The sketches of the first illustration of Red Overpowered are finished and the contributors will receive the final illustration soon.
Thanks again for your financial support, without which nothing is possible.
------
Thanks to the new contributor Stephaus for his level 5 subscription. Your help is crucial.
-----
POV LOGAN
It was six in the morning. The city still slept under the dark veil of night; the sun had yet to dare peek its rays over the horizon. A peaceful silence reigned, broken only by the distant sigh of wind brushing against the shutters. Aria was asleep in the white bed, her body half-covered by the sheets, her breathing steady and calm. Her fur, now clean, had regained its dazzling whiteness, almost perfectly blending with the fabric.
"If Aria is going to follow me or later gain her independence, she has to become stronger. She needs a path, a future, and for that she'll have to grow. She needs to gain skills, levels, her class everything that has been denied to her until now. I'll focus on her training as soon as possible, I thought silently."
While waiting for seven o'clock, I began tailoring an outfit for her to wear outside and in combat. When seven arrived, I approached her, placing my hand gently on her shoulder.
"Aria…" I murmured.
She stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering as her mind slowly returned to reality.
"I get the feeling you had a good night's sleep. After what you've been through, that's only natural."
"Yes, I slept very well… it's been so long. Thank you."
"Good. Now, get dressed," I said, tossing her the clothes I had made.
"They're a bit heavy."
"That's normal. They're combat clothes reinforced with hardened leather and metal plates. Today will be your first day of training. If you want to follow me, you have to get stronger."
She dressed quickly while I waited outside the room, leaning against the hallway wall. A few seconds later, she emerged, her gaze firm, carrying a newfound determination. Without exchanging a word, we left the inn and headed into the city.
My arm throbbed more and more; I needed to find somewhere to have it treated. On the way, I asked several passersby, hoping at least one of them could direct me to a reliable place. Eventually, one pointed me toward a small, discreet clinic tucked between two shops. A local healer ran the place. It looked modest, but clean and reassuring.
After a quick examination, he agreed to treat me on the condition that I pay two silver coins. Without discussion, I pulled them from my pouch.
However, as the treatment progressed, a searing, lightning-like pain shot through my arm. The nerve endings damaged by the burns were regenerating, and every pulse felt like a blaze under my skin. I didn't say a word. I just clenched my teeth, eyes fixed on the ceiling, until the healer was done.
Once the treatment was complete, I took the opportunity to ask him an important question:
"Would you know where I can buy healing potions?"
The healer answered with a slight smile that he sold some himself—perfect. I decided to stock up. The potions were categorized by effectiveness: some only healed minor wounds, while others, far rarer, could fully restore a broken body. Those, of course, were outrageously expensive around a hundred silver coins for a single vial.
I bought fifty low-grade healing potions, each able to restore about twenty percent of a wounded body's vitality. The price was reasonable: twenty silver per vial, costing me a total of one gold coin. A necessary investment for the battles to come.
After leaving the healer's office, I headed to a weapon shop. I wanted to equip Aria as soon as possible. However, the first merchant we encountered wasn't exactly welcoming.
No sooner had we crossed the threshold than he barked, his face dark:
"There's no way that beast sets foot in my store!"
"But she's my slave, and I need her to get a weapon."
"Then ask her what she wants, but she stays outside!"
Aria wasn't allowed inside, and simply asking her what weapon she'd like wasn't an option. She needed to handle them, feel their weight, their balance… find the one that suited her build, her strength, and most of all her natural affinity.
I decided to leave that hostile shop and look for another where she could choose her weapon herself. Unfortunately, the task proved harder than expected. As I walked through the merchant district, I noticed several shops clearly displayed their stance: signs hung on the facades bluntly stating : "No demi-humans allowed" or "Beastfolk forbidden."
Such discrimination was sadly common, but seeing it written so plainly knotted my stomach.
