Mog was escorted through a dark and narrow tunnel, only illuminated by the torchlight of the thug. The tunnel was circular and was made out of large stones in the shape of blocks. Occasionally, Mog could spot a hole in the ceiling, most likely a ventilation hole. Mog could tell that this so-called dark auction has been running for a long while now.

While walking, Mog silently prayed for Veona, the goddess of luck, to give himself even the smallest bit of luck in this time of great misfortune. He knew that his life and future depended on luck now.

As they walked, the thug started to speak, "Listen, dirt-blood, If you sell for a higher price, my commission will also be higher, so I will give you some advice. Because you have average looks and have some muscles on you, the brothel owners won't look at you while the pit-fighting bosses will. The more confidence you show, the more likely they will view you as a fighter, the more they will vie for you, and the more likely you will end up with a pit-fighting boss that will look at you with more favor. Although the chances are low, you might still be able to survive the pits and become a gladiator in the coliseum when you reach 18. If you become an arena champion, you will even have a bright future ahead of you; Glory, Fame, Money, Good Food and Wine, Women, and, of course, your Freedom. All of these will be within your reach.

The other options... Are far uglier. If you are unlucky, you will be sent to the mines for life, with no chance of escape. If you are even unluckier, you will be used as live bait for some monsters. The unluckiest thing I know of is being used as a toy by those sadistic nobles and getting cannibalized. In any case, these cases only happen to meek or low-value slaves. As long as your value crosses a certain threshold, they won't vie for you."

The thug went through the carrot and stick approach. The carrot is the chance for a better life, and the stick is certain doom. Normally, such an approach wouldn't even put a dent on Mog. However, he knew that he was in a bad situation. Regardless of the motive, he knew he should listen to it.

Mog nodded at the thug and said, "Thanks for the advice."

The thug gave him a cold side glance, as if looking at a pile of shit, and said, "Don't thank me, dirt-blood. As I said, I am getting more commission from you selling for more."

After that, they kept walking in silence while Mog continued his prayer. As they walked, they began hearing the sounds of people clamoring and shouting.

By the time they reached the area, they heard a loud voice, "Calling 19.700 once! Calling 19,700 twice! SOLD 19,700 to number 3!"

The thug snorted, "Hmph, seems like that filthy orc lucked out. Number 3 is one of our VIPs and a good pit-fighting boss. And from the price, that orc will likely be treated as a valuable property."

Mog knew that what the thug said was true. A normal adult male slave cost up to 1,000 silvers if he was premium goods. Child slaves usually cost less due to upkeep and being less able than adults. Since Latagu was sold for such a high price, he will be valued highly and nurtured, unlike disposable cannon fodder. That said, he was still in danger, but he had higher prospects.

The thug then told Mog, "Alright, dirt-blood. You will be up soon. Try and put up a tough front and pray to Veona that you will get a good master. The higher your price, the more I will earn, so good luck."

Mog silently nodded and stepped forward. A pretty and young human female slave wearing see-through dancer clothes, an expensive product of the Sa'anite dessert people to the far west, stopped him.

She said emotionlessly and expressionlessly, "Ok, dirt-blood. When I bring you in, you will follow me like a chick and stand in that circle over there and face the crowd. If I tell you to spin, you will spin slowly. If I tell you to strip, you will strip. And no funny business. You know what will happen if you do." She glanced at Mog's chest, his slave crest.

Mog nodded understandingly. As a Lamarian, he knew crystal clear what would happen. The moment he even thinks about resisting, he will feel pain equivalent to his resistance from the mark. If he defies an order from the master, the pain would be excruciatingly painful. He already once saw a slave who ended up spasming on the floor and frothing after refusing an order. Mog had no illusion that he will end differently if he refused.

After confirming Mog understood, the slave girl signaled the auctioneer, a fat human wearing a white silken tunic, an orange toga, and a golden sash.

The fat auctioneer nodded and announced, "Noble guests of our humble establishment, the last item of today's auction is here!"

The slave girl coldly and expressionlessly told Mog, "Follow my orders and be mute. Let's go."

