Arian Crossveil stepped down from the carriage with steady footsteps, accompanied by the two trained guards who walked with him through the stone corridor until they reached the largest building in the market—the one belonging to the most famous slave trader on the island.
The old trader stood at the door himself and bowed the moment he saw Arian.
The trader, in a cautious voice:
"What an honor this day is… I did not expect a visit from a lord of the Crossveil family. Know this, my lord… I have slaves of every kind—humans, giants, elves… anything you can imagine."
His voice was filled with respect and fear, trying to sound confident, yet fully aware that a single word from Arian could end his entire business forever.
Arian, coldly:
"I'll look around for a while… then I'll decide."
The trader moved beside him, trying to explain his goods quietly and carefully:
The trader:
"We have elves, human-like hybrids, merfolk, and rare kinds of slaves brought from the Fallen Islands… each one trained or tamable. And of course, the quality is guaranteed, my lord."
Arian suddenly stopped, staring at the rows of cages ahead of him, a hint of thought appearing on his face. He wasn't searching for strength or rare abilities… but something entirely different.
He raised his head and looked at the trader with a deep, frightening stare that made the trader's body tremble.
And he said:
"Show me… the weakest slave you have."
The trader's eyes widened in shock. He had expected Arian to look for power or rarity, not for "the weakest he had." But he didn't dare question or object.
The trader, bowing with tension:
"O… of course, my lord. Please follow me… I will show you the weakest of them."
The trader hurried ahead, leading him toward the back section of the market… the place where they kept the forgotten slaves no one wanted.
Arian continued walking behind the trader through the narrow corridors, and with each step he took, the scene grew more miserable.
Here, the slaves were not for sale… but for the forgotten.
He saw thin children clinging to the bars of their cages, pregnant women barely able to stand, elderly people with no strength left, others missing a foot or an arm, and some crippled or blind.
The place was filled with countless kinds of humans, elves, and orcs… all exhausted.
But only one thing truly caught his attention.
A small cell at the end of the corridor… inside it were two people.
A young girl was crying violently, her tears falling onto the dusty ground as she held the hand of a woman lying beside her, clearly suffering from illness and malnutrition.
The girl screamed:
"Please! Someone help her! Mom… Mom is dying… she's starving… please!"
Her words trembled in the air, filled with such despair that some of the slaves in the nearby cells turned their faces away.
The merchant, who sensed the tension in the place, immediately panicked.
He feared that the noise might disturb the island governor's son… Arian Crossveil.
He turned sharply and shouted angrily:
"Guards! Make her shut up immediately! Hit her if you must!"
The guards hadn't moved yet, but before anyone could approach… Arian's calm, cutting voice came:
"Stop."
Everyone froze in place.
The merchant slowly turned toward Arian, trying to read his expression, but found no anger… nor sympathy.
Just a calm, unreadable coldness—far more frightening than any scream.
Arian took a step toward the cell, peering through the bars at the girl and her mother.
Then he lifted his gaze to the merchant and spoke in a low voice that carried an authority impossible to refuse:
"I want to enter this cell."
The merchant's eyes widened… he couldn't understand why a noble would care about such a miserable scene, but he didn't dare ask.
With a quick bow, the merchant said:
"Of course… of course, my lord. At once."
He gestured nervously for the jailer to open the iron door.
The cell door creaked open slowly, making the girl flinch and raise her head.
For a moment… she thought her cries had finally reached someone kind—that the savior she had waited for had come to rescue her and her mother from this hell.
She looked up at Arian with swollen, tear-filled eyes, waiting for a word, a touch, any sign of hope.
But Arian… didn't even look at her.
He walked past her as if she didn't exist, his steps steady and cold, holding something the girl could not understand.
Her eyes widened in confusion.
"Why…?"
The question echoed in her mind, but she couldn't bring herself to say it aloud.
Arian slowly bent over the woman lying on the ground, who was barely breathing.
Her face was pale, and her body trembled from fever and hunger.
He reached out and placed his fingers on the mother's forehead, with no hesitation in his eyes.
It wasn't an act of mercy to the girl… it was something else entirely.
Something strange… something she couldn't comprehend.
She stared at him with her mouth slightly open, a mixture of fear, hope, and shock swirling inside her thoughts:
"Is he… going to help her? Or is he… like the others?"
Arian, meanwhile, gazed deeply at the woman, as if he were examining something invisible—trying to read what remained of her soul… or confirm something the events had not yet revealed.
The girl took a tiny step forward, her voice trembling:
"P… please… my mom… she's… going to die."
But Arian did not raise his head.
The silence in the cell felt heavier than the air.
When Arian placed his hand on the woman's forehead, he wasn't checking her fever or health…
He was trying to summon the first sensation he had known in this world.
The sensation he felt when he absorbed the original young man's soul and took over his body.
He closed his eyes for a moment, recalling that strange feeling…
A feeling as if invisible limbs extended from within him, reaching through his hands—seeking, touching, wrapping around something drifting in darkness.
And when he tried to repeat it now…
He felt something.
Weak.
Trembling.
Barely holding on.
The woman's soul.
It was transparent, fragile—like her body that could barely cling to life.
Yet there was a faint pulse resisting the pull, resisting being taken.
Arian inhaled slowly.
Then he allowed that feeling to fully rise within him, like a swirl of light stretching from inside him through his palm.
The soul began to draw out from the woman's body through his hand and into his own.
At first it was slow…
Then it accelerated bit by bit.
He felt slight resistance, like a dying person trying to cling to life with shaking fingers.
But her resistance was nothing compared to what he had faced when seizing the body he inhabited now.
Her soul was…
Fragile.
Torn.
Close to its end.
As the minutes passed, he nearly perfected the feeling of absorption.
And finally…
All trace of the woman's soul vanished.
The woman became completely still—a body without a soul.
And Arian slowly opened his eyes, sensing that faint fullness—not like the first time, just the remnants… the fragments… of a weak, dying soul.
Nearby…
The girl stared at him, not understanding what had happened, but her heart knew something had changed—something enormous…
And that her mother was no longer the same