[So, how do you feel after getting scammed?]

A blue window appeared while he passed a group of guard patrol. The streets were unusually crowded after several hours had passed from the unexpected explosion near their city. Despite of the streets being crowded, there was a significant difference: there were no children in sight.

[“Nothing. Am I supposed to feel anything from it?”] he replied inwardly.

[You should. You don’t feel angry? What about being disappointed in yourself since she managed to trick you? Do you feel useless?]

His usual passive expression was all the system needed as an answer.

[Really, Host? You don’t feel any speck of emotions after that insolent woman scammed you?]

He responded with a deadpan stare before continuing to walk, stopping briefly to consult the map. Emerging from a bustling business street, he arrived at a serene town center—a circular haven of trees and greenery amidst the hard structures and seemingly nonstop activity.

His eyes were drawn to a towering monument that loomed majestically before him, its stone surface glistening in the sunlight. The statue depicted a heroic figure, a man gripping a spear in a triumphant stance, embodying strength and valor. It was someone he knew well: the Hero.

As soon as he realized the monument’s impressive height, his entire demeanor changed drastically to one of unnerving happiness. He could hardly contain his excitement and the newfound energy surging through his entire body.

“Ah, look at that… so perfect…” he muttered breathlessly, smiling in awe at the monument.

[No, Host, don’t. Please. You already accepted the quest.]

He made a disgusted expression, brows knitting together as a low curse slipped through his lips, barely audible but full of frustration.

Begrudgingly he ignored the system, but did not make another attempt to end his life. Reluctantly he marched on, yet his steps heavy as if he was dragging a huge shackle behind him. Occasionally he stopped to laid his gaze back to the monument, longing clearly visible on his face.

His feet led him to a commercial area. The bustling stores and the chatter of people created a beautiful melody, while the scent of freshly baked goods filled the air, tantalizing his taste buds. Although this commercial area was not as grand as the noble business district he had visited earlier, its appearance still conveyed a sense of class, catering to wealthy lower-class nobles and merchants. The road was paved with cobblestone, and most of the stores were established buildings rather than stalls.

[“Nothing has changed.”]

[What do you mean, Host?]

[“…all of this. Nothing has changed. The architectures, the attires. I can’t speak much about the technologies since I have only seen one so far—that copy sphere. Isn’t it strange that after 600 years, nothing feels different?”]

As he spoke, he noticed a skewer stand and ordered several for thirty copper coins.

[“Copper, silver, gold—still no sign of platinum. The currency hasn’t changed either, just become more expensive than it used to be.]

He chomped on the treats. The taste was so-so.

[Anyway, good job for completing the quest! I deposited the gold in your inventory! Make sure to use it wisely!]

The further he walked from the city center, the more guards he saw patrolling the area, along with simpler buildings. He checked his map again to confirm he was heading in the right direction, and indeed, he was.

Area exclusive for commoners, huh?

The sound of a whip crackling in the air made him stop and turn his head. The sight before him made his eyebrows arched. Several ragged-looking elves in underwear were forced to carry a heavy burden by their captor, his eyes scanning the chaotic activities around them with a watchful intensity. Every so often he would crack his whip against the ground to hasten their pace amidst the atmosphere of oppression.

The scene before him was truly upsetting, yet no one seemed to bat an eye as if they were used to this treatment.

Zalstrahvi held the urge to laugh at the pitiful scene. Humans who vehemently challenged his supremacy to free the war prisoners and preached justice and freedom to every race… now behaved just like the demon race back then by enslaving other races for their own benefits!

This is fun! This is what I call FUN!!

“Move, yeh tree-hugging swine!!” the fat owner smashed his whip against the cobblestone. To a normal person, the sound was merely an unpleasant and loud disturbance every now and then, but for the elf slaves, it was the sound of nightmare and hell.

“Werk faster!! We need to finish loading all dah items before dusk!!”

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Zalstrahvi observed the slaves' condition. Most of them were thin, a stark contrast to the dark elf he saw in the market, probably due to malnutrition, and the dark circles under their eyes signified a lack of sleep. Despite their disadvantages, however, they managed to lift items way beyond their body mass.

“…!!”

The Eyes of Truth showed something interesting amongst the slaves. There, trudging behind while carrying a cauldron, was a blonde-haired human woman. She was similar in appearance to the rest of the slaves, unkempt and malnourished, yet the window above her head when he inspected her caught his interest.

[[Name: Lilia (Real name: Vanariel)

Race: Fallen Angel

Status: Cursed, Malnourished, Weak]]

He smiled—not a friendly one, but a smile with a touch of madness.

[Uh, Host, your expression… Don’t tell me you’re…]

“Excuse me, good sir,” he approached the fat man, who turned around looking agitated that his work was interrupted.

“What yeh want?! I got werk to do!”

Zalstrahvi smiled, yet there was no sincerity in his eyes. “Pardon for intruding, sir. I’m merely a humble man who hasn’t seen any elves before.”

At the mention of his property, the fat man smiled ear to ear. “Heheh, of kers yeh haven’t, son. Those tree-huggers rarely left therr forest. As of now, I’m dah only sleiva in this city who ewns and trades deeze lazy bums. Well, not only elves, but also odar races.”

“Are they criminals by any chance?” he inquired again, finding his accent funny.

“Sert of,” the man sighed as he shook his head, “they are young, naïve elves thinking they could maik dah werld a betta place by proselytizing and attempting to convert odars to worship therr tree deity. People got restless, dah temple guards were kolld, and now they are our sleivs.”

…tree deity? Could it be Eluvrata the Nature Goddess?

“Please forgive me if I come off as impolite, but…” he said, leaning slightly closer to the man, his voice dropping to a whisper, “how much is one?”

“Depends on dah sleiv themselves, son. Who suits yer fancy?” he took a book and a pencil from his waist pocket, probably containing slave price or something similar.

Zalstrahvi pointed at a skinny blonde woman carrying a huge cauldron. Her lips were cracked, her eyes empty as if they were hollow husks with no soul inside, and her overall complexion was deathly pale and sickly.

The fat slaver blinked in disbelief, shifting his green eyes to the slave and then the buyer repeatedly. “Yeh sure yeh want that one? I’m telling yeh to reconsidar since there’s a reason why she doesn’t sell. We have healthy human sleivs inside that moit interest yeh.”

“No, it’s okay. I still want her.”

The fat man groaned, scratching his temple with the back of his pencil, and quickly opened his book to a certain page, “I warned yeh, okay? That one is kolld Lilia, thirty-two yiirs old, birthplace unknown. I found her deposited on dah back door of my werk place with some measly changes looking like that. Don’t know who did that to her. She was badly beaten and, yeh know… that forceful stuff, some of her teeth were broken, and she was cursed.”

He feigned interest, “Cursed?”

“She is blind and mute. Was thinking of getting a kyua for her to increase her productivity, but it’s too darn expensive so I gave up on that.”

“If she is blind and mute, then why is she outside working?”

The fat man shrugged, “I know yeh won’t believe me, son. She wanted to werk, that girl. I told her that she won’t get anything done with that kind of body and she should just clean dah place or sumthing but therr she is. Surprisingly she can werk. I guess her ears are pretty sharp, yeh know… she could tell this and that.”

“I see. I still want to buy her.”

The fat man observed the determination in his eyes and sighed in defeat. “Olrit, I’ll sell her if yeh insist. But I already warned yeh, so I won’t accept any return tomorrow or anodar tomorrow! Law said yeh gotta ewn her at least three yiirs before returning her.”

“I understand.”

The slaver opened his book again to calculate, “Hmm… I guess I can sell her cheap to yeh, considaring her health condition. Oh, and her age, too. Thirty-two is past dah prime age.”

Zalstrahvi watched the fat man flipping his book back and forth, occasionally pointing at something while mumbling to himself.

“I suppose I can give yeh five silva pieces for her. But just for yeh, I’ll let yeh know dah average proices of sleivs. They range from one gold coin up to ten gold coins, depending on several factors such as appearance, certain body sizes—yeh know what I mean—age, and health. Other factors moit contribute to therr price, but those are trade secrets so I can’t tell yeh.”

“I see. It’s very helpful to hear it straight from the expert. Thank you for the information, sir,” he produced five silver coins from his pocket and handed them over to the slaver with a small smile.

“Oh, and take diz before yeh go…”

The slaver gave him a ring with golden engraving. Times might change, but one thing about buying slaves he knew well remained the same.

…a slaver ring.

“It’s a sleiva ring,” the fat man explained. “Wear it at all times to prevent any accidents! Yeh don’t want to spend more money hunting a runaway sleiv. Trust me! Just because they’re sleivs yeh think they will automatically listen to yeh? No! Diz ring exists for a reason! Some guy back then threw his ring, thinking that his sleivs wouldn’t hurt him. Yiirs later, who attended his funeral? Me.”

He finished it with two chest slaps as if he was proud of himself.

Before Zalstrahvi opened his mouth to speak, the fat man continued, “Let me tell you about how diz ring werk! See the golden engraving? We employed mages to bind protection magic in this ring with dah sleiv mark on therr body. Dah more sleivs yeh have, dah more binding yeh will need to place in dah sleiv ring.”

“Is it similar to registering slaves to this ring, then?”

The fat man’s smile widened, “Exactly, son! Yeh do that so dah protection spell will react to deinja. What about dah sleivs? Dah sleiv mark on therr body will react to dah protection spell and shock them! Bzzzz!”

“Yes, I will always wear it. Thank you for the help.”

“Anytime, son. If yeh need more sleivs, just rememba to send a letter to your friendly neighborhood Uncle Garambel and I will reply faster than yer desire to fart!” he laughed heartily, smacking his own one pack stomach full of fat.

Zalstrahvi let out a small laugh, yet his face remained impassive—devoid of emotions.

What was funny he wondered? How could this man laugh so joyfully at the simplest thing?

“Hey, come here, Lilia!” he shouted at the slave. She slowly turned her head towards the source and approached. As she made her way toward them, other slaves wisely decided to let her pass first or get out of her way due to her circumstances.

“Close enough,” Garambel spoke as a signal for her to stop. “From this point on, yeh don't have to be werking with me."

She looked confused for a moment, before a wave of realization washed over her.

"Meet yer new master. Be good to him now and don’t cause any trouble, yeh hear me?”

She looked like she was about to protest, but she reigned in the thought and carefully placed the cauldron on the ground.

“Right. Come, slave,” Zalstrahvi tugged the leash Garambel fashioned on her, herding her like a lost lamb. Ignoring her distress, he bid farewell to the fat slaver and headed home, delighted with the prospect of devouring a curse and enslaving a heavenly being.