"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your wonderful host, Sarah!"
From behind the velvet curtain, a beautiful woman stepped onto the stage, her blonde hair tied neatly into a bun.
Her brown eyes shimmered under the crystal lights, her hips swaying with practiced grace as she approached the podium.
The guests before her were already buzzing, their eyes hungry, eager to hear the sound of her sweet, honeyed voice.
"My esteemed guests," Sarah began, her smile captivating, "as you have no doubt already heard, today the prestigious Silver Moon Auction House has the honor of unveiling something extraordinary.
For the first time ever, we are proud to present Mr. Smith's latest creation, a product that will, without a doubt, change the slaving industry forever."
Gasp!
"So it is true?"
"He finally made something new?"
Murmurs rippled through the hall, excitement building like a tide.
"Yes, you heard correctly, ladies and gentlemen. The one and only Mr. Smith has created something revolutionary."
Sarah's grin deepened. "But we'll get to that soon enough. For now, shall we begin the auction?"
The crowd cheered, eager to get started.
"Our first item today is a one-of-a-kind emerald necklace, crafted by the prestigious William Hill. This necklace isn't just jewelry; it can send distress signals to anyone you choose, no matter the distance, telling them exactly where you are."
She presented the necklace, its golden chain gleaming, the embedded emerald glowing with a faint magical pulse.
"We'll start the bidding at twenty-five silver."
"Thirty!" someone called.
"Thirty-five!"
"Forty!"
"Sixty!"
The crowd roared, the numbers climbing quickly.
"Sixty silver going once… going twice…"
"Seventy!" another bidder shouted.
"Seventy solid, to number sixty-nine! Excellent choice, number sixty-nine.
Moving on! Bring out the next item!"
Behind the Stage
"Give him a healing potion and put him in chains with the rest," Miss V ordered sharply, her cold gaze flicking to the two men who had just dragged Azrael in.
"And stop giving him the drugs. It's just making him more agitated. Get him cleaned up. She's about to call the slaves out.
Make them look presentable."
"Yes, Mistress," they echoed in unison, quickly getting to work.
Back on Stage
"Next up… She paused, giving the audience the suspense they hated.
Slaves!
I know you all appreciate quality, and let me tell you, our stock is the finest you'll find anywhere on the Albion continent."
The crowd leaned forward, eager.
"First up, number one!"
A man stepped out, his body covered in scars from head to toe. He wore only a rough cloth around his waist.
His short silver hair framed an otherwise average face, but it was his eyes, deep, black, and hollow, that drew the most attention.
Eyes that had seen the battlefield. Eyes that had survived war.
"Number one might not look like much, but don't be fooled."
He's a captured soldier from the Velmire Empire, a captain of the third rank in their long-range artillery division.
He's already trained with the bow—perfect for hunting or adventuring parties.
His slave mark is at lock one and his Core is at the apprentice stage third star."
"Bidding starts at five silver."
"Ten!" called guest eighty-two. An old woman who stunk of way too much makeup who wore a wide lusty smile on her face hiding none of her filthy desires.
"Fifteen!" Called guest fifty-four. A man who looked to be in his 30s dressed in an elegant blue suit. "He'll make an excellent addition to my guards " he said completely ignoring the old woman staring daggers at him.
"Fifteen silver going once… going twice… sold to number fifty-four!"
"Next, number two!"
A young woman was led out onto the stage, dressed in the same pitiful rags as the others.
Her shoulder-length dark blue hair partially concealed her face, but not the faint redness around her brown eyes she had been crying.
Her abs were firm, her hips wide, her thick thighs visible beneath the tattered cloth.
"Number two is also a captured Velmire soldier. A blade dancer, young woman in her late teens
She's well-trained and has potential for battlefield support. Our inspections confirm she is pure. Her core stage is at pitiful Novice Zero stars.
Like number one, her slave mark is at lock one."
"We'll start the bidding at twenty silver."
"Thirty!" Shouted guest sixty-nine. A young man that looked to be about 13, he had long yellow hair and eyes and a wide smile on his Handsome face watching the girl on stage like she was already his.
