In the world where Madara had appeared, slavery was not only legal but deeply woven into the fabric of society. It was a harsh, ugly truth that defined the lives of many, particularly the demi-human races.
Humans, who held power in this land, treated demi-humans, those with animal-like features such as cat ears, dog tails, or bunny noses, as lesser beings.
Discrimination was constant and cruel. Every chance they got, humans spat insults, calling demi-humans inferior, claiming they were born to serve as slaves.
The belief was so widespread that it was rarely questioned, accepted as a natural order by those in power.
Laws came and went, rulers rose and fell, but the slave system remained unshaken. If anything, it grew worse with time.
Human raiders targeted demi-human villages with ruthless efficiency, attacking under the cover of night or in broad daylight.
They burned homes, slaughtered the elderly or sickly who were deemed useless, and captured the young and strong.
These captives were bound in chains, their spirits crushed, and sold to the highest bidders.
The raids were not just acts of greed but a way for humans to assert dominance, ensuring demi-humans lived in constant fear.
Among the wealthy, especially nobles and their spoiled children, demi-human slaves were treated as little more than decorations.
They were paraded like trophies, dressed in tattered rags or gaudy outfits to suit their owners' whims. For many nobles, owning a demi-human was a status symbol, a way to flaunt their wealth and power.
But the cruelty didn't stop there. Some used their slaves to satisfy twisted desires, forcing them into degrading acts or indulging in sick fetishes like beating them until they bled.
Others committed unspeakable atrocities, acts so vile they were whispered about in dark corners.
To these nobles, demi-humans were not people but objects, disposable and replaceable.
The slave trade was a thriving business, a dark undercurrent that ran through every city and town.
Slave merchants were everywhere, their stalls and shops hidden in plain sight.
If you knew where to look, down a shadowy alley, behind a bustling market, or in the back rooms of taverns, you could find them.
They operated openly, their wares displayed in cages or chained to posts, while buyers haggled over prices as if purchasing livestock.
The demand for demi-human slaves was endless, fueled by greed and cruelty, making the trade one of the most profitable ventures in this world.
This was the reality Madara had stepped into, a world where the strong preyed on the weak without remorse, and the cries of the enslaved went unheard.
….
Xx place: Slave merchant:-
A dimly lit room in one of the less reputable corners of the town where Madara and the demi-human children were staying at the inn.
The room, though brighter than the shadowy alleys outside, was far from pleasant. Its walls were stained with grime, the air heavy with the smell of stale wine and sweat.
At a cluttered wooden table sat a heavyset man, his round face flushed as he sipped from a wine glass. Papers were scattered before him, each one detailing orders and transactions.
His eyes scanned them with growing frustration. One particular order, from a powerful noble, demanded young demi-human slaves, a request he couldn't fulfill at the moment.
While his stock of slaves was plentiful, he had no young demi-humans, the kind the noble specifically wanted.
The man had been counting on bandits or rogue traders to bring him fresh demi-human captives.
His plan was simple: buy them cheap, then sell them to the noble at an outrageous price, pocketing a hefty profit.
But the noble's deadline was today, and time was running out. If he failed to deliver, the consequences would be dire, not just for his business, but for his own safety.
Nobles in this world didn't take kindly to disappointment, and their wrath could ruin him.
Cursing under his breath, the man slammed his wine glass onto the table, the liquid sloshing over the rim.
"Damn it all!" he growled, his voice thick with anger. He reached for a leather whip resting beside the table, its handle worn from frequent use.
His eyes darted to the corner of the room, where a demi-human woman knelt, her body trembling. She was completely naked, her wrists bound by a leash tied to a metal ring in the wall, forcing her to stay low like a dog. Bruises and welts marked her skin, evidence of past beatings.
The man stormed over, his face twisted with rage. Without a word, he raised the whip and brought it down on her, the crack echoing in the small room.
Again and again, he struck her, each lash fueled by his frustration. "Useless filth!" he shouted, spitting curses with every swing.
