Lucas awoke in the fading light of evening to find his grandfather absent. Stretching his small limbs, he slipped out of the room and wandered down to the inn's dining area. The warm scent of cooking food greeted him, and the place bustled with patrons enjoying their meals. At the counter stood a large, cheerful woman serving dishes to a group of men.

Lucas approached her and asked gently, "Excuse me, lady, have you seen my grandfather?"

The innkeeper, with her broad smile, turned to him and said, "Oh, your grandpa? He's been out since noon, young one. Don't you worry, he'll be back soon enough. Would you like something to eat in the meantime? I can have it ready in a flash."

Her voice was soft, surprisingly tender, given her imposing appearance. Lucas was about to decline when two girls, one around twenty and the other close to his age, burst from the kitchen. The older one eyed him with curiosity and a teasing smile.

"Mama, who's this cute boy?" she asked.

The innkeeper waved her hand dismissively. "He's the grandson of that old man staying here. Now back to the kitchen with you, both of you!"

Before the younger girl could speak, the innkeeper grabbed both girls by the ear and dragged them back into the kitchen. Lucas could hear her scolding them as the door swung shut.

"How many times have I told you girls not to come out here? There are drunken men about, and your father isn't around!" the innkeeper yelled.

"But Mama, we just wanted to say hello to the cute boy!" one of the girls protested.

Moments later, the innkeeper returned, setting down a steaming bowl of porridge in front of Lucas with a smile. "The girls like you, handsome boy. Now, eat up!"

Before Lucas could respond, she hurried off, leaving him at the table. Through the crack of the kitchen door, he saw both girls peeking out at him, giggling. Shaking his head, he dug into the meal, spooning the warm porridge into his mouth. It was surprisingly delicious, the rich flavor of spices and herbs soothing after the long day.

Just as he finished, his grandfather, Silas, arrived.

"Good, you're having dinner," Silas said approvingly.

Lucas looked up and asked, "Where were you, Grandpa?"

Silas sat down, his face unreadable. "I had to meet someone important." His tone didn't invite further questions, and Lucas knew better than to press him. Some things his grandfather wasn't ready to explain, and he wouldn't force the issue.

The innkeeper called from across the room, "What'll it be for you, sir?"

"Just one ale," Silas replied, waving her off.

Lucas quickly finished his meal, and after Silas paid the coins, they left the inn and ventured into the streets of Almera. They passed through the prosperous part of the city, where the streets were lined with merchants and lanterns, but it wasn't long before they reached the slums. Here, the air was thick with the stench of filth, and the distant cries of the downtrodden echoed through the narrow alleys.

Lucas wrinkled his nose at the foul smell of human waste and rotting food. "Grandpa, where's the black market? I don't see anyone."

Silas glanced down at him and said calmly, "We're almost there. Just a little farther."

They turned a corner into a shadowed alley, and the world around them seemed to close in, the sounds of the bustling city fading behind them. Ahead, shadowy figures emerged, their presence ominous. Some carried daggers, others swords. Their eyes gleamed with power, and Lucas felt the tension tighten in his chest.

His AI, ever silent since their arrival in this world, remained unresponsive. Frustrated, Lucas muttered, "How many are there? How strong?"

The same cold response came, lacking the clarity he needed:

Please find a power source. Not enough energy for computations or communications.

He cursed inwardly. The AI, his golden finger in this new world, had been practically useless. Since his transmigration, he had felt like a passenger in his own life. Though he was smart, he was also painfully aware of the limitations of his current six-year-old body. There was little he could do now.

Silas, sensing Lucas's internal struggle, squeezed his shoulder gently. "Stay calm," he said softly, before stepping forward.

One of the men, a burly figure with a scar across his face, stepped closer, his dagger flashing in the dim light. "State your business," he growled, his tone dripping with menace.

Without hesitation, Silas spoke firmly, "In shadow, we prosper."

At those words, the men melted back into the darkness, disappearing as if they had never been there. Ahead, a heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing a passageway leading down. As the door opened, the sound of lively chatter and bustling crowds filled the alley, and Lucas realized there had been a soundproofing spell over the entrance. Beyond the door, the black market lay, teeming with activity.

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Lucas stared in awe, his heart racing with excitement and fear. Silas led the way, and as they stepped through the threshold, Lucas knew they were entering a world far more dangerous and secretive than he had ever imagined.

Lucas and his grandfather stepped through the entrance of the black market, a world hidden beneath the city's shadows. Inside, the atmosphere was starkly different from what Lucas had expected. The shops were grand and sprawling, their interiors brightly lit and meticulously organized. Many shopkeepers wore the same brooches as Silas—marking their association with the prestigious Felmora Magic Association.

There were stores selling rare magical items, exotic herbs, and ingredients from strange creatures. Shelves stacked high with books on ancient spells, rituals, and knowledge that could change a mage's life forever. It felt more like a place of power than the dark, secretive market he had envisioned. But as they ventured deeper, the sinister side of the black market revealed itself.

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To his right, Lucas heard a burly man shouting. "Healthy men from Casendia Kingdom! Slaves for sale, with collars to ensure loyalty! They won't disobey!" Lucas's heart sank as he saw the rows of broken men, shackled and bound, their spirits crushed.