After a long walk punctuated by disdainful looks, I finally came across a more modest shop, which, at first glance, bore no such restrictions. I hoped I had finally found a place where Aria could freely pick her weapon.
This time, Aria was able to enter the shop and try several weapons. The vendor, an older man with sharp yet neutral eyes, made no comment about her nature. That alone was a relief as we began trying things out.
She tested several pieces: an axe slightly too heavy, a bow with a string too taut for her current strength. Attack gauntlets she seemed to like for a moment before setting them down. She moved with curiosity, taking her time to weigh each weapon, focused as if searching for an extension of herself.
Then her eyes fell on a massive warhammer resting at the back of the shop. Against all odds, she reached out her arms, lifted it with difficulty—only to lose her balance and topple backward under its weight. A loud boom echoed through the workshop.
I couldn't stop a laugh from escaping at the sight of her sprawled on the floor, red as a tomato, legs in the air.
"You think that's funny?" she huffed, turning her head away, her cheeks red with shame.
I shrugged, still smiling:
"Not at all, of course not," I replied with mock seriousness.
Aria puffed her cheeks, clearly annoyed by my teasing and little lie. She crossed her arms for a moment, pouting as she looked away. But her bad mood didn't last long.
After trying a few more weapons, she finally stopped in front of a medium-sized sword. She picked it up carefully, weighing it with her eyes, then began making a few practice swings. To my surprise, her movements were wide, precise, and remarkably fluid for someone with no formal training. The weapon seemed like a natural extension of her body.
"Looks like you've found what suits you best," I said with a sincere smile.
She nodded, her eyes shining.
"Yes… It's perfect for me," she replied in a whisper, clearly delighted.
"But… I'd also like to take the gauntlets if possible."
"Of course."
"But… is that okay? Isn't it a bit expensive?" she added, lowering her voice, suddenly looking worried.
I gave her a reassuring smile:
"Don't worry about that. I'll handle it."
I had the money I'd saved up and the money from those I'd killed. Her expression eased immediately, and a soft smile lit her face.
I completed the transaction, paying a total of 150 silver coins. This purchase left me nearly broke, my funds running dangerously low despite what I'd taken from those fools.
But I still had one last purchase to make, likely the most crucial: supplies. Food, water in sufficient quantity. I intended to stay in the forest for a long time with Aria, until she reached a decent level. She needed to toughen up, gain experience, and learn how to survive. And there's no better teacher than the field.
Once out of the shop, we headed to the guild. As always, Marie greeted us at the entrance, faithfully at her post.
"Did you have a pleasant night?" Marie asked, welcoming us with her usual smile.
"It was restorative, thank you," I replied simply.
Marie then cast a kindly look toward Aria and added with a conspiratorial air:
"You're much prettier like this; I can see Logan is already taking care of you."
Aria blushed slightly, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment.
"Uh… yes…" she murmured, unsure how to react.
Marie leaned gently toward her and whispered reassuringly:
"Don't worry, I'm not one of those who discriminate. You can talk to me."
Surprised by such kindness, Aria raised her eyes toward me, visibly unsettled. I gave her a small nod and an encouraging smile to reassure her.
Then I turned back to Marie:
"Tell me, do you know anyone who could lend me an item bag? I really need one for supplies."
"Item bags are very hard to make and extremely rare, so I doubt anyone would lend one. But if you truly want to get one, I know where you should go."
"Tell me."
She gave me directions to where I might have a chance of finding an item bag.
"Thanks, Marie. We'll head there," I said, also picking up several quests from the quest board.
"All right. Happy hunting, and good training to you, Aria," Marie said with a bright smile.
Aria looked at Marie without saying a word, her eyes pensive, before turning to me to follow silently.
We then took the path Marie had indicated. It led us down a narrow alley hidden between two large buildings in the merchant district. A dark passage where our footsteps echoed against the cobblestones, leading to a stone staircase. We descended in silence, plunged into darkness broken only by the flickering glow of torches on the walls.
