Moments earlier, in the grand auction hall, Drosmir stood on the stage, his voice carrying with that same oily charisma that made the wealthy buyers before him cling to every word. Slaves were paraded forward, their wrists bound, their faces marked with despair, while nobles and merchants in fine silks raised hands and voices, bargaining over human lives as if they were mere food items displayed in a market stall. Young, old, and middle-aged alike were reduced to property beneath the gleam of the auction lights.
Among the crowd, Elira and Serah—still cloaked in their disguises—endured the sight with tight jaws and carefully masked revulsion. Their expressions betrayed nothing, but their eyes burned each time another life was sold. Serah's hands itched for action, but patience weighed heavily on her shoulders.
