Chapter 75: Chapter 75: Slave Night Market [1]

I was walking toward my new target location, descending deeper into the earth with each step. The underground auction chamber awaited below, hidden from the eyes of proper society.

A woman led the way before me, a broker by trade. I had paid a ridiculous two hundred gold coins for her services, and in return she had arranged my participation in tonight’s event and forged a convincing fake identity among the clientele.

My current holdings sat at ten thousand five hundred gold coins. Five thousand seven hundred from my previous endeavors, five thousand from Rebecca’s desperate purchase, minus the two hundred that had found its way into this broker’s pocket.

With that kind of wealth weighing down my storage purse, the world looked entirely different.

Everyone in front of me felt small. Insignificant. Like pests beneath my notice, scurrying about their meaningless lives while I walked among them as something greater.

My eyes traced the figure of the woman leading me forward. A thought crossed my mind unbidden.

’Should I just buy her instead?’

I smiled to myself. ’With this much money, I could probably purchase her entire lineage.’

I recalled moments earlier when a guard at the entrance had failed to bow with proper respect.

The way I had stared him down until his knees buckled and his forehead nearly touched the ground. The fear in his eyes as he realized his mistake.

’Pathetic creature.’

Finally, the broker gestured toward a grand hall that opened before us. Rows of seats descended toward a central stage, and she led me to my designated position.

A paddle rested on the velvet cushion, bearing the inscription: PATRON #69.

I smiled at the number as I moved toward my seat.

“Sir Eren,” the broker spoke from behind me, “if you have any needs during the auction, you can find me stationed in that service box.”

I paused mid-step.

“Oh, I do have one need,” I said without turning around.

She waited attentively to hear my request.

“Do me a favor.” My voice dropped to something cold and commanding. “Never call me by my name again. It’s Sir. That’s the only word you need to remember when addressing me. Understand?”

I waved my hand dismissively.

“Now move along. I can’t stand the smell of poverty lingering around me.”

She maintained her professional smile, but as she walked away, I distinctly heard the click of her tongue against her teeth.

I didn’t care in the slightest.

I settled into my seat with practiced elegance, positioning myself as though I were the highest noble in attendance. My posture radiated authority. My expression conveyed bored superiority.

But that confidence shattered the moment a woman walked past me and claimed the seat at my side.

She moved with an authority that made mine look like a child playing pretend. Every step carried the weight of someone who genuinely ruled their world, not someone merely pretending to.

A ornate mask concealed her features. Her attire spoke of absolute power, a fitted dark ensemble with sharp lines and expensive fabric that hugged her commanding figure.

The kind of outfit a queen might wear when conducting serious business.

She sat beside me with legs crossed, her posture perfect, her presence overwhelming.

Something nagged at my memory. Just from her figure alone, I felt certain I had encountered this woman before. But where?

I was about to open my mouth, ready to propose an outrageous offer.

How much would it cost to make her my personal slave and maid for the rest of her life? It would certainly save me the trouble of searching through tonight’s stock.

But before words could form, an announcement echoed through the chamber.

“Distinguished patrons, honored guests, and esteemed collectors of fine acquisitions!”

A man in elaborate robes stood at the center stage, his voice magically amplified to reach every corner.

“Welcome once again to our prestigious Underground Night Auction. After a month of careful preparation, we are thrilled to present our newest offerings to your discerning eyes.”

He spread his arms wide in theatrical greeting.

“Your continued cooperation, generous support, and unwavering patronage have made this establishment what it is today. To express our deepest gratitude, we have assembled a collection that will undoubtedly shatter every record this auction has ever set.”

A murmur of anticipation rippled through the crowd.

“In terms of coin spent and, most importantly, in sheer quantity and quality of merchandise. Tonight, we offer an unprecedented variety of the finest slaves available. From hardened prisoners to fallen nobility, each specimen has been thoroughly prepared to serve your every desire and satisfy your most particular preferences.”

His smile turned knowing.

“Use them however you wish. As you well know, once bound, they cannot defy you.”

My attention shifted away from the mysterious woman beside me. Perhaps I should wait and observe the offerings first. A fallen noble might change my perspective entirely.

“Without further delay,” the announcer continued, “we present our first selection. Lot One consists of specimens of considerable physical prowess, capable of satisfying certain preferences held by both our male and female patrons alike.”

He gestured toward the entrance. “Bring forth our very first slave!”

Two guards emerged, dragging between them a massive figure. The man was tall and impossibly broad, muscles bulging beneath scarred skin.

His eyes held the dead stare of someone who had killed many times, likely even within the prison cells themselves.

I felt genuine terror looking at this beast. ’Who in their right mind would purchase this maniac?’

Then a paddle rose from somewhere in the crowd.

“One thousand gold!”

My jaw dropped. One thousand for this monster?

The bidding war erupted immediately. Numbers climbed higher and higher until finally one voice emerged victorious.

A woman rose from her seat, hiding her masked face behind an ornate fan as she glided toward the stage. Something about her movements suggested barely contained excitement.

“Congratulations to Patron Number Thirteen for acquiring our first slave of the evening!”

The announcer gestured, and a staff member approached carrying two small droppers. One was administered forcefully to the slave while the other was handed to the winning bidder.

The liquid inside looked distinctly like blood.

After the women drank it as well the staff said, “Madam, you may proceed with the binding.”

The woman nodded and began reciting words that sounded rehearsed yet carried undeniable power.

“I, as your superior and sole authority, command you to acknowledge me as your master. You shall devote yourself entirely to my will, surrendering your service, your obedience, and your very existence for the remainder of your days.”

Her voice grew stronger.

“By the sacred covenant of the Astrea bloodline, I demand your answer. Do you acknowledge me?”

The slave hissed through clenched teeth, resistance burning in his eyes. But the guards beside him leaned close, whispering something with cruel smiles. The message was clear even from my distance.

Accept, or die a death far worse than servitude.

Seconds passed. Then his shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I acknowledge you as my master.”

The moment those words left his lips, he screamed. His body convulsed as though flames were consuming him from within.

The agony lasted nearly a minute before it subsided, leaving him gasping and broken.

Guards dragged him away for preparation while his new owner returned to her seat. Even from here, I could see the perverted thoughts dancing behind her masked expression.

Seeing the Astrea blood used as a binding contract surprised me, but it made logical sense.

This world didn’t operate on those typical mana oaths as the world cannot be compared with that level of magic.

But my Astrea bloodline was different. It had some crazy mystery of some ancient beings due to which our power level and hierarchy is different.

Before I could contemplate further, the next slave was brought forth.

A woman this time. But she towered even larger than the previous man, her frame a terrifying combination of tribal warrior and northern viking.

Muscles rippled beneath sun-darkened skin.

Fear gripped me again. ’If I made her submit, she would definitely break my dick during her pleasure.’

The bidding commenced, climbing rapidly until it reached seven thousand gold coins.

And in that moment, reality struck with brutal clarity.

I finally understood exactly where I stood among these filthy rich and utterly mad people.

My ten thousand gold, which had made me feel invincible mere moments ago, was merely middle-tier wealth in this den of monsters.

[A/N: Someone got humbled real quick]

An old bald man won the bid and practically sprinted to the stage to inspect his prize.

The shameless creature began smelling her immediately, circling like a dog examining meat. His tiny frame stretched upward to raise her arms, and he actually was analyzing her arm pits for something I can’t tell.

Then he grabbed the waistband of her shorts, stretched it outward, and peered directly at her pussy with the scrutiny of a merchant examining produce.

Finally, he turned to the staff and made a scissoring gesture with his fingers.

As if requesting they trim whatever he had found down there.

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