As I pressed onward into the heart of Veythral's slave market, the strange sensation deep within my chest refused to subside.

This was no simple curiosity, nor was it a directed impulse.

It was a feeling of yearning I had never before tasted, one that seeped down to my very bones, a longing I couldn't comprehend.

It was as if a piece of my soul, lost long ago, was calling out to me from one of these wretched streets.

The cacophony around me was unbearable. A different clamor arose from each of the shoddy stalls, cobbled together from mud and rotting wood.

Slave traders bellowed at the top of their lungs to attract potential buyers, endlessly listing the virtues of their merchandise.

"Come here, master! I have the strongest warrior! Worth an army!" one shouted.

Another leaned in to whisper in a potential customer's ear, "The most exotic beauties, unique flowers to enliven your nights..."

The clanking of chains, hopeless moans, and the enraged roars of caged beasts formed the main notes of this symphony of misery.

But I ignored all these offers, all these sounds.

My mind was locked on a single purpose: to find the source of this feeling.

My feet, as if they had a will of their own, carried me toward the deeper, wealthier, and darker parts of the market.

The area belonging to the common, petty slave traders was now behind me.

I stood before a colossal building that seemed to scorn the ugliness and squalor surrounding it.

The structure and quality of the building set it apart from the entire district. It was constructed of white marble and meticulously carved stone; its windows were polished, and its door was wrought from a fusion of iron and gold.

It was clear this was an establishment where only the finest, rarest "goods" were sold.

I stood there before the building.

I had no doubt; the source of that longing, that sorrowful feeling, was coming from here, from behind these luxurious walls.

The building's security did not appear particularly tight.

On either side of the massive entrance stood two men clad in quality armor. Their power levels seemed to be around the Second or Third Star.

They were nothing to me, but for an ordinary person, they would be a formidable obstacle.

I approached them to enter. As I drew near, both guards crossed their spears before me, blocking the way.

One asked in a soulless voice, "What is your purpose?"

"I was thinking of buying a slave," I replied, keeping my voice as casual as possible.

The other guard spoke.

"Do you have a reservation? Our establishment will be closing soon. If you are not one of our VIP clients, we must ask you to come back tomorrow."

I was annoyed. After that feeling inside me had dragged me all this way, I couldn't turn back now because of two watchdogs.

"My business inside won't take long, gentlemen. I'm just thinking of looking at one or two slaves."

"We understand, sir, but our rules are absolute. Only our VIP clients can be served at this hour."

My patience was wearing thin with the attitude of these men and their nonsensical rules.

I could kill them right here, before anyone knew what happened, and walk inside to take what I wanted.

The thought flashed through my mind like lightning.

But then, Fredrinn's face appeared in my mind's eye. If such an incident were to happen in the very heart of Veythral, it would certainly reach his ears, and the fragile trust between us would be utterly destroyed.

That was a situation I did not want right now.

I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself.

"So, how do I attain VIP client status?" I asked.

"You can achieve that status by spending a certain amount of gold and purchasing slaves," the guard said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

I sighed, unable to hide my sarcasm.

"Look, I'm telling you I'm already here to buy a slave. If you don't let me in to spend my gold, how can I become a VIP?"

The guards paused for a moment at this line of reasoning but did not reply.

It was clear they weren't paid to think.

"May I speak with someone of higher authority?" I asked, the impatience evident in my voice.

One of the guards turned and went inside, while the other continued his watch, his eyes never leaving me.

A few minutes later, a middle-aged man emerged, wearing a robe of fine silk. He had a clean-shaven face but for a long, curling mustache, and his cunning, fox-like eyes immediately fixed on me.

The man scanned me from head to toe with a condescending expression.

His gaze lingered on my cheap, nearly threadbare clothes.

He cleared his throat with a slight cough and began to speak with a feigned courtesy.

"I am one of the men in charge of this establishment, Silas Vane. It would be more accurate to say I am responsible for VIP clients or those inclined to spend gold on a large scale. Sir, I hear you are quite eager to purchase a slave, but unfortunately, our establishment is currently open only to our special clients."

