Alastor chuckled too, talking before Severine did. “Of course,” he said, “It’s not everyday that you get to see an elf battling to the death. They’re rare goods, after all. Costly ones. Only Savva would do something so extravagant.” He patted Raven on the shoulder. “But still, don’t get that excited, you three. You’re embarrassing us.”

Raven nodded, adjusting her expression. Because the mask covered everything but her eyes, her expression looked much calmer within seconds. The other two seemed to also get the message, for they too seemed much more subdued.

The manager guided them to an empty table and gestured for them to sit down. Then, the manager left, walking towards the metal cage, the very center of the dome. Alastor let his gaze wander after doing as prompted, making note of his surroundings. Most of the occupants of the other tables only wore masquerade masks, but a few also donned full face masks like them.

“Chaos, enter stat scanner.” Alastor ordered.

Shifting To Stat Scanner… Activated.

Translucent blue boxes appeared over everyone’s head and listed their current strength. Alastor skimmed his gaze over the people present in the huge dome, pausing at the two hooded men present on either side of the cage.

They were the strongest, an advanced mage and warrior. Although Severine was a half step archmage, a rank higher than the advanced mage, there was a chance she’d have some trouble if attacked by both of them simultaneously.

He used his mana speech to ask Severine, The strongest are an advanced mage and a warrior. The ones side by side to the cage. Are you confident you can handle them?

Severine didn’t seem particularly phased by the fact that Alastor was able to scope out the entire place within seconds. It was usually only an ability particularly strong advanced mages had, yet Alastor, who was not even an elementary mage yet, was able to do it with ease.

She took a second to consider before replying, I can probably handle all these bugs with a single large scale spell. However, she paused and sighed, it will take a relatively long time for me to gather the mana and unleash the spell without being detected by the advanced mage.

How long? Alastor asked.

Severine leaned onto the table, tilting her head ever so slightly. Ten minutes, probably. All of these people will also turn into dust. I hope that’s not a problem.

Eh, Alastor grunted, I can work with it. Ten minutes it is. How much gold do you have in your reserves, again?

A lot. Severine replied. Enough to sustain any of your schemes, at least. Probably enough to fund this kingdom for a year or two.

You’ve been busy, I see. Alastor quipped.

Severine didn’t bother replying to his joke even after a few seconds passed, so Alastor leaned forward, his fingers coming to rest upon the delicate manastone nestled at the very center of the table. The manastone pulsed beneath his touch. He had to admit – he was already really enjoying what he was about to do. He’d always either killed or blackmailed, so to squander money, to be able to make purchases left and right, knowing he had an endless reserve of money behind him was… addicting. And he’d not even started yet.

Well, at least now he knew why the rich were always such spendthrifts.

With gentle, but purposeful double taps, the manastone transformed, the once-cerulean light deepening into a hue as rich and forbidding as freshly spilled blood.

The change did not go unnoticed. From the corner of the room, a tall, slender figure emerged, gliding effortlessly across the polished floors, his black tuxedo fitting him quite well. His face was obscured by a black masquerade mask, the silver gilded edges gleaming in the light.

"What seems to be the problem, dear patrons?" He inquired smoothly. Then, as if he could guess what they were about to ask in advance, he continued, “The auction will start in exactly an hour. Savva apologizes for the delay, and the inconvenience caused. All food shall be free till then, of course.”

"I have grown tired of waiting," Alastor replied, his voice uncharacteristically regal and cold. "I wish to buy all the slaves scheduled for the dome and proceed directly to the auction."

The man's eyebrows, visible above his mask, arched in surprise, a flicker of hesitation crossing his otherwise impassive face. "Sir, I... I am unsure if such a request can be accommodated." His words hung in the air delicately, and Alastor could sense the nervousness the man was feeling – any patron who could order for something like that was either very rich, or very powerful, or both at the same time.

Offending such people never went well.

It was then that Severine leaned forward, her presence finally attracting the man’s attention. Her eyes flashed with a seemingly mocking gleam as she produced her black card once more.

"Perhaps this will change your mind," she whispered, almost like she was singing a lullaby.

My god. Severine is amazing. Alastor couldn’t help but cheer. She works with my timing perfectly! Even Raven wasn’t so in sync with me – though that was because she was mostly deadly afraid of me in the later resets.

The sight of the black card seemed to drain the color from the waiter's face further. That surprised Alastor – he thought the manager would flag the tables with VIP cards, preventing the waiters or staff from offending them in advance? Or perhaps the manager was that confident in his underlings’ skills, confident that they’d not offend any noble, and thus found such measures to be unnecessary?

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"I… I see. My apologies, my dearest patrons. I shall pass your request onto the higher ups. Your request shall definitely be granted," he murmured, offering a deep bow before hurrying away.

Alastor immediately summoned his magic parchment once more, itching to check his points. He was sure it probably only increased by one or two, or none, if he was particularly unlucky, especially since he had established he was merciful already to Raven and Severine – saving a few more slaves probably wouldn’t make them gain a renewed sense of appreciation for him. What he wanted to check, however, was whether the other two, Severine’s disciples, had given him any points.

And they did.

36

Alastor stared at the points blankly, his heart speeding up. Well, figuratively. His heart had crossed the point of being able to speed up, even if clouds suddenly turned into cotton candy. Actually, his heart might actually speed up if clouds turned into cotton candy. He really liked cotton candy.

But he digressed. There was no way Severine and Raven, even both combined, were giving him ten points just because he decided to buy all the slaves. Severine and Raven should already be somewhat numb to him doing something like this – he’d just bought the orphans like a few hours ago. One or two points, maybe. Ten? No way.