"Why can't I get what I need?!" Beating the demi-human gave him a twisted sense of calm, a way to vent his anger.
To him, and to many humans in this world, demi-humans were less than nothing, mere objects to be used and discarded.
The woman's pained whimpers filled the room, but he didn't stop. When he finally paused, panting from the effort, his mood shifted to something darker.
He tossed the whip aside and began to unbuckle his belt, his fingers fumbling with the clasp.
"Get over here," he snarled at the battered woman.
"You're gonna make yourself useful and suck me off." His voice was thick with cruel intent, his eyes gleaming with sick desire.
But just as he was halfway through unbuckling his pants, a sharp knock sounded at the door.
The man froze, his face reddening with irritation. Muttering another curse, he quickly buckled his pants, the clasp clicking back into place.
He grabbed the whip and lashed the woman one final time, the strike drawing a fresh cry from her lips.
Breathing heavily, he returned to his chair, slumping into it as he tried to compose himself.
He took a deep breath, forcing a calm expression, and called out, "Come in!" His voice carried a false politeness, masking the storm of anger and frustration still raging within him.
The door creaked open, and a wiry man stepped into the dimly lit room. He was one of the fat man's lackeys, tasked with scouring the town for any leads on young demi-human girls to fulfill the noble's urgent order.
His face was tense but eager, clearly bearing news.
The fat man, still seated at his cluttered table, leaned forward, his wine glass forgotten as he fixed his gaze on the newcomer.
"Speak," he barked, his voice sharp with anticipation.
The lackey nodded quickly, wasting no time. "Boss, I got something," he said, his words tumbling out.
"There's this Young guy who just showed up in town. He's got a few young demi-human girls with him, cat ears, dog tails, bunny features, the works. They're not slaves, though. Their clothes are torn, like they've been through something rough, but they're still in good shape. I've been watching the inn where they're staying for a while now."
He paused, glancing at the fat man to gauge his reaction before continuing. "Those girls are perfect for the noble's order. Their faces and bodies are still… well, you know, in great condition. Exactly what the noble wants. And here's the best part: the guy left the inn about half an hour ago. Went off on some mission to a random village, no one knows where. The girls are alone now. This is our chance."
The fat man's lips curled into a smile, but it was far from pleasant. It was a greedy, twisted grin that made his round face look even more repulsive.
His problem, which had weighed on him like a storm cloud, was finally lifting. The noble's order could be fulfilled, and with it, his business, and his life, would be safe.
He leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the table as he processed the news. "Good," he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Very good."
He pointed a thick finger at the lackey. "Take some men, however many you need. Get those girls, do whatever it takes. If that man comes back and causes trouble, kill him. You said he's new in town, right? No one will care if some stranger disappears. Make it clean, but make it quick."
The lackey nodded, a glint of excitement in his eyes. The fat man's smile widened, and he gestured toward the corner of the room, where the naked demi-human woman lay trembling, still bound by her leash.
"And if you pull this off," he added, his tone sickeningly casual, "you can take this filth." He jerked his thumb at the woman. "Do whatever you want with her, you and the men going with you. Consider it a bonus."
The lackey's grin matched his boss's, a shared understanding of the cruelty they were about to unleash.
The fat man leaned back, already imagining the profit he'd make from selling the young demi-human girls to the noble.
'A unknown man with some demi human young girls just happened to appear, and that too a young man, probably a newbie trying out his luck somewhere, it's like god is clearly saying go and get them and make a profit.'
To him, this was just business, a chance to climb higher in a world that thrived on the suffering of others.
….
A/N: Madara was going to do something about this slaving in the town, but i just gave him a little push to do it on his very first day.
This chapter was important as it shows the dirty side of the town, if madara had just shown up and get rid of them it wouldn't have shown you the dirty side. So here is how dirty this town is.
And this was just a tip of the iceberg in this town, and even holy church in this world allowed the slaving and even promote it saying they are a lesser race, and they even hot some heroes and knights in the church.
You know where I'm going with this aren't you?