he collapsed, twitching.
The girls flinched. Aiden didn’t.
Another cage — a thin horned demon girl. Starving. One eye dead, one angry. She smashed against the bars. Pain crackled through her body.
"Why do they always resist?" the shopkeeper hissed, clicking his tongue. "Better when quiet. Looks prettier when they give up, hehehe."
Nivara’s jaw tightened.
"...Nini," Seraphina whispered.
"I am calm," Nivara said, though her fists curled tighter.
Aiden walked, hands in pockets. Thristle muttered, "Can I punch him?"
"No," Aiden said.
"Later?"
"Maybe."
---
*NOTICE: USER IS GETTING CLOSER
---
I can feel it. Aiden thought.
Venya whispered without opening her eyes, "My Lord... purchase all. Venya demands liberation."
Selvara muttered, "Burn it down."
Another cage. Male demon. His eyes t Venya’s. She looked away. Aiden patted her head. Shoulders dropped slightly.
The air grew heavier, reeks of sweat, blood, and rot. Arisha muttered softly, "Disgusting."
Nyxion, monotone as ever, said, "Bad aura. disapproves."
Zerra, slightly ahead, whispered, "Do not show weakness. He’ll try to raise the price."
Selvara scoffed. "He’s already breathing. Price won’t save him."
"Talk less," Aiden said. Everyone shut up.
The rchant babbled. "Strong ones here! Obedient there! Pleasure toys in the basent, hehe—"
Aiden stopped walking. Stared at the rchant. Expressionless. Looked down the corridor.
"Show your best."
The rchant froze. Then smiled wider. "Hehhhh~ Right this way, sir. Right this way."
Fluffynugget squeaked. The rchant froze mid-step.
"What... what is this?" He asked, leaning closer, monocle glinting. "I’ve... never seen one before." He reached out, inspecting Fluffynugget. "A rare... exquisite creature. I’ll pay a great sum... maybe a few free slaves along with it—"
Ivy’s face turned red. "N-No! He’s not—he’s mine!"
Aiden stepped forward, cold. "He is not for sale."
The rchant recoiled. "Ah! Of course! Apologies, sir! Truly remarkable creature, I ant no disrespect!"
Fluffynugget snuggled closer, hiding completely against Ivy’s chest. Ivy patted him gently.
The rchant muttered under his breath, visibly flustered, then gestured them to the ahead.
---
Aiden finally stopped. He turned, eyes locking on the cell.
The cold, damp air of the cell clung to her naked, slackened form. Her skin, once a deep, vibrant purple, had faded to an ashen, mottled lilac, stretched tightly over the unforgiving lines of her ribs and collarbones, bearing the mark of neglect and illness.
The sprawling, intricate black tattoos that covered her chest anf her whole body seed less like powerful sigils and more like cruel, branded scars against the sick pallor, emphasizing the sunken hollows of her collarbones.
Her boobs, though still massive, the generous swell of her bust was deflated by starvation, the slave marking between her massive boobs, glow proudly.
She lay huddled, her long, silver hair—matted with filth and damp—spread across the stone floor, the bold crimson streak along her temple looking less vivid and more like a sar of old, dried blood. Most haunting were her eyes; the fierce, cat-like pupils and glowing gold color were dimd by fever, fixed in a stare of profound, empty resignation that betrayed a complete and devastating loss of the will to live.
The shopkeeper shuffled beside him, eyes narrowing, lips curling into a smirk.
He walked toward the cell. Others followed.
Aiden stood before the cell, his gaze unwavering. He didn’t blink.
"Sir... don’t bother with her," He hissed, leaning closer. "She’s sick... will die soon. Well..." His voice dropped, turning almost evil. "...you can pleasure yourself with her if you want."
Aiden’s eyes didn’t move from hers. Cold, flat. "Open the cell."
"I beg your pardon?"
"Open the cell," Aiden repeated, voice sharper.
The locks clanged. The gate scraped. The shopkeeper muttered and cursed and then stepped back with an exaggerated bow, like this was a performance.
Aiden moved without hurry. The slave sat up. He stepped inside the cell and crouched down so his face was level with hers. Close enough to see the tremor in her lashes, far enough that she couldn’t flinch into him and call it safety.
She didn’t respond. No twitch, no lift of her head. Only the shallow rasp of air.
"Hey," he said, soft at first. "Hey. Look at ."
No response. Only the shallow rasp of air.
"Listen." He leaned in. "There is a choice right now. Fight or die. That’s it."
She didn’t move. Her eyes stayed fixed on nothing.
The shopkeeper’s patience snapped. He stepped forward, raising his boot to kick her gently, testing her reaction.
Aiden’s hand shot out, catching the boot mid-air. He held the shopkeeper’s foot with one hand, the other slamming a heavy pouch of gold coins onto the counter with a thud. "That’s enough," he said flatly. "Consider it paid."
The rchant recoiled, eyes wide, as he took the pouch, "Thank you, sir."
Grinning like a goon.
Aiden returned his attention to the girl. His fingers hovered, unsure whether to touch, how to wake the spark inside her.
Selvara made a sound — low and disgusted. "This is wrong. This is—"
"Quiet," Aiden said. Not sharp. Not cruel. Just a line pulled tight. "Let ."
Venya’s voice was a whisper. "My Lord... she looks... gone."
"She’s not gone," Aiden said. "She’s hurt. Hurt isn’t gone. Hurt is fixable."
The shopkeeper snorted. "Fixable? She’s a corpse in waiting. You buying corpses now?"
Aiden put his palm on her shoulder. He didn’t prod. He didn’t panic. He planted his hand like an anchor. "You hurt," he said. "You’re tired. You think you’re done. That’s what they want you to believe. They make you small so people forget you can break back into sothing big."
The girl’s breath hitched. Tiny. Almost nothing.
Thristle whispered, too loud for the hallway. "She... moved?"
"Yeah," Aiden murmured. "She did. That twitch is a fight."
Seraphina’s voice was fragile. "Nini... look."
Nivara pressed a hand to her mouth. "Shh. Let him do it."
He kept his eyes on the girl. "Listen to . You are not a choice of convenience for anyone. You bleed because soone decided you bleed. You starve because soone decided you starve. I’m here because I decide otherwise."
The girl’s fingers twitched and then curled. A half-breath, a half-blink. Nothing heroic. Nothing cinematic. Just a small, stubborn motion.
Aiden gripped her shoulder harder — not hurting, just steady. "You will fight," he said. "You will claw and spit and scrape and whine and curse and do whatever bastard thing you need to do to stay. You’ll take a little of the pain and turn it into proof that you don’t belong in a pit. Or you stay where you are, and I’ll prefer a quicker death to watching you rot piece by piece. That’s the truth. Which is it?"
---
END OF Chapter : 128 : THE SLAVE TRADER’S SHOP!
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