The town of Marhoven lay close to Eastwell, its streets filled with activity bustled under the pale morning light, but there was a strange hush in the eastern quarter. Felix Mavis stood at the edge of the stone-paved alley, his hands behind his back, eyes resting on the tall structure ahead—a domed building with carved emblems above its arched entrance. Its sign read simply: "Valen's Registry."
The slave auction house.
Beside him, Rin tugged her hood tighter. "I've never liked this place. You really want to do this?"
Felix didn't answer immediately. His gaze lingered on the people entering—merchants in lacquered carriages, armed nobles with guarded expressions, and commoners looking to hire what they couldn't earn through favor or coin.
"They're not all forced," he finally said. "Some sell themselves. Still... I'm not here to justify it. I just need someone capable. A warrior."
Rin glanced at him. "You could hire mercenaries."
He turned to her. "Mercenaries fight for coin. I need someone who can be trusted. Someone I can help, too."
Inside, the hall reeked faintly of perfume and polished wood. The room opened into an arena-like space, with tiers of seating and a central stage lined in red banners. Slave handlers stood along the side corridors. Some slaves stood behind bars; others were presented in orderly files—warriors, artisans, and those deemed "special."
A heavy voice echoed from the auctioneer's podium. "Next! Lot 243. Male. War prisoner. Awakened Realm, mid stage. Price starts at 60 gold marks!"
A tired-looking man was brought forward in shackles. His eyes were dull, expression blank.
The bidding began.
Felix said nothing. He watched. One by one, warriors were sold—most were defeated soldiers, remnants of shattered factions who had nowhere else to go. The Empire allowed this kind of sale not because it was righteous, but because it stabilized the economy. The war created too many mouths and not enough shelter.
Still, Felix's chest ached with a quiet discomfort.
He turned to Rin. "They sell themselves to avoid worse fates. But I still hate the system."
She nodded, arms crossed.
Felix quietly purchased ten ordinary warrior slaves—tired men and women who once held spears and swords with pride. They were from broken armies and ruined towns. Then, he bought a young man—still calm, still standing tall—an early-stage Awakening Realm fighter to serve as their captain. The warrior gave a slight nod when Felix met his eyes.
He also selected ten skilled attendants—older, quiet folk with the eyes of craftsmen. They knew how to sort, clean, and identify basic materials. Some had worked in talisman shops before; others came from apothecaries or forges. None resisted. Some even seemed relieved.
"I'll make sure they're paid and housed," Felix said softly. "They won't be slaves for long."
Rin looked at him, eyes gentle. "You're giving more than shelter."
"Everyone needs a reason to stand again."
He brought out a stack of pre-drawn contract talismans—each imbued with a binding oath meant only to prevent betrayal or danger to himself, Rin, or the sanctum. He offered it plainly to each person.
"This is for safety," he said. "You're not prisoners. These only stop you from harming others under this roof. Once you're ready to leave or work freely, we'll tear them apart together."
One by one, the warriors and attendants accepted the talismans. The faint glow of magical ink shimmered as they bound to Felix's energy.
Hours passed. Then the auctioneer's tone changed.
"Lot 289! A rare find! Dimensional captive! High-elf bloodline from the Silverdew Expanse!"
The crowd stirred.
Felix straightened.
From behind the curtain, two handlers pulled a slender figure into the light. A woman with snow-white hair flowing down to her waist, skin like porcelain kissed by moonlight. Her ears—long and pointed—marked her unmistakably as an elf.
The auctioneer raised his voice. "Yes, gentlemen and ladies! A true elf. Rare and coveted! However—"
He gestured toward her arms, bound in runic steel. "Her meridians are broken. She cannot cultivate. Formerly a high-tier battle class, but now reduced. Therefore, her value is marked lower than expected. Starting bid: 150 gold marks!"
A few gasps.
Someone laughed. "What's the use of a broken cultivator?"
"Beauty, of course," muttered another.
Felix's jaw tensed.
The elf woman stood silently. Her posture was dignified despite the collar at her throat. Her pale violet eyes scanned the crowd, not with fear—but with a distant sorrow. As if she had long passed the threshold of despair.
Rin whispered, "She's broken. Not just her body... her heart too."
Felix didn't respond. He raised his hand. "One hundred fifty."
The auctioneer looked surprised. "Bid of 150 from tier three!"
Another voice: "160."
Felix: "200."
A pause.
Someone scoffed. "For a broken elf? Madness."
"Two hundred going once..."
Silence.
"Going twice... Sold!"
Felix stepped down as the handlers brought her forward. He accepted the contract talisman—an enforced magical seal that ensured loyalty through binding terms. It shimmered with golden ink and imperial script.
He looked at her. "For safety only. Not control."
She looked at the talisman, her expression unreadable, and nodded faintly. As the talisman bound with a soft golden pulse, Felix felt a hollow warmth spread across his palm.
The elf looked up at him for the first time.
"What name?" he asked gently.
She paused. Then in a soft, ethereal voice: "Seris."
He nodded. "I'm Felix. You're free to walk. No bindings here."
She didn't move.
Rin reached out and unbound the steel cuffs. Seris's wrists were red and sore, but she didn't flinch.
"Come," Felix said. "You're not mine. Just someone under my care."
As they stepped out of Valen's Registry, the sun dipped low on the horizon. Seris squinted against the light, as if it had been long since she'd seen anything but cold stone walls.
Back at the Mystic Well Sanctum, Rin prepared guest rooms while Felix guided Seris and the others into the inner hall. Unlike the grand shopfront, this part of the building was warm and lived-in. Shelves of books, quiet chimes, and the scent of herbal incense filled the space.
He gestured to a seat. "Sit. Rest. I'll have food brought."
Seris sat mechanically, hands folded in her lap.
"Your meridians... they can't be healed?"
She looked down. "No. Torn. Not sealed or blocked. There's nothing left."
"That means pain. Constant."
A faint nod.
Felix placed a vial in front of her. "This won't fix them, but it'll ease the ache. Made by Alchemist Lina. She's a friend."
She stared at it.
"You don't have to trust me now," he added. "Just know that I don't plan to hurt you. Or use you."
Slowly, she lifted the vial. Drank.
Moments passed.
Her eyes widened slightly. Her shoulders loosened. "...Warm."
"That's the idea."
Rin came in with a blanket. "The bed is ready. If you want."
Seris stood. She bowed—not from obligation, but as if unsure what else to do.
Felix stepped aside. "Sleep, and tomorrow, we'll talk more. If you want work, there's plenty. If not, then rest as long as you need."
As Seris vanished down the hall, Rin turned to Felix. "You didn't just buy an assistant."
He looked at her. "No. I bought her a second chance."
Rin's expression softened. "You really do carry too much on your back."
He smiled faintly. "Then help me carry it."
Outside, the stars shimmered. But inside the Mystic Well Sanctum, a broken star had found its place—shattered, but no longer alone.