The audience burst into cheers as the ogre defeated his drugged opponent. For a moment, even the ogre felt blessed and excited, as though he were everyone's champion.

He raised his enemy's head high, drawing even louder ovation. He planted a heel on the fallen chest and threw his shoulders back like a statue. Ropes of muscle stood out under oily skin, and steam curled from the blood on his forearms. He let the head tilt so that the severed hair trailed down his bicep like a banner.

Arena torches picked out every scar. He bellowed once, low and proud, and the sound rolled through the pit. The bronze collar bit into his neck as he threw back his head. For a heartbeat he looked less like property and more like a crowned brute. The crowd howled names for him: ogre, monster, champion, anything that let them belong to his victory, if only for a breath. He basked in it, thinking he might become something more than a slave soon!

Han clapped his hands once, his eyes cool.

Denver's eyes looked like coins.

Bellatrix looked around despite her blindfold, trying to read the mood from the sounds alone. She couldn't make much of it, so she turned to Han.

"Why so much cheering?" she asked.

"Our ogre exceeded everyone's expectations and made a fool of the drugged opponent. He basically slapped the drug distributors in the face, and I think many people here actually dislike this kind of dosage. More importantly, it was just cool." Han smiled.

Bellatrix's jaw tightened under the blindfold.

Cool? Him tearing through the flesh of a poor man forced to fight and desperate enough to take a foreign drug was cool? Really?

Han smiled. "But the most important point is that the Blood Mistress herself spoke about our slaves. That means she'll send someone to Denver, and I'll use that to get their backing. Let's enjoy the night a bit more before business comes."

Naturally, Bellatrix couldn't enjoy the night like the boys, so she stayed quiet and prayed for the slaves' lives and the victors' future. More battles followed, and Han's enhanced slaves stole the show, fulfilling the Arena Pit's main purpose: advertising the Auction House.

After the battles ended, Han and Denver headed to the gambling hall to pay out their bets. The two had won quite a lot thanks to their own slaves.

The gambling hall was a press of winners and losers. Winners moved loose and loud, showing teeth, clapping strangers on the back, purses suddenly heavy. Losers kept their shoulders tucked, voices thin, eyes on the floor. So much money changed hands today thanks to a few slaves that the women behind the desks never stopped moving. Their smiles never faded, and the way they handled coins looked like a magician's sleight of hand. The office-cut jackets framed tight lines as they leaned and turned, fabric pulling across chests and settling again with each reach. Sleeves rode to the forearm, throats gleaming with a damp sheen, hips kept an unhurried sway that made men linger and tip more than they meant to.

The lady handling Denver and Han's bets looked particularly excited. Poised and polished, her jacket drew snug when she leaned, and the easy curve of her smile smoothed tempers. Even the losers quieted and paid up faster.

"There's also a bonus for anyone who bet on the ogre who stole our hearts!" the woman behind the desk said as she handled the coins like a magician.

Denver rubbed his hands. "Really? How much?"

"Twenty-five percent of your bet for each enemy he defeated," the lady replied, her smile wide and professional.

Denver burst out laughing. "Haha! That's so great, that's so great!"

Han shared his happiness. We're both kind of broke, after all. Any coin is enough to make us laugh. Money first, questions later.

Han's friend was complacent; he didn't hide his money or show any worry about it. He was part of the Nevolnik, so it made sense, but Han suspected no one from this Dark Family would go the extra mile for him. That could be different now since he'd met him, but Han was still amazed at Denver's attitude.

He felt a few eyes on them and their money. Too many eyes for one purse. His maids were already on alert and ready to intercept anyone who came close to Han. Then they noticed a man in a black mask and a suit similar to Han's walking toward them. Their alertness spiked, then eased as the man reached for Denver.

"Denver. Milady wants a precise report about the slaves you pitted in the Arena Pit today. She'll sell them through the Auction House and wants to run extra bloodline checks. I trust you'll cooperate with us?" he asked, smiling.

His smile was anything but nice. Denver swallowed; his throat clicked.

Denver nodded fervently. "But of course!"

"We'll take over your carriage and escort it to the Auction House's warehouse. Milady wants reports as soon as possible, so be quick and come to the Auction House office by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. Got it?" the man asked.

"Yes, yes!" Denver nodded again.

With that, the man nodded back and turned around, leaving Han and Denver alone. The woman at the desk chuckled and whistled.

"You're raking it in, Denver!" she said, leaning over her desk toward him.

He laughed nervously. "Yeah! Need to work hard tonight! Good thing I didn't drink any alcohol!"

He turned to Han and signaled he needed help with the report. He was more nervous about Han's vision and what Han wanted to include. Denver could go wild with that report, but he preferred to cajole Han and keep this golden streak going.

Meanwhile, Bellatrix turned to the lady behind the desk. "Do you like this work?"

"You sound like someone from Awberg," the lady chuckled and straightened up. "But yeah, I do. It pays well and keeps me safe in this shithole with enough savings that I never run out of food. Could I ask for more? Yeah, I need to pay taxes and can't really avoid them like the whores and other idiots in other businesses, but it's not like I dream of escaping this place."

"What do you mean?" Bellatrix asked.

"Half of the population is born here; the other half is sent here from better villages or cities as punishment. We're all, in a way, tied to the Underworld and can become slaves or dead at a moment's notice. This Fortress creates a bubble that makes it look like we're living normal lives, but that's not the case. And if Nevolnik decides to use all of us for slavery, we'll be the meat shield if Awberg decides to step on them. See my point now?"

They called it safety; it sounded like a cage.

"I see…" Bellatrix replied weakly.

She understood that people here chose to side with evil to reduce the chances of being hurt or turned into slaves. Awberg had to keep up pretenses, and working for Nevolnik meant they would rather turn commoners trying to live their best lives into slaves or meat shields first. By now, she understood it well.

Han kept an ear perked to the conversation and learned more about the city's culture through it. For that reason, he didn't stop Bellatrix and let her speak her mind. If someone disliked it, he would punish her in front of everyone with Obsidian Cauldron, making it seem like he had used some kind of slavery spell on her.

And that would be enough, probably.

—

Han and Denver headed straight to their carriage. This time, neither of them sat in the driver's seat, and three maids took those spots. The other two maids stayed nearby to intercept anyone, and they could already see someone else keeping an eye on Denver. They reported it to Han. If they shadow Denver, they're testing me.

Han held his chin, thinking aloud. "Must be Nevolnik people or assassins gunning for me. Either way, we're on the main street now, and my clinic is close. If Nevolnik is smart, they'll put more Hounds around my clinic. For now, let's talk about your report."

"Yeah!" Denver straightened, even more than he had while talking to the Nevolnik messenger.

"You'll include me in your report. I'll tell you how much you can include," Han said.

Controlling Nevolnik and their people seemed impossible and something only an idiot would dare try. Han didn't think that way. He didn't want to control them all, but he had information and spells on hand. By controlling that information and limiting which spells he revealed, he would be able to control Nevolnik's presence over him.

"First, you'll write that I can 'find' talent in others, but only when it's spurred in their natural environment. To verify it, I must travel beyond this Fortress to scout candidates in situ," Han said, smiling.

That rule would keep Nevolnik from locking him in the Underworld and forcing him to evolve others instead of letting him spread his wings across the world!

I refuse the leash.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.