"Forty!" from guest forty-eight. A young lady with black hair and purple eyes she looked to be about seventeen herself much like the girl on stage, she had a kind gentle smile on her face but in her heart. "What a wonderful find, She will go nicely in my bed with the others."
"Fifty-five!" back to sixty-nine.
As the numbers climbed, tears began to streak down the girl's face. The sight only seemed to fuel the bidders.
"Eighty!" from number fifty-four. " oh what a wonderful sight "
"Eighty-five!" from seventy-eight.
"One hundred silver!" from sixty-nine. "I must have her" the boy said while giving Fifty four a look that could kill.
"One hundred silver going once… going twice… sold to number sixty-nine!"
"Yes"
The auction continued.
"Next, number thirty-six."
A frail young woman emerged, little more than skin and bone, her chocolate-brown skin stretched thin over her skeletal frame.
Long, creamy white hair trailed down her back. Her dull pink eyes glimmered with barely concealed contempt as she surveyed the audience.
She looked malnourished—her chest barely there, her legs thin, her body fragile.
"Number thirty-six was taken from the edge of Elderwood City on the continent of Alfihim. Believed to be a dark elf. Classified as lock zero.
That's about all we know about her."
"We'll start at twenty silver due to her origin from the Central Continent of the elves."
"Twenty!" from number thirty-two.
"Twenty silver going once… twice… sold to number thirty-two."
"Is he crazy? Look at her."
"They don't even have proper information on her."
"Some people really do have strange tastes."
The murmurs didn't stop the auction from moving forward.
"Next, number forty-one!"
From behind the curtain, a tall young man strode onto the stage, his deep black hair falling to his upper back.
His amber eyes gleamed with a hatred so intense, so raw, that it seemed to pull the very air toward him.
It was a hatred someone could drown in—someone would drown in it.
Atop his head sat two black, furry wolf ears. Behind him, just above his waist, swayed a fluffy black tail tipped with white.
"Number forty-one is one of the beastborn. A wolfkin," Sarah said, her tone laced with disgust, as if she were describing rotting trash.
But the boy didn't hear her. His focus was elsewhere.
In his mind, a message echoed.
[Happy birthday, Azrael. Descendant of ######.]
"Sold to number thirty-two."
"And now, the grand finale!"
Sarah's voice rose with excitement. "Mr. Smith's revolutionary creation—the ultimate slave collar! With this, you can control your slaves indefinitely.
No more running, no more disobedience! One command, and they will obey. They can't flee, they can't hide, they can't resist."
A man was brought onto the stage, another beastborn, this one was a catkin.
They could tell from the two cat-like ears on his head, the long orange tail swaying behind him and his orange eyes that just kept looking at the floor.
Sarah stepped in front of him, fastening a gleaming silver collar around his neck.
Then she took out a Sharp silver knife, bringing it to the slave's arm, cutting it, drawing blood. The boy didn't even react; he just stood there with the same lifeless eyes staring at the floor.
Sarah then took his blood and applied it to a piece of paper in her hand that had a weird symbol on it. After a little more than a minute the paper started to shine blood red until it disappeared under the audience's shocked eyes.
Now ladies and gentlemen watch as this amazing collar gets rid of one of our most annoying problems.
"Sit you worthless beast." Sarah said with a look of disgust on her face like she was staring at something not even worth living.
The man sat.
"Stand."
He stood.
"And to demonstrate the extent of its control…" Sarah's voice became sharp. "Pluck out your eyeball."
This time there was a pause as the audience and the whole auction house held its breath.
Then the man's scream tore through the hall as his fingers dug into his eye socket, his blood flowing down his hand.
"Ahhh!"
"Shut up filthy beast no one gave you permission to speak."
His mouth snapped shut, the scream dying in his throat as his bloody eye fell to the floor.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is real control, no more beating slaves, no more hunting down stupid ones who think they can escape the ones who think they can obtain freedom like the fools they are.
Currently, we only have one available, but you may sign up now to pre-order as many as you wish. Delivery will begin in three months when we receive our bulk supply from Mr Smith himself."
"So what are you all waiting for me the first to get your hands on this amazing product. "
The crowd erupted, papers shuffling as people rushed to place their orders.
And so, the auction ENDED.