He paused and sized me up again.

"If you are so insistent on becoming a VIP client, may I ask what kind of slave you are looking for and your budget? Because I must point out, quality warriors or sex slaves do not come cheap."

The condescension in his words was so blatant it was almost comical.

Instead of answering, I reached my hand into my dimensional pouch.

I pulled out a heavy purse, filled to the brim with gold. The jingle of the coins within briefly silenced the street's clamor.

The newcomer's, Silas's, eyes locked onto the purse of gold with a cunning gleam.

The dismissive look on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a greedy smile.

I slowly extended the purse toward Silas. The man reached out with the eagerness of a wet dog lunging for a piece of meat.

Just as he was about to take the purse from my hand, I loosened my fingers and let it fall.

The heavy purse thudded heavily onto the ground, its mouth falling open and spilling several gleaming gold coins across the marble floor.

A broad smile spread across my face.

"You wanted gold, didn't you? You can stoop down and pick it up. Now get out of my way and show me the slaves you have."

Without waiting any longer, I stepped through the door.

The guards, unsure of what to do, started to make a move toward me but remained frozen in place, partly due to the suppressed pressure emanating from me and partly because they had received no order from Silas.

At my action, Silas turned purple with rage, his fox-like eyes looking as if they would pop from their sockets.

But he did not lose his professionalism and composure.

He hissed through his teeth, "Collect the gold," and quickly followed me inside.

The interior was just as, if not more, luxurious than it appeared from the outside.

Hand-woven carpets on the floor swallowed the sound of footsteps, and magical light crystals on the walls illuminated the surroundings with a warm, golden light. This resembled the reception hall of a luxurious palace more than a slave market.

"Well then, our esteemed client," Silas said, trying to hide the rage in his voice beneath a veneer of forced courtesy. "May I ask what kind of slave you are looking for?"

"I don't know," I answered, examining my surroundings. "For now, I want to see all the slaves you have."

Silas's face twitched. "Our establishment is very large, sir. That will take quite some time."

"No problem," I said with a shrug. "I can't say I'm a very busy person."

Silas first led me to a section where sex slaves with soulless eyes stared into the void from silk cushions. Then we moved to a section with massive cages holding chained beasts and savage warriors.

Some were demi-humans, abducted from their homes and tribes.

I couldn't say I had seen many demi-humans until now. They were almost indistinguishable from humans, except some had strange, twitching ears on their heads or long tails extending from their waists. Some resembled cats, others dogs. I even saw one with a pair of magnificent, though bound, wings on its back.

Silas, seeming to notice my curious gaze, spoke.

"These have caught your interest, I presume? They were not easy to acquire. Most were abducted from the lands of demi-human communities, far from civilization. We lost many of our men trying to capture them. That is why their prices are not cheap."

He paused and looked at me with a mocking expression.

"The cheapest one is worth 300 gold. Do you think you can afford that?"

I pretended not to hear his question. The feeling inside me was still not satisfied.

What I was looking for wasn't here, but I could feel it was very close.

With every passing second, that longing and pain within me grew stronger. It was like a thorn piercing my heart, an echo of a void in my soul.

Whatever I was looking for, I was very close to finding it.

I started walking towards the corridors where the other slaves were housed. Silas followed behind me, muttering under his breath.

He pointed to a slave cage and got lost in a speech about how rare the creature inside was.

He had turned his back to me for only a moment.

That was enough for me.

When Silas finished his passionate sales pitch and turned back to me, there was no one in the corridor.

He stared into the empty space.

Panicked, he called out to the nearest employee, a man busy introducing slaves to another wealthy client.

"Jon!" Silas called, the panic in his voice obvious. "Did you see someone here with black hair and black eyes? He was wearing cheap clothes, not very tall. He was with me just a moment ago!"

Jon excused himself from his client and turned to Silas.

"No, I didn't see anyone, Silas. I knew someone was with you, but I didn't notice when they left."

Silas's face went white as a sheet.

Inside his secure, high-tech facility, a customer had just vanished from right under his nose.

He swallowed hard, a cold bead of sweat trickling down his temple.

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