Leo stood before the heavy metal bars of the underground chamber, his expression unreadable in the dim torchlight. The slave master—a rotund man with a polished smile and sweat glistening under his triple chin—stood across from him.
Leo's voice was cold and cutting.
"Why do you kidnap children, women, and men—just to throw them into cages like this?"
The fat man didn't flinch. In fact, he chuckled, folding his arms behind his back with a calm familiarity, as if he'd heard that line too many times before.
"Sir, you must be new here." He smiled. "When did I ever say I kidnap anyone?"
Leo narrowed his eyes.
The man continued, tone matter-of-fact.
"The children you see here? Abandoned by their families. Left to rot on the streets. The women? Most have been sexually assaulted—left shattered and without a place to go. Some begged me to take them in. And the men? Nobles and officials threw them in prison with false charges. You'd be surprised how easy it is to get a knight to do what you want when they owe you favors."
Leo's expression softened slightly. His gaze wandered to the dim cells beyond—where people lay asleep in silence. The distant hum of sorrow lingered in the air.
"…I see." Leo lowered his voice. "Sorry. I didn't expect a slave master to… actually have some kind of code."
The fat man chuckled again, this time almost bitterly.
"I have a family too, sir. A daughter. A wife. They think I run a clinic. I don't want them knowing I do this."
He glanced at the cages. "The Empire won't house these people. They won't allow slavery either. So I stay hidden. This is the only place where they get a roof… even if it's a cage."
At that moment, the cloaked man who had led Leo here spoke.
"Sir, do you have what I asked for?"
"Ah yes, sleeping potions. For the restless ones."
He handed the man a small satchel. As the man left, Leo stared at the rows of cages again—children, women, demi-humans, and beastfolk alike. Most were asleep. Some stared blankly, others curled into corners.
The slave master turned back to Leo, his tone suddenly shifting back to business.
"So then, sir… What are you looking for? I have every kind. Sexual slaves. Scholars. Fighters. Servants. Just name it."
Leo folded his arms.
"I'm looking for a trained combat slave. Someone who can fight in the arena."
The fat man scratched his head.
"Trained? Hm… we don't have any fully trained combatants right now. But…"
He smirked. "We do have some promising ones—kids with combat instincts, great potential. Raise them right, and they could be strong enough to take down A-rank adventurers in two months."
Leo's thoughts raced.
Two months… That's too long. But maybe—just maybe—I'll find someone promising.
He looked back at the man.
"Take me to see them."
The slave master nodded, gesturing for him to follow.
"Of course. This way, sir."
They descended deeper underground. The air grew colder. The walls more cracked, more forgotten. Finally, they entered another chamber—larger than the last. Dozens of young faces looked up from behind rusty bars: demi-human children with fox ears, elves with haunted eyes, beastkin girls curled together, and even a few young men, scarred and silent.
The slave master gestured proudly.
"Here they are. Potential combat slaves. Human, dwarf, elf, demi—you name it. Look as long as you want."
Leo walked forward quietly, scanning each face. He wasn't here for sympathy. He wasn't here for morality.
He was here to find a weapon.
A partner for war.
Then Leo began examining each slave one by one.
He moved slowly through the rows of cages—silent, thoughtful. Women, demi-humans, beastkin, even a few young men and children—all sat or slept quietly, their faces showing fatigue or resignation.
Leo's thoughts echoed inside him.
As expected… I don't want a fighter who needs two whole months just to be ready. I need someone I can use right now.
He was about to turn away in disappointment when his eyes caught something odd—there was a curtain, slightly worn and ragged, hiding a gate behind it.
Leo narrowed his eyes. "What's there?"
The slave master, standing a few feet behind, suddenly looked nervous. "A-Ahh… Sir, you really shouldn't go there. Better to ignore it."
Leo didn't move. "Why not?"
The slave master sighed deeply. "Well… since you already noticed it, I suppose I can't hide it now." He slowly approached the curtain. "There is a good combat fighter beyond this gate. But… I doubt you'll want to buy him."
Without waiting for permission, Leo followed closely as the curtain was pulled back.
They stepped inside.
The room was dark, silent, and filled with the scent of dust and old iron. Spider webs hung like banners of abandonment, and ants crawled across the cracked stone floor. Nothing moved.
What is this place…? Leo thought.
The slave master raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A dim candle on the wall flickered to life, casting long shadows across the room.
Then Leo saw him.
A towering man knelt in the center of the chamber—his body was massive, bound in thick chains that clinked faintly with his every breath. Even on his knees, his head nearly reached Leo's chest, and he looked like he could break steel with his bare hands. His skin was marked with old battle scars. Long, unkempt gray hair hung over his face, and his eyes remained hidden in shadow.
Leo stepped forward cautiously. "Who is this guy…? He's not normal. His height, his build—he's like something out of a battlefield legend."
The slave master crossed his arms and spoke solemnly.
"…He is called Zama."