They entered a bustling street full of rich civilians—every single one of them fancier than the next and trying their best to outshine the people next to them. No matter if they were rich merchants, nobles, or mages, the two things they had in common were the gold adorning their bodies and that they were all human, not a single beastkin in sight.

This was a sight exclusive to the noble's district; beastkin weren't all that rare in Deidamia after all. The upper class fully supported an elitist agenda of racial purity. They saw their race, humankind, as superior, and they were the damning reason there were no beastkin amidst the ministers.

Fancy buildings lined the street, golden filigreed in excessive amounts tracing intricate patterns all across the storefronts. Seeming particularly extravagant amongst them, a building larger than the rest drew the eye and dominated the rich pedestrians' – and consequently their – attention.

A majestic sign with the words 'Welcome to Savva!' hung over the building’s entrance.

The hubbub surrounding them faded completely as Severine casually entered the restaurant. The restaurant had this sense of… peace and elegance to it, even Alastor had to admit – there was no noise except for the gentle orchestral music being played, and the waiters and patrons walked in peaceful, languid paces. The four of them continued trailing closely behind Severine – to their credit, all four of them were able to emulate the other patrons’ leisurely gait well enough

They finally came to a stop when the Vice Head reached a table, pulled out a chair for herself and indicated for them to sit down too.

Once they sat down, the Vice Head paid no more attention to them, placing an elbow on the table and resting her cheek on her knuckles.

Silky soft, snow white tablecloths were draped over the sides of the table, looking like they had reached the epitome of quality cloth could possibly reach. A silver candle burned, filling the air with the scent of peace and wealth – which, damn, it was only when he came to places like this did he realize peace and wealth had a scent to it. Magically infused kadupul flowers in silver vases were placed next to the silver candle, lending their credence to the establishment’s reputation for going all out.

The two scents blended in perfect harmony, complimenting the very atmosphere of Savva. It felt just right in a way Alastor was – as usual – impressed by. It wasn’t rare for him to come across places such as this in the countless worlds he’d explored, but hey, Alastor was someone who experienced and appreciated things. He enjoyed the minor things, you know?

Just like how they optimized scent and sound, they optimized sight, too. Manalight filtered down from the ceiling and sidewalls, dimmed low. It soothed his eyes and gave everything an almost filter like look.

A platinum blonde waiter with supermodel looks approached as Alastor examined the place – which, to be fair, he usually didn’t do, so he found things sufficiently new, new enough to attract his interest. Normally, he just went directly into the underground auction ring, destroying everything within with ease…. So this was a nice change of pace, he had to admit.

The blonde waiter was adorned in finery costing as much as any three of the other expensive buildings they had passed on the way to Savva – well, that was a bit of an exaggeration, perhaps, but it wasn’t all that far away from the truth. Savva was the biggest in Deidamia – there were no competitors, none brave enough to compete with the giant.

Rather politely, the waiter addressed them with a soft yet confident voice like honeydew and sunshine. "Dear patrons, this table has already been reserved by someone else. I’m sorry for interrupting, but I must ask if you have a reservation? I’d love to guide you to your proper table. If not, I can find you a table not yet reserved—"

"Call your manager." Severine ordered, perfectly imitating a Karen. Alastor was impressed, he had to admit.

The concerned waiter looked at him blankly for a second before nodding and departing without another word.

Not even a minute passed when a man walked towards them, a serene smile plastered onto his face. He donned a stylish tuxedo, only further enhancing his handsomeness. His blonde hair was lighter than that of the waiter, and it matched his blue eyes perfectly. Wrinkles etched the passing of time on his face, yet they did not dim his looks.

Ah, so this guy is the manager. Alastor realized. No wonder he was always so determined to bother me when I destroyed this branch and killed the patrons of the auction ring.

The waiter tagged along behind him closely, probably remaining in case the tuxedoed man needed him for something. Otherwise, the waiter kept his gaze straightforward, mouth shut, almost blending in with the rest of the extravagance.

"May I know what's the problem, dearest patrons?" he asked, approaching them with a businesslike smile.

Without a word, Severine flashed a black card at the man's face, its smooth, obsidian surface glinting with menace. Alastor stared at the card blankly, mildly surprised. She has a VIP card. Damn, how? How did she even manage to obtain it? Isn’t it notoriously hard to get it? Even I had to blackmail a duke before getting one in the third reset.

Then, he had a sudden realization. Right. This person is a half step archmage, and her master is an archmage. Getting this card from a duke would be like stealing candy from a child. Almost too easy. A slight smile spread over his face. It seems he’d made the right decision to experiment in this run.

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Of course, it didn’t seem like she knew the procedure properly – or she’d just go into the kitchens and show the card. But well, it was fine – she did have a black card, after all. At worst, she’d seem like some powerful and well connected duke’s mistress or concubine, attending Savva’s slave auction for the first time. The manager wouldn’t dare doubt a VIP, after all.

The manager's eyes widened in a brief moment of shock, but his composure quickly returned as he bowed.

“Guide me.” Severine ordered, her tone irrefutable.

"Of course, dearest patron," he murmured, his voice having a slight tremor he was unable to hide. "My apologies if the waiter did anything to anger you. It was not intentional. Please, follow me."

