[ ] = Doruuk's Thoughts
The following day, Zaira and I head toward the slave market.
As we arrive at the entrance, I freeze in place. My eyes widen as I take in the sheer scale of the place stretching out before me.
[It's massive... imposing. A world completely alien to mine.][I've never seen anything like this. Reality far outstrips anything my imagination could've conjured.]
Zaira throws me a glance, her expression unreadable, disturbingly calm—like this is just another errand."So, are you ready?" she asks, her voice as steady as if we were about to shop for spices.
I steel myself. My tone is sharper than I expected. "Yeah. I'm going in. I'll try to come back with someone useful."
A faint smirk touches her lips. "Good. I'll wait here."
One deep breath later, I step across the threshold—and into hell.
[The slave market in this world is sickening. Here, you can be enslaved for being poor or defenseless. Slaves have no rights—not even basic human dignity. They're exempt from taxes, but only because they're considered property. People are free to capture others straight off the street or from isolated villages. No one stops it. The state turns a blind eye, probably because of some twisted agreement. In this game, morality doesn't exist. Everyone's out for themselves. I don't know much about the other four regions, but Drakathen… I've seen enough to understand how this system works.]
Inside, it's a full-on assault on the senses. The stench of sweat, desperation, and rot hits like a gut punch. The air is thick. Voices—haggling, shouting, pleading—blur into a chaotic, miserable symphony.
[I never imagined something like this existed in Shadowveil: Chronicles of Orvhalis. I thought it was all action and adventure.][Clearly, I skipped more story than I realized.]
Each part of the market is dedicated to a specific "category." Rows and rows of people reduced to products.
[So many types of slaves I've lost count.][I need to get out of here before I lose my grip on reality.]
Just then, a man appears in front of me—short, stocky, with one topknot of hair and a beard tuft under his chin. His eyes are narrow, hands oversized, feet stubby like a dwarf's. His skin is mulatto-toned, and he smiles at me with an oily smugness that churns my stomach.
"Good day, sir," he chirps in a nasal, overly polite voice. "Looking to buy? We've got everything. Only top-quality, I assure you."
[He's talking about people like they're premium goods.]
I fight the nausea and answer coldly, "I want a slave."
The merchant raises an eyebrow, curious. "What type, sir?"
[Zaira's instructions echo in my head—ask for non-human races. They're often brought in from foreign lands. More silent. More cautious. And with luck, one of them might be a healer.]
"Non-human," I say firmly.
He studies me, his eyes running a silent calculation. After a moment, he nods. "This way, sir."
He leads me down a dark corridor into a cavernous chamber. The air thickens, heavy with suffering. Cages line the walls—filled with beings of all shapes, all sizes. The eyes watching me are full of pain. Some plead. Others burn with hate. Others are simply… blank.
The merchant walks calmly, like this is routine. I follow—tense, careful. Every step is a moral weight pressing down.
"This is what you're looking for," he says, almost proudly. "Plenty of choice. Personally, I'd recommend a fine woman—we've got some real beauties."
My jaw clenches. My stare sharpens like ice. "No. I need someone with healing ability."
He frowns, clearly disappointed. "Healing? Not many of those, sir. Might not even have one. Could show you something else—?"
"No," I cut him off. "Just that."
While he walks off to check, I'm left surrounded by whispers—prayers, pleas, and desperate promises. Some beg for mercy. Others offer loyalty. A few swear I'll find treasure if I free them.
[This place... it's beyond cruel. If I had the money, maybe I could do something for them. But right now, I can't.][Now I understand why no one else volunteered for this. The atmosphere is unbearable. But I have to stay focused.]
Time drags. Every minute the merchant's gone feels like an hour. Guilt gnaws at me.
Finally, footsteps echo back down the corridor. He's not alone.
A woman walks beside him.
[A woman?]
"Here she is," he announces proudly.
"I asked for a man," I snap, already frustrated. "Bring me a man."
He shakes his head, feigning regret. "Sorry, sir. No men with that ability. She's the only one. And believe me—this is the largest market in Drakathen. You won't find another."
[He's telling the truth. Damn it. I didn't want a woman for this—but I'm out of options.]
"Fine," I sigh. "Tell me her specs."
Chapter-End.