Aaron's suggestion in the main hall drew an appraising look from his father, Count Vicente. In the end, the count merely nodded. "Very well, Aaron. Go investigate this black market organization. If you bring back valuable information, it will be an opportunity to prove your abilities."
Aaron gave a slight bow, his face calm and composed, though his mind was already working out his plans. As he exited the hall, Leon placed a hand gently on his shoulder, a touch of concern in his gaze. "Be cautious; the black market is dangerous."
Aaron nodded, but his heart remained unshaken. Once a master of forbidden arts at the peak of legendary rank, he knew the operations and power struggles of the black market all too well. Beneath its surface, dark currents flowed, yet it harbored boundless opportