Mineral Harbor, 5:00 AM.
The sky had yet to brighten, and the port was shrouded in mist.
The faint glow of dim yellow lanterns cast an eerie gloom over the docks.
Due to its unique geographical conditions, the temperature here remained akin to late autumn year-round. The mist, clinging to the skin in the chilly air, carried an added bite of cold.
"Move! Faster, you damned slaves!"
A sharp, grating voice shattered the quiet of the fog-laden streets, accompanied by the faint sll of blood.
Many hunched figures erged from the thick mist.
Clad in thin clothing, they curled in on themselves as much as possible, their wrists and ankles weighed down by heavy iron shackles.
Under the cover of night and fog, they shuffled slowly towards a dilapidated ship.
The harbor guard on duty yawned, rubbing his swollen eyes.
He had seen this many tis before.
While such dealings were technically forbidden, everyone—from him to his superiors, and even their superiors—turned a blind eye.
The man wielding the whip quickened his pace, his leather boots clicking sharply against the ground.
His silhouette, tall and agile, stood out starkly in the mist.
The sound of "ding-dong" rang out, and even in the dim light of the night, the reflection of the silver coins was enough to stir one's heart.
"This is the paynt for this batch of goods. It's been quite troubleso for you lately, guarding them for so long. You've worked hard—take a little extra. The rainy season is coming soon; buy so more clothes for your family."
The man spoke in a gentle and natural tone, exuding warmth and humanity, as if he were a completely different person from the one who had been brandishing a whip earlier.
In response to the man's words, the guard soldier pocketed the Berries and replied.
"It's alright, not a big deal. But next ti, try to capture fewer people. You took too many this ti—soldiers from that country ca looking for them. If the Joker's n hadn't shown up the other day, your business would've been ruined this ti."
The soldier's advice made the man sigh.
"It's all because the Celestial Tribute has gone up again. Don't think I'm making much from capturing so many people. After deducting paynts for the crew, the higher-ups, ship fees, and all sorts of other expenses, I barely have ten million Berries left for myself by year's end. Then there's about five million Berlies for the Celestial Tribute, plus feeding my wife and kids. Honestly, I hardly save anything. Look, I haven't even changed these shoes in two years."
As he spoke, the man kicked his shoes lightly, his face etched with helplessness.
The movent revealed a small but noticeable hole on the side of the shoe.
Seeing this, the soldier pulled his coat tighter and said resignedly.
"Can't be helped. That's just the world we live in. By the way, in this batch, are there any good ones—or ones we can have so fun with?"
As he said this, the soldier's expression turned lewd and vulgar, his eyes narrowing suggestively as he looked at the man.
Unfazed, the man chuckled and replied.
"There are quite a few won this ti, but most are the hardworking type—not exactly attractive, and pretty sturdy. The few decent-looking ones were already reserved by other buyers. If you really want one, how about that woman over there?"
He pointed with his whip towards a woman standing not far away, her expression dull and her height around two ters.
She wasn't fat, just tall and sowhat broad-shouldered.
The soldier hesitated briefly before murmuring.
"Fine. It's suffocating here every day. How long until you leave?"
The man checked his watch and answered.
"About twenty minutes. The ship's almost here. If you want her, better hurry."
"Don't worry, twenty minutes is plenty. It's not like I usually take that long anyway."
"Hahaha, you're just the sa as always."
As their conversation ended, the man strode into the line of slaves.
With a sharp crack through the air, the whip struck the woman's back.
Even she, who had long abandoned hope of survival, let out a faint, pained groan at the searing agony.
"Hey! You there," the man barked, his voice dripping with impatience.
"See that soldier over there? Go serve him well. If he's satisfied, he might just buy you. Then you can stay here."
Not a shred of pity colored his words.
To him, these people were no different from rchandise.
After enduring several more lashes, the woman trudged slowly towards the soldier.
She didn't want to go, but neither could she face death with any semblance of composure.
The soldier, who had been waiting impatiently, scowled at her sluggish approach.
After repeated urgings, he finally strode towards her, stripping off his clothes as he went.
He had no intention of taking her sowhere private—to him, slaves were no better than animals from the mont they were branded and he saw no reason to hide his actions from livestock.
In fact, if any slaves showed fear or horror at the sight, it only fueled his excitent, spurring him to perform with even greater vigor than usual.
When the woman caught sight of the soldier's half-naked body, the last vestiges of her resistance crumbled.
With a desperate sob, she turned to flee in the opposite direction.
But the whip-wielding man had anticipated this.
Blocking her path, his face twisted into a snarl.
"You damned slave! I'll make sure you're placed at the very bottom of the pile, drowning in filth every single day! Get back there now, or else I'll—"
His threat was cut short as a brilliant light erupted from the soldier's body, accompanied by the acrid stench of burning flesh.
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