At the end of the corridor, an opening appeared, revealing a vast underground market. The space was immense, far larger than I'd imagined. Dozens of stalls stretched out, forming a labyrinth buzzing with colors, scents, and murmurs.
I turned to Aria:
"From here on, please keep your composure," I told her seriously.
She nodded slightly, her ears lowering.
We stepped cautiously into the market. Some stands offered rare potions, others customized weapons or carefully preserved monster materials. But the deeper we went, the heavier the atmosphere grew. Suddenly, the smell changed—a mix of fear, resignation, and suffering hit us.
On the side, several cages were lined up against the walls. Inside, demi-humans were crammed together: catfolk, dogfolk, rabbitfolk, and many others, all chained, slave collars tight around their necks. Their empty eyes followed us as we passed. There were even humans among them, likely reduced to merchandise because of unpaid debts or judicial sentences.
Aria turned her gaze away, her fists trembling slightly. I could feel her anger rising, but she remained silent.
Uncomfortable, she walked close against my side, her eyes nervously scanning our surroundings, her face tense with both worry and the silent rage simmering within her. As for me, I kept a neutral mask, impassive. I let nothing show, even though the sight of all those emaciated, beaten, exhausted bodies tightened my throat.
It only took one glance to understand: these people were at their limit. Malnourished, beaten, treated like mere objects. Their skin marked by chains, their limbs gaunt… they were only shadows of what they once were.
Suddenly, a voice called out to our right:
"Oh? A new face in our underground market."
I turned my head to see a man approaching with a fluid, almost dancing gait. He wore a black top hat adorned with a purple ribbon, round glasses, and an outfit that looked more politician than merchant. A satin-finished purple coat with some gold trim, paired with pants far too tight to seem honest.
I quickly scrutinized him, assessing his posture, his gestures, his smile too wide to be sincere.
"Are you Macron?" I asked in a calm voice.
The man stopped, then slightly tipped his hat.
"Indeed. And to whom do I have the honor?"
"My name is Logan, and this is my slave, Aria."
At the mention of the word slave, I felt Aria flinch slightly at my side, but she remained silent.
"Oh… those red eyes… Could you be the new adventurer nicknamed Red?" the man asked, squinting behind his opaque glasses.
"That's me," I replied calmly.
"And what brings you to my underground market?"
"It seems you're the one who approached me first," I answered bluntly, my gaze cold.
A smile spread across his lips.
"True, I admit it. I was intrigued by this unfamiliar face… especially by those red eyes. There's something… fascinating about them," he said, a sickly gleam in his voice.
"My eyes intrigue you, perhaps… but unfortunately for you, they're not for sale," I replied dryly.
Macron chuckled softly, a muffled, almost icy laugh.
"What a shame. But you seemed to be looking for me, weren't you?"
"Indeed, Marie told me about you. I'm looking for an item bag. It seems you're the only one who owns any here."
He slowly nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully.
"That's correct, I have a few in my possession. But you know, this kind of artifact isn't exactly common, and it doesn't come cheap."
"How much?" I asked flatly.
"That depends on the rank, of course," he replied in a falsely detached tone. "For a rank D item bag, it'll be twenty gold coins."
I barely had a penny left. And twenty gold coins wasn't exactly an amount one could gather easily. But with the big hunt ahead, I could probably scrape that together soon enough.
"That's a fair market price…" I acknowledged neutrally, not betraying my thoughts.
I took a moment to pretend to deliberate, as if this were weighing heavily on me.
"Well, you see… I'd like to take out a loan."
At those words, Macron's face lit up with a wide smile. A smile far too enthusiastic to be reassuring.
"Oh… I see. Now this is getting interesting," he said, rubbing his hands together slowly. "In that case, let's talk numbers."
He feigned pondering, though his answer already seemed ready.
"The interest rate is ten gold coins per month, not a single coin less."
***
Aria's face tensed, her brows furrowing under the surge of rising anger. She stared at Macron with an icy intensity. She wasn't fooled; this offer was outright extortion and even worse—a shameless abuse of weakness.