This basically confirmed what he’d hoped – even minor characters, considering he’d never heard of Severine’s disciples – most likely granted him reputation points. He had to try this when he was alone with some minor NPC just to fully confirm it, but he was pretty sure that was the case by now.

Alastor licked his lower lip, excitement coursing through his veins. Things were getting interesting. Reallllly interesting. All he had to confirm now was whether minor NPCs gave him points if he evoked positive emotions while he was in alter personas – he was rather confident that was the case too. This opened up infinite possibilities.

Truly infinite.

Suddenly, the cage at the center shook. A murmur of anticipation filled the grand hall as the circular metal cage began a slow descent, vanishing into a newly opened chasm below it. Heavy chains rattled and groaned as they bore the weight of the cage, winding their way into the unseen depths of the dome.

Replacing it, once the cage fully vanished, a wooden platform rose into view. The wood was dark, almost black, yet it gleamed with a polished sheen that spoke of loving care. Its somewhat visible signs of age only added to its grandeur.

Ornate carvings depicting ancient legends and fearsome creatures adorned its sides. As Alastor leant closer, he could make out most of what was etched onto it – dragons and serpents entwined in battles, their snarling jaws and deadly claws poised to strike, the figures of hooded beings, stabbing a man on a throne... the carvings were endless.

My god, I still vaguely remember being morbidly amazed by this wooden platform all the way back in my second run. Alastor smiled. Those were fun times. Well, kinda.

A man clad in ostentatious finery emerged from seemingly nowhere onto the platform, a smile playing on his lips as he surveyed the rapt audience. He was tall and slender – a feature common to all of Savva’s staff – and he carried himself with an air of undeniable authority. As he stepped forward, his silk robe billowed about him like the vibrant plumage of some exotic bird.

"Ladies and gentlemen, lords and lordesses!" the announcer boomed, his voice resonant and theatrical. "I am pleased to inform you that, thanks to the immense generosity of a most esteemed VIP, our auction has been brought forward!” And then, as if predicting the scruples some of the patrons may have, he continued, “Naturally, all of the patrons who’ve shown interest for today’s auction have been sent teleport tickets for tomorrow’s auction along with letters of apology!”

This is… new. Alastor couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows. It isn’t that unnatural to bring forward auctions on the request of VIPs, but those are usually only for relatively unpopular ones. This one seems to be a bit popular – the dome is sparsely filled. Is there perhaps something special with Severine’s card that I didn’t notice?

He leant forward, placing his elbows on the table. Then again, I’ve not really ever asked for auctions to be brought forward. I usually just go for the kill. Maybe this is just standard procedure?

Alastor couldn’t help but tut lightly. It seems VIP’s are treated with greater respect than I had previously thought. To be fair, any entity that can be called a VIP is undoubtedly at the very least a duke, if not supported by a duke. So. The nobles wouldn’t want to offend such a VIP either – they wouldn’t find trouble with Savva for this.

The words had barely left the announcer’s lips when the hall erupted into applause and shouts of joy. Battles were boring, after all, and if whoever missed this was going to be compensated… It was time to enjoy the auction fully. Glasses were raised in toast, and the tables became swirls of colors as everyone tapped the manastones at the center of their tables once. Tiny translucent screens popped up at the center of all the tables- this was but standard procedure. They had to examine their products, after all.

"Patrons," a waiter called out, and Alastor turned towards the source of the voice – a waiter standing behind them. Raven and Severine’s disciples seemed surprised by the waiter’s ‘sudden’ appearance – which was pretty standard for them by now – but Alastor and Severine were unfazed, of course.

Bowing low, he placed a box at their table – a storage box. “Here are the slaves you've bought. We hope Savva’s service satisfies you, dear patrons.”

Alastor nodded to him, but before he could see the waiter's response, the sound of grinding stone echoed through the dome. An eerie quality present to it that seemed to drive the crowd even wilder. Suddenly, with a great burst of smoke and steam, another hole opened up behind the announcer, the edges of the opening crackling with a soothing, blue light.

With great flourish, the announcer gestured towards the chasm as a small, human size cage was drawn up from below. The cage was shiny and new, glimmering in the blue light, making it look like a treasure that had just been excavated.

In this new cage stood a nude human woman. She was tall and graceful, her long dark blue hair cascading down her back in waves. Her skin, kissed by the sun, was a stark contrast to the pallor slaves usually had. Or atleast, normal cheap slaves, ones you could get in the true ‘black market’. Savva slaves were naturally a different class in terms of quality. Her eyes, the color of a storm-tossed sea, were dull and clouded, making quite a contrast.

As the clamor reached a fevered pitch, the announcer lifted his hands, beseeching the audience for silence. Gradually, the chatter died down, and all eyes turned to him once more.

"Allow me to introduce our first exquisite product for this evening's auction," he said, his voice dripping with pride. "This woman is a fallen noble! She is, of course,” he slammed the cage suddenly, but the woman didn’t even flinch, “completely mentally broken. But, she is sentient. She will naturally respond to your words and react to pain! Dearest patrons, if you’re into it, you could even get her healed by a mage! A rather easy process for a mage specializing in the mental arts, if I do say so myself, and then have your fun breaking her all over again.”

With a theatrical flourish, he spread his arms wide before clicking his fingers, and the cage opened – the woman in the cage took a step forward obediently. She lowered her head, her hair cascading over her shoulders.

“Let the bids begin! The starting price is three gold coins!”