The stench of the slave market stung Field's nose, a nauseating mix of sweat and filth that made his eyes water. Those stingy merchants were like vampires, refusing to spend a single copper to let the slaves bathe. Five or six of them were crammed into tiny cages, forced to eat, sleep, and relieve themselves all in the same confined space.
No privacy, no dignity—not even the right to end their own misery, thanks to the brainwashing they'd endured since childhood.
In the outdoor cages, many female slaves were stripped bare, their bodies exposed with not even a rag to cover their chests, put on display for gawking passersby. It was a marketing tactic—and a damn effective one, drawing in toothless old creeps every day.
"Sir, care to buy a slave? Perfect for the farm—hardworking stock!"
"Rare elf slave, only a thousand gold coins!"
"Grand opening, come take a look, sir!"
Field, dressed in a sharp black robe with a fine steel sword at his hip, had a refined look that screamed wealth. The slave traders' eyes lit up. Nobles were their favorite customers—rich and willing to spend, unlike the broke losers who just ogled without buying. Plus, nobles went through slaves like crazy, often returning as repeat buyers.
To these lords, slaves were worth less than their hunting dogs, disposable and easily discarded.
Field scanned the iron cages. The slaves' eyes were hollow, their hair matted and faces so grimy it was hard to tell men from women. Whip scars crisscrossed their bodies. When a few met his gaze, they quickly looked down, trembling.
"How much?" The green dot on his map pointed to someone among these slaves. Field asked while searching.
"Sir, prices vary wildly by race," said a merchant with a weaselly face like Nobita's friend from *Doraemon*, rubbing his hands greedily. "Goblins, halflings, and pigmen go for 1 silver coin each. Subhumans are 2 silver, beastmen 6 silver. If you're after a plaything, heh, the sky's the limit."
With a sleazy grin, the merchant gestured to a large indoor cage. The star attraction was the elf priced at a thousand gold coins—stunningly beautiful in sheer, revealing fabric that showcased her pale skin. But her eyes were vacant, like a broken doll.
"This elf's been ruined by goblins—given birth to at least twenty-six kids. Ha! Still a hot commodity, though. I'm sending her to auction, where she'll fetch way more than a thousand gold. Interested?"
"Not my type." The green dot wasn't her, and Field couldn't afford a toy like that anyway. He shook his head. "What about human slaves?"
"Humans are smart and obedient. Males are 4 silver, females 25 silver—built for work. If you're looking for fun, I still recommend the elf. Even if you don't play with her, her flesh is great for vitality tonics, or you could use her for magic crafting."
A chill ran down Field's spine. In this world, nobles weren't the elegant figures from TV dramas—they were feudal monsters. He'd heard elf meat was a rejuvenating delicacy, turning proud elves into dinner plates despite their human-like appearance.
As they chatted, Field zeroed in on the green dot. His eyes landed on a cage in the corner, the dot hovering above it like a game marker.
It was a subhuman—a white wolf variant, with red pupils, wolf-like ears, and a tail.
She lay motionless in the damp cage, clad in rough burlap, her eyes occasionally darting to the merchant's keyring.
"A rare prairie breed," the merchant boasted with pride. "Our slavers fought hard to raid their camp—those savages had insane willpower. If you want to play with a wolf subhuman, bring servants. One wrong move, and she might bite off… well, you know." He winked suggestively.
"A beastgirl?"
Field's heart raced. As a hardcore otaku from Earth, he had zero resistance to red-eyed beastgirls.
Like coaxing a dog, he cautiously reached out to pat her head.
"Grrrowl~"
"Best be careful, sir," Butler Cao warned, frowning.
A low, threatening growl rumbled from her throat, her crimson eyes flashing danger. Captain Connor, hand on his sword, tensed up. "Lord Field, I'd steer clear. I'd rather not deal with trouble before we reach Nightfall Hold."
"No need to freak out—she's kinda cute." Despite his words, Field was sensible and pulled back. He saw defiance and despair in her eyes—adorable yet pitiful. Adjusting his collar, he asked, "How much?"
"Only three gold coins!" The merchant, spotting Field's interest, jacked up the price with eyes closed.
One gold coin equaled a hundred silver, and one silver equaled a hundred copper.
Field's face hardened, eyes narrowing. "You said subhumans were 2 silver. You trying to scam a noble?"
"Oh, she's special—look how gorgeous she is! Freshly caught, guaranteed virgin, never ogled by filthy peasants. She's auction-bound with that prime look. Too bad she's a subhuman—unclean! Otherwise, I wouldn't sell her for 3 gold."
"Fifty silver. Don't test my patience," Field said, arms crossed, dangling the carrot. "I'm heading to my new territory soon. I won't just buy her—there'll be more slaves and toys. One deal or a lifetime of business—you do the math."
"Gah!" The merchant's greed kicked in.
After some internal debate, the prospect of cozying up to a land-holding noble won out. He gritted his teeth. "Depends on how many you buy."
The butler glanced at Field, puzzled. The old Field never haggled, just pitied the merchants' struggles.
After careful selection, Field bought 12 human slaves and 1 subhuman slave, including the beastgirl, for 53 gold coins.
"Sir, here are the soul contracts—all verified by Chosen Ones."
"Contracts?" Field took the parchment, covered in a list of names.
"Yes, sworn in the slaves' blood. Defy your will, and they'll burn to ash by divine fire," the merchant cackled, handing over the ropes tied to the slaves. "So, have your fun, dear customer."
"I will." Field waved him off. Heading to the cursed land, fun or not, corruption might kill him anyway.