Further down the street, a group of women, nude and frightened, were on display, as merchants tried to entice passersby. "Noble girls from Casendia, my lord! They've fallen from their families and territories—yours for an affordable price! Please, sir, visit our establishment for a private showing."

Lucas's stomach churned at the sight. He turned his gaze away, unwilling to witness any more of the marketplace's cruel reality. "Is this what people become for a few coins?" he thought bitterly. In the end, humans could become far worse than beasts. Though disgusted, he knew he couldn't act now. He had no power. Not yet.

Lost in thought, Lucas fell slightly behind. Silas, noticing his grandson's absence, looked back and called softly, "Come along, Lucas. We're almost there."

They moved toward a rundown shop at the edge of the market. To Lucas's eyes, it looked abandoned. "This place looks closed, Grandpa," Lucas said, confused.

Silas smiled knowingly. "Not from the front, it isn't." He led Lucas around to the back of the building, where a weathered door stood hidden in the shadows. Silas pushed the door open, and immediately, a sultry voice echoed from within.

"Who's there?" came the sound of a woman's voice, low and teasing.

Silas grinned. "Marona, I thought you'd be waiting for me with open arms after receiving my letter."

The door swung open, revealing a woman in her forties, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. She smirked at Silas, her eyes glinting with a mixture of amusement and familiarity.

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"You sly old fox," Marona teased, stepping aside to let them in. The interior was clean and spacious—completely opposite from the shop's dilapidated exterior.

"So," Marona said, eyeing Lucas, "this must be the grandson you were talking about." Her gaze lingered on Lucas, sizing him up.

Silas nodded with pride. "Yes. And it's for him that I'm taking these risks."

Marona chuckled, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "What's so special about him, Silas? Is he really worth all this trouble?"

Silas laughed heartily. "He's my grandson, for one. And if we waited another four years, his mana seed would have awakened naturally. But I've learned the hard way that, in the grand scheme of things, the younger you awaken, the better your chances for higher ascension."

Marona's playful demeanor faltered for a moment, sadness flickering in her eyes. "I can't argue with that," she said softly. "We've both seen what happens when time runs out."

Silas glanced at Lucas and nodded toward Marona. "Lucas, let me introduce you. Marona was a junior of mine at Felmora Magic Academy."

Lucas hesitated, his mind swirling with questions. "How…how is that possible?" he stammered, unsure how to phrase his thoughts.

Before Silas could answer, Marona stepped in with a smile. "I've awakened and connected all seven chakra points in my mana heart. I'm what they call an Intermediate Apprentice. Your grandfather, on the other hand, is still a Novice Apprentice." Her voice was teasing, but there was affection in her tone.

Silas, with a grin, replied, "I have my reasons for staying a Novice Apprentice, but I'll have you know I was always the smarter one."

Marona flicked her hand dismissively. "Sure, sure, Senior Silas. You were a handsome devil back in the day."

Silas chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. "Well, maybe beneath these old bones, you'll still find a charming, handsome man."

They both laughed, their shared history palpable. But Lucas remained silent, his thoughts elsewhere. After a moment, he spoke, his voice heavy with emotion. "How much time do you have left, Grandpa?"

The playful atmosphere shifted immediately, tension hanging in the air. Silas sighed deeply, his gaze somber. "Ten years. Fifteen, at best."

Lucas felt a lump rise in his throat. "Why can't you ascend like Marona? You could extend your life."

Silas looked down at him, his expression gentle but resigned. "My body's vitality is gone, Lucas. I have no strength left for ascension. If I tried, I'd die."

Lucas's eyes filled with unshed tears. He looked to Marona, who offered a soft smile. "Cheer up, Lucas," she said, her tone light. "Fifteen years is more than enough for this old man to drive you mad. Besides, I can't ascend any further myself. I'm going to enjoy my last hundred years gambling and drinking."

Lucas managed a weak smile, but the weight of the conversation still lingered. For a moment, the room was silent.

Finally, Silas cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "So, do you have what I need?"

Marona nodded, walking over to a chest and pulling out several items. "Here's the mana seed awakening potion, the Night Slugworm, a mana heart from a low-level magical beast, and some vitality herbs."

Silas took the items, gratitude in his voice. "Thank you, Marona. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this."

Marona waved him off, her smile returning. "Oh, don't thank me just yet. You can thank me by paying 25 mana stones." She laughed playfully, but Lucas's jaw nearly dropped. He knew how valuable a single mana stone was. They'd used just one to travel miles on a griffin!

Without hesitation, Silas handed over the stones, knowing Marona had already done more than enough for him. He then said, "In 15 days, I'll need your help with Lucas's awakening ceremony. I trust I can count on you?"

Marona nodded with a mischievous smile. "Anytime, Senior. You know I can't resist being part of something this important."

After exchanging a few more memories from the past, Silas and Lucas left the black market, their minds full. Lucas, lost in thought about the awakening ceremony and his grandfather's fate, barely noticed the passage of time. The weight of the future pressed on him, but exhaustion soon overtook him, and as soon as they returned to the inn, Lucas collapsed into bed, his mind racing with the possibilities—and the challenges—that lay ahead.