"To keep our people from ending up like this, we have to make money," Kase said matter-of-factly. "What other choice is there?"
Colin didn't respond, just sighed.
Aside from the unlucky souls who died in the sewers during gang turf wars, this place was probably also part of how Thousand Masts City "digested" its population.
The old, weak, sick, and disabled who could no longer work and were just waiting to die in a corner—most of them probably ended up here.
Colin looked at the group of buyers standing below the stage.
Most of them were residents of the Underground. Once purchased, the slaves on stage would either become sacrificial offerings, be worked to death, or meet other fates an ordinary person could scarcely imagine.
The only certainty was that these poor devils, snatched from the Surface, would likely never escape back to it in their lifetimes.
Colin refused to believe that the nobles of Thousand Masts City weren't secretly profiting from this business.