Her face, which was cold and expressionless, suddenly transformed into the warmth of summer as she smiled brightly and brought Mog unto the stage from behind the scenes. Mog kept praying to Veona in his heart, hoping that he gets a good owner...

 

 

 

Around two hours ago, in VIP room 2 inside the dark auction...

Amulius Pompilius Senecio. A man without talent save for one. He had a set of eyes to analyze people and their hidden status, called Status Analysis Eyes. Status Analysis Eyes was an incredibly uncommon talent, even rarer than magic talents. Only 1 in a thousand had the basic talent for it. Less than 1 in ten thousand had intermediate talent. 1 In a million barely had the advanced talent for it, comparable to an advanced reading stone. As for the perfect talent? He was the only one in the entire Lamarian empire. Nobody knew he had it since he hid it well, in fear of being enslaved or assassinated himself.

He was originally born as a plebian, a thirdborn talentless son of a high-class merchant family. Being a thirdborn son, at the age of 8, his family sent him to a not-so-rich sonless slave merchant family to be adopted and marry one of their daughters. When he reached the age of 14, his talent awakened. He saw the status of people and animals alike, including his own, perfectly. It was then that his fate changed.

Using his talent, he selected the most talented slaves that went through his family and raised them to become powerful experts under his command, earning him incredible sums of money and power.

From a plebian Bottom-feeder slave trader, he became an aristocratic patrician and economic mogul. If and when a slave under his command became strong to a certain point, he released them in exchange for an oath of secrecy to the god of Judgement Damaq and not harming him and his family. That was how he not only had a powerful private army and wealth, he even got many powerful people who were indebted to him.

He was also the only mortal man in the entire empire who could speak with the powerful demigod emperor of the empire on equal grounds. As long as he willed it, he could summon the aide of over a dozen demigods. It could be said that, in terms of power, he held power only eclipsed by the emperor himself.

Now, as a 73-years-old ordinary man at the evening of his life, he already stopped screening for talents actively. Only rarely did he go. Even then, he wouldn't bother going into such a shady place like the dark auction, but one of his old friends dragged him there to browse for an exotic and talented female slave for his 10-years-old great-grandsons' birthday. He only agreed to it because he was looking for a slave for his 12-years-old great-granddaughter himself, however.

Although others didn't know he had perfect Status Analysis Eyes, they knew he had an eye for talent. Even if they knew, some of the people indebted to him were demigods. Nobody would mess with him.

Sitting together at VIP seat number 2, they checked the special catalog that was given by the auction house. Inside it was an advanced reading of every item in the auction.

After scanning the list, an aged, overweight, and black-skinned man wearing a red toga and a golden wreath over his wigged head, who sat comfortably on a cushioned seat, and was served by a beautiful and smiling blond elf slave some grapes, asked, "So, what do you think, old Amulius? Anything caught your legendary eyes?"

Taking his eyes off the catalog, Amulius, an equally aged man with completely average looks, wearing a red toga, and held the aura of an average man, sat down on another cushioned seat as he shook his head, "I don't know, Potitus. You know that I need to see them for myself to decide, isn't that right, Ahab?"

A magnetic and powerful yet stoic voice sounded behind Amulius, "Master is right. Master can only know once he sees them personally."

Behind Amulius stood a middle-aged man wearing super heavy imperial Centurian armor made out of orichalcum and mithril, covering almost his entire body. The man was not human, however. Large canine ears grew on his exposed head, and a long and furry grey wolf tail grew on his backside. The whites of his eyes were golden and his pupils and iris' were pitch black. His hands and legs had some fur sticking out too, and his hands had long claws.

He was a full-blooded beastkin of the grey wolf clan, Ahab. Although he looked middle-aged, he was as old as Amulius but remained young because of his high level. He was also nicknamed Amulius's loyal guard dog since he served Amulius from the very beginning until now. Even though he was free, he still served Amulius with zealous loyalty, swearing to protect him and his family until the end. Amulius had a few other loyal death sworn guards like him, but Ahab was the closest one.

Amulius sighed as he glanced at Ahab, "Ahab, my good old friend, I told you to call me Amulius..."

Ahab remained just as stoic as he said, "Is that your order, master?"

Amulius had a bitter smile and said while waving his hand, "Forget it, forget it, I can't change an old bull like you."

"As you say, master."

Potitus, who saw this third-rate shtick, laughed since he was already used to it, "Hahahaha, Old Amulius, don't try and change how he addresses you. If he wants to call you master, then just let him continue calling you master."

Amulius let out a bitter chuckle and left things at that.

Amulius and Potitus had something in common with each other, which was why they got along well. They both saw other people and races as equal. Whether it be an orc or a human, a slave, or an aristocrat, all of them were just people. Although Amulius and Potitus both had slaves, they were, by far, the fairest and most benevolent slave owners in the empire, to the point where many freed slaves wished to continue working for them. Amulius was even the one who petitioned for a few of the current non-human and slave rights in the empire, like the right for a slave to complain about their master to the court and that the master was not allowed to torture a slave for fun.

He tried to allow non-humans to enter positions of power more easily, but he was met with strong resistance from the human supremacist groups. There were even a few attempts on his life because of that, but Ahab and his other guards protected him well.

Amulius asked Potitus curiously, "Potitus, why did you have to go drag us to this shady place? There are better places than this, you know."

Potitus rolled his eyes, "Those are official places. If I buy a slave from those places, will the slave I buy be truly thankful to me for buying her? I am looking for loyalty. What better way to gain loyalty than to be fished out from the brink of despair? Isn't that right, Tanulia?"

Tanulia, the blond elf slave, gave a bright smile as she said, "Master Potitus is wise."

She then gave a complicated and melancholic glance at the stage below. She remembered when she thought she was going to become a prostitute or dinner to some rich psycho. Luckily, 10 years ago, her master saved her on time. Not only was she not forced to do sexual favors, but she was also treated fairly and was taken care of better than when she was a freedwoman! This earned her full loyalty.

Amulius shook his head and didn't comment on it. What his friend was doing was adding charcoal into the fire that ran this shady place. But at least the slaves he bought were happy, so it wasn't all too bad...

Just then, they both heard a voice from the stage below.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Honorable guests of this humble establishment! I, Flavius Turullius Naso, will be your humble auctioneer!"

"Finally, it's starting!" - Potitus said as he gazed at the equally rotund man on the stage.

"Let's just hope we didn't come in vain." - Amulius said, not having high expectations.

The auctioneer then continued, "I shall not waste your valuable time, so let us begin! First up, we have article #1, a handsome half-elf boy!"

The auctioneer brought a blond half-elf boy wearing only a loincloth on stage.

Elves, in general, had beautiful and mystical looks; Long ears, smooth and flawless skin, misty and dreamy eyes, and are completely hairless and smooth except for their head, eyelashes, and eyebrows. They had no beard or other facial hair.

Half-elves shared some of these traits, being hairless and smooth-skinned and having pointy ears. Their eyes were also human, instead of being misty and dreamy, and while their skin was smooth, it usually had blemishes and flaws.

The poor half-elf was guided onto a red circle in front of the audience. Once he stepped inside, a large projection of him was displayed in the air. It was a magical formation that mages used.

Amulius, in the meantime, stared at the half-elf without blinking his eyes. Status Analysis Eyes had a special restriction. He needed to maintain constant eye contact on the target for 15 seconds, or the analysis would fail.

After 15 seconds, he closed his eyes again, taking in the information he had just received.

When Amulius saw the talent, he shook his head. The cooking talent was common. Although a restaurant owner might appreciate having this kid work for him as a chef, it wasn't that big of a deal.

By this time, the auctioneer forced the terrified half-elf to strip and slowly circle, letting all the people present appraise the kid as if he was livestock.

It was these inhuman parts that made Amulius extremely uncomfortable with slavery as a whole. While some might call him a bigot or a hypocrite, he still believed that slavery was wrong at its core. He knew that slavery was crucial to running not just the empire but many parts of the world, but he still hoped that slaves would have more humane conditions in the future, however.

As he was thinking these things to himself, the auction came to life as the bidding started.