As Alastor followed their guide out of the grand main hall, he couldn't help but feel somewhat satisfied. He’d always resorted to just making a copy of the High Patron card from the fourth reset – it was a step down from the VIP card, but the High Patron card worked just as well. Chaos could make a copy so good it would basically be real, so he never faced problems with that method.

But it felt somewhat satisfying, he had to admit, being able to enter as a VIP, being guided personally by the manager, accompanied by Severine of all people. Perhaps he would forge a VIP card from the next reset – he quite liked the attention, and it was basically the same as forging the High Patron card now that he’d seen it up close.

The corridors that they traversed once they left the main hall were lined with towering marble columns. The columns were adorned with intricate carvings and covered in shimmering gold leaves that glinted in the manalight. The staff they passed paid no mind to the small group, as if they couldn’t see them at all. Perhaps it was because they were being guided by the manager?

Soon, they arrived in front of a gold patterned blue door. The manager finally stopped, touching the door knob and passing a pulse of mana, before opening it. The manager smiled as he beckoned them into the room, a small, private chamber that barely fit all of them. He tugged at a large painting – the only decoration in the room – and passed another pulse of mana. He then pulled it aside, revealing a narrow door hidden beneath.

"This way, dear patrons," he crooned, before stepping in.

Alastor was mildly surprised as they followed him in single file – he didn’t know he could enter the kitchen through this way. He usually just used the general lift. Was the manager not taking them through that way since they were VIP patrons who clearly desired privacy with the way they dressed?

The scent of roasting meat and sizzling oil grew stronger with each step, filling their nostrils with a tantalizing aroma that made their mouths water. Hell, even Alastor, his sense of satiety deadened long ago, after he ate a legendary dragon – since he could literally find nothing tastier than it – felt tempted to eat. Just not Savva’s stuff, but instead the dragon bbq once more.

The staircase seemed to go on forever, twisting and turning with no end in sight, until finally, with one last twisty turn, they found themselves at the entrance to the cooking room.

Chefs in white coats darted back and forth within, wielding knives and spatulas with lightning-fast precision. Some were tending to giant cauldrons of bubbling broth, while others were carefully plating intricate dishes with delicate garnishes. But despite the frenzied activity, there was an air of controlled chaos about the place, as if everyone had a specific role to play and knew exactly what they were doing.

The chefs, too, avoided looking at the group, and within seconds, they reached a black door at the very end of the room. Alastor licked his lower lip – finally, they were getting close to their destination. He turned towards Raven, his eyes slightly narrowed. She’s always greatly affected by what happens inside. But well, I guess it is inevitable.

The manager stepped forward and rapped on the door in a distinct pattern. A second passed, and the doors creaked open – revealing a pale black barrier like substance. The manager stepped into it, passing through smoothly.

Finally, Alastor couldn’t help but remark in his mind. This felt so much longer than the lift. The lift is here in like… seconds. Those steps though, goodness. They felt endless. Then again, perhaps it’s having companions that made it feel longer?

And as they passed through the barrier, they were exposed to one of Savva’s daily slave auctions. A giant dome made out of solid metal was what they stood inside, well distanced tables stretching over its landscape. A giant circular metal cage in the very center – where all the ‘fun’ would happen.

Everything from the tables to the teacups and saucers on the tables reflected the sentiment of the upstairs dining halls, the very definition of extravagant expenditure. All were made out of solid gold. Which, really? Gold?

A giant mana stone rested in the very center of each table, providing the customers with the convenient option of summoning a mini screen to watch the battle happening within the giant cage. Translucent black screens, made purely out of mana, also hovered above the cage, displaying the barbaric battle currently occurring beneath in high definition.

An elf fought against a catkin, wounds littering both their bodies. Even though blood covered both their naked bodies, they still fought desperately, writhing in pain at every blow they managed to land at each other. Blood leaked out from the corners of their bloodshot eyes. Their irises glowed a vibrant red, indicating the magically induced crazed state they were in.

All traces of intelligence had long been lost. They were nothing but beasts at this point – which probably made the nobles feel pleased to witness – but unlike beasts, they didn’t fight to satisfy their primal desires. They had nothing to gain from their spilled blood, no rewards for the victor, not even the allure of freedom.

Theirs was a battle for sport, entertainment for those that could afford entry.

The sparse audience present showed varying reactions. Some seemed interested, some amused, and some were just plain bored. Battles were only interesting for so long before they got boring. Even for these lazy upper class audiences, watching the same thing repeatedly would eventually get boring.

One of the masked ladies near them even yawned, sipping from her teacup in an attempt to alleviate her boredom.

The blood sport wasn’t the main attraction, and many of those around the room just wanted to get on to the auction, to bolster the number of slaves they owned or possibly find something exotic to add to their collections. Breaking new slaves was always a fun pastime, after all, one that would take the biting edge of monotony from day to day dealings away for a brief, enjoyable amount of time.

The manager, noticing the group’s wide eyes, chuckled, “You all seem to be connoisseurs. You’re really enjoying the battle.”

Alastor looked at his companions, to realize that all of them, except for Severine, were wide eyed.

Fuck. Alastor couldn’t help but curse. Seriously, why the fuck are even the ones Severine chose acting so unprofessionally?