At such a rate, repayment would become a nightmare, nearly impossible. Just obtaining a few gold coins was already a feat for her. Imagining Logan gathering ten gold coins in a month was optimistic… and the next month, he'd owe twenty. A vicious spiral; in the worst-case scenario, the debt would balloon until it swallowed him whole. Inevitably driving him toward one outcome: becoming a slave to pay the impossible.
The thought swirled like poison in Aria's mind. She couldn't accept it. Not after everything Logan had done for her. The man who saved her… reduced to a slave? Unacceptable. Unthinkable.
A burning rage seized her heart. A sudden, uncontrollable thirst for blood rose within her.
Her pupils widened violently, her teeth lengthened into sharp predator's fangs. A wild, oppressive aura erupted from her entire body. Macron, driven by pure survival instinct, stepped back, throat dry but it was too late. Aria, consumed by fury, was already ready to pounce.
Calmly, Logan gently placed his hand on Aria's head and ruffled her hair, a faint soothing smile on his lips. His gaze, calm and kind, met hers. Instantly, she relaxed; the rage within her slowly evaporated, as if his presence alone were enough to bring her back to reason.
A bead of sweat slid slowly down Macron's temple, silent witness to the tension that had just filled the air.
"Very well, I accept your offer. I'll pay you back every month," Logan declared in a composed, almost neutral tone.
"Very well, then let's sign a contract…" Macron replied, starting to pull out some parchments.
Without warning, Logan suddenly seized his hand in an iron grip, making the parchment fall. He locked eyes with him, and his previously impassive expression shifted into an icy mask. This was no longer neutrality it was silent menace. That face, that dark and unyielding stare froze Macron to his core.
"Don't push your luck," Logan murmured in a low, cutting voice. "I know perfectly well what these abusive interest rates are for. You hope to push me into slavery so you can get my eyes, don't you?"
He leaned in slightly, his gaze growing even heavier.
"But look closely at me… Do I look like someone who doesn't keep his commitments?"
Macron paled, his body trembling under Logan's pressure.
"Y-You're right… a simple verbal agreement should suffice! And since… Marie sent you, I suppose you're… an honest man…" he stammered, desperately trying to save face.
"Good. I prefer it that way. And if there's the slightest problem… come find me at the guild," Logan concluded curtly.
He finally let go, and the man, visibly relieved, hurried to hand him the item bag with slightly trembling hands.
"It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Macron," Logan said with a smile.
Then, without granting the merchant another glance, still frozen with fear, he turned on his heel and walked away calmly, Aria following close behind.
Macron remained frozen for a moment before letting out a long sigh, wiping the sweat still beading on his forehead.
"I'd better think twice before trying to swindle that kind of client…" he muttered to himself, his stomach still knotted.
On the way back, as they left the marketplace, a brutal scene caught their attention. A man, dressed in ragged clothes but with a cruel look in his eyes, was savagely beating a young rabbit-girl on the ground.
"Aaah… stop… P-please…" she begged in a broken voice.
Her body trembled with pain and fear. When she spotted Logan and Aria passing nearby, she gathered the little strength she had left and stretched her hand out toward them.
"P-Please… help me… I don't want to be a slave anymore…" she cried out, tears streaming down her dirty cheeks.
But the man seized her brutally by the ears and yanked her toward him like some soulless animal.
"You really think anyone's going to help you, you worthless trash?!" he snarled before striking her again, his fist smashing into her face.
"Aaaah… no…" she whimpered weakly.
Logan didn't stop. He kept walking forward with Aria at the same unhurried pace, calmly leaving the market.
A moment later, screams erupted not from the slaves in their cages, but from the nearby merchants and customers, who shouted in shock and panic.
The man had just been impaled through the head by a long stone spike, so clean and swift that no one understood where it had come from. His head snapped violently backward, splattering the wall behind him. A few droplets of blood landed on the rabbit-girl's face as she stood frozen in terror.
That day, a slaver died in an inexplicable way. No trace of magic. No evidence. No culprit. Just a brutal death and a heavy, suffocating silence.
WORLD NOTE
ITEM BAGS (OR DIMENSIONAL BAGS)
Type: Magical Utility Artifact / Dimensional Container
Purpose: Massive storage of items without suffering the actual weight or bulk
Magical Principle: Internal space manipulation via a stabilized mana-anchored micro-plane
How It Works
Item bags operate by creating a small pocket dimension anchored to the enchanted fabric of the bag.
When an object is placed inside, it is transported into this intermediary space, held in a near-perfect state of preservation.
The user can access the contents mentally or through an opening incantation linked to their mana flow.
The weight of the stored objects does not affect the carrier.
A bag holding 100 kg of ore will weigh scarcely more than an empty bag.
Bag Classification (by Rank)
Bags are categorized based on capacity, stability, and accessibility.
The rank also determines the level of magical protection.
Final Table: Dimensional Bags – System & Pricing
Rank
Estimated Capacity
Special Features
Estimated Price
Rank F
~20 kg
Fragile, low stability, beginner-grade
2 gold coins
Rank E
~75 kg
Basic equipment, few weapons, short-term supplies
8 gold coins
Rank D
~200 kg
Standard adventurer's bag, weight nullification, basic mental access
20 gold coins
Rank C
~500 kg
Advanced storage, heavy items, various resources, minor magical items
60 gold coins
Rank B
~1000 kg
Compartmentalized, extended preservation, long-term expedition management
150 gold coins
Rank A
~2000 kg
Stasis for docile creatures, storage for medium-grade artifacts, magical lock
400 gold coins
Rank S
~5000 kg
Instant mental access, secure storage for powerful artifacts
1,200 gold coins
Rank SS
Variable (potentially infinite)
Legendary artifacts, evolving dimensions, unique
Priceless / only through quests or inheritance
Value and Rarity
Dimensional bags are extremely valuable. Even a Rank D bag can sometimes cost more than high-quality armor.
Rank A and above are considered treasures by guilds or empires.
Most are engraved with a personal soul-bound seal tied to the owner.
Counterfeits exist, but they are dangerous: some unstable bags implode or even sever a limb into the storage space if not properly stabilized.
Notable Advantages
Massive portability with no physical effortReduced retrieval time via mental selection (Rank C and higher)Preservation of food, potions, or biological specimensStrategic transport of materials, components, reserve weapons
Risks and Limitations
Bags may be locked or sealed upon the owner's death or through spellworkSome oversized, unstable, or "living" items cannot be stored in low-tier bagsDimensional rupture possible if overloaded beyond its magical limitInterior can be accessed if not protected by a personal seal
Known Variants
Belt PouchMage's ValiseNomad's SatchelFloating Storage CubeWar Chest
"In an adventurer's life, space is profit. The more you carry, the better you survive… and the richer you become."
----------
Chapters 32-33-34-35 36-37-38-39 are already available here:
https://bit.ly/3i1HaYm
You can help me financially and have access to many advantages just from 1 €. It is important for me to be independent
Thanks to the contributors.
Thanks to Stephaus for her subscription level 5.
Thanks to Cadméa for her subscription level 4.
Thanks to Allan Kellar for his subscription level 3.
Thanks to Jeffrey for his subscription level 3.
Thanks to Slik Silk for his subscription level 3.
Thanks to Bryce for his subscription level 3.
Thanks to Moha for his subscription level 3.
Thanks to Matthieu for his subscription level 1
------------
Special thanks to
Rebecca/Amari/Zezima/Crowny_66/Bored dragon/ Sky_Shay/A_F_D/Fidelissama/Morgan/Arjunn/TheGreatSucc/Jared/ Grimjaw/Damion/ Charmaine/ Andrea buch/ Lord veldora for her power stones.