Douglass was nervous. Not because of the monsters in this forest, no, they were weak and would be easy to kill even for those half-wit [Bandit]s they hired.

He wasn't scared of the slaves inside the cages either, even if some of them surpassed him in level. After all, the Slave Mark made it impossible for them to disobey the careful set of orders he'd given them, and once a Slave Mark was imprinted on one's soul, it was basically impossible to remove it except for the [Slavemaster] who created them, and only if he was the slave's current master. And, as he had imprinted those marks himself with his power as a [Slavemaster], and he wasn't going to transfer the authority until the slaves were bought, there would be no chance for the slaves to rebel.

No, the reason he was uneasy was that the empire had been constantly cracking down covert operations and illegal trades these past few months, sentencing anyone involved in them to death. Anyone not rich enough to bribe the officials, that is.

And Douglass wasn't rich. He came from a relatively long lineage of [Slavemaster]s, being the fourth in his family, but now he was the only one. His father had been caught and executed two months back, leaving him with little money, maybe enough to live comfortably as a commoner for a couple of years, but no more.

Eventually, he had been forced to take on a slave smuggling job. It wasn't hard to find one. After all, there was always a shortage of [Slavemaster]s, and even more so now that so many of them had been executed. This one paid quite well, but he mainly chose it because there weren't any strings attached. Once they reached the Volcanic City, they would each set off on their own.

But, as he tried to calm himself, he heard the telltale whistle of air being cut at high speeds, then the subdued grunt of a man. He looked back in a panic, only to see one of the [Bandit]s falling to the ground, his hands clutching the open gash on his neck where blood was rapidly gushing out from.

He was already a goner, so Douglass ignored the dying man as he tried, in a panic, to figure out in what direction the projectile had come from. He had no clue, the only circumstantial evidence now dying in a pool of blood, so he instead scurried below the carriage carrying their supplies before entering a false floor that could only be accessed from below. It was a compartment meant to hide illegal goods when passing through checkpoints, so it was quite narrow, but he barely managed to fit inside.

But, as he did all that, a second and a third man died, both with their heads cleanly cut off this time.

He hid inside the compartment, hoping against hope that the mysterious attacker hadn't noticed him going into hiding, suppressing his franctic breathing.

He heard two more desperate screams, followed by two dull thuds. He could only guess that another two had fallen. Only five of them were left.

After that, he heard multiple voices, but due to the thick layer of wood, between them and him, he knew not what they meant. The voices eventually died down, followed by an eerie silence. Douglass didn't dare make the slightest movement, lest the mysterious assassin hear him.

But then, he heard heavy footsteps approach the carriage. They reached the entrance and entered it. Douglass held his breath...

...and then a hand broke through the wooden planks above him and grabbed him by the collar, then pulled him up, forcing his body to crash through the wooden floorboards.

The man wordlessly dragged him outside, where he saw the three [Black Merchant]s of the group and the only remaining [Bandit]. They were tied up with thick ropes, their mounts stuffed with cloth so they wouldn't speak. Douglass could only imagine the twisted reason why the man had kept them alive.

They were days away from the city, so transporting and feeding them would be quite hard if he was also leading the slaves, and keeping a [Slavemaster] alive near a group of his slaves was suicide anyway. Then again, did the man even know Douglass was a [Slavemaster]?

It depended on how long the man had been trailing them, and how many conversations he'd heard. If he knew, had he kept Douglass alive in order to force him to release the slaves? It was certainly a possibility, but then why would he keep the other four alive? Plus, the man clearly had no qualms with killing, seeing as the bodies of the other five were carelessly piled onto each other a few meters away.

Also, the man wouldn't be able to claim much of a bounty for bringing them for the city alive anyway, since none of the members of their ragtag team were even remotely known criminals, only having partaken in a few dirty businesses.

But Douglass's fear turned into bewilderment as the man took a small, white bead out of his sleeve and threw it forward, where it surprisingly stopped in mid-air and unfolded into a door-sized hole, like a tear in space. Inside it, Douglass could see the night sky, seemingly stretching infinitely.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The hooded man yanked them by their bindings and threw them inside one by one, and Douglass was too confused to even resist or fight back.

He closed his eyes, preparing himself for the pain of his everything being rendered into ribbons–

–But he felt nothing. Actually, he did feel something. He felt the ticklish touch of fresh grass beneath him, and the gentle embrace of a soft, summer breeze.

He warily opened his eyes, and was shocked when he saw that he really was in a field. A beautiful field of flowers, at that. But, just as he was starting to relax...

...the man yanked him by the neck again, and threw him out through the same portal form which he entered.

He saw the other four come out too, followed by the man. Then, a blade popped out from his sleeve, and before Douglass even had time to think about the implications, he felt his vision turn sideways and fall into the ground. He saw his limp body, spurting a red fountain from its neck.

Then, his world went dark.

----------------------------------------

I made sure that the five men's souls had been destroyed, before going back inside Flora.

'So, did it work?'

'Yeah! It says six out of thirty now!'

'Great. I'll bring you more people in a second, so just make sure the bees don't sting them, alright?'

'Of course!'

I went back out, and threw the cloths covering both of the carriages away. Inside were, as I expected, many dirty, malnourished, terrified slaves huddled together, all dressed in rags. There was no cliché slave collar, but they definitely still had that 'leech' on their souls. It seemed like killing the [Slavemaster] hadn't made them dissapear.

"Hello, everyone. Now, you must be confused about what has happened, since your slavers are gone and instead, I am here. You must have heard the sounds of battle a few minutes ago, right? Well, those scum are all dead now. I want to set you all free, but I need you to do something for me first. See that strange hole there?" I pointed at Flora's entrance, "I need you to go in, then go back out. That's all."

Many looked at me hopefully, but some other were eyeing me warily. It was normal. These people had to have had some rough lives to end up like this, so they wouldn't immediately trust some hooded, dodgy stranger just because he allegedly dealt with some wrongdoers. I decided to show them it wasn't dangerous, to at least gain their trust slightly.

"If anyone volunteers to go first, I will give them an Intermediate Healing Potion. Some of you are sick or injured, and this potion will solve that for you."

I pulled the vial I had prepared beforehand put of my sleeve. It actually wasn't what I claimed it was, I didn't have any potions of such low grade. (Although actually, Intermediate Healing Potions sold for quite high prices) It was actually a High-grade Healing Potion, which was usually reserved for the strongest of adventurers or the royal knights, diluted with three parts of water per part of potion. According to my limited alchemical knowledge, the effect should be ever so slightly better than that of Intermediate Potions, despite the composition being completely different.

I could see several people's eyes turn hungry at the sight of the potion, but none dared to step forth. Eventually, it was a thin, sickly girl who looked like she was on her deathbed that shakily lifted her hand. I opened the cage and took her out, then closed the door again on my way out. It was quite cruel, but I didn't want any escapees, since I needed all of the 24 slaves to go through the portal in order to reach thirty.

I fed her the potion, and her complexion soon started taking a turn for the better. Under all of the slaves' disbelieving gazes, she stood up and walked towards the rectangular slice of void on her own, then entered it without hesitation. I followed behind her, and chuckled when I saw her look around the field in amazement.

I let her have her moment, then gently asked her to go back out. She seemed a bit dissappointed, but eventually complied.

When they saw her come back out, the apprehension in the slaves' heart lessened considerably, and many volunteered to go next, most likely hoping for some reward. I took note of the people.that volunteered, but told them to wait for a second, since I wanted to try something.

According to [Olden Knowledge], the black 'leeches' on the slaves' souls were Slave Marks, which persisted even if the one who put then on died, since they fed on the soul power of the slaves instead of the caster's, basically causing the slaves small but constant soul strain.

What the leeches did was mark one's status as a slave. [Slavemaster]s could easily sense them, and just as easily attune them with their own soul if they were without an owner. This meant that, even if I set them free, there would always be the chance that they would be caught and sold again as slaves. So, I wanted to see if I could remove them. It was partly out pity and desire to help, and partly out of curiosity.

To be honest, for things like that, this clunky body was nothing but a burden. It was like trying to solve a rubik's cube with huge, woolen mittens on. I didn't even know if I could do it without them, but they just made things much worse.

I would still try, though. My soul was firmly stuck in my core, but as my control over it had getting better thanks to my tireless practice, I could now siphon strands of my soulforce and pass them through my mana channels and to the exterior. Mana actually seemed to be good insulation, protecting my fragile soulforce from the physical world.

I told the girl about what I was going to do, then carefully extended my soulforce out through my mana channels. But, as soon as it exited my body, since I couldn't control Mana outside of it, it started to dissipate.

I tried expelling Mana along with the soulforce, but since I couldn't control it, the Mana just ended up dispersing. I tried to control it, I really tried, but I just couldn't–

Through your own efforts, you have acquired the Mana Manipulation Skill!

You can now control Mana outside of your body. You can now learn Spell-type Skills, and other Skills that require external control of mana. When controlling your own Mana outside your body, a portion will constantly get dispersed into the environment. Prolonged control will cause headaches. You can control ambient mana in minimal levels. If you actively pull ambient mana inside yourself, you will temporarily improve your mana regeneration.

I pushed several tendrils of soulforce protected by Mana outside of my body, and I found I could do it just fine now.

'That's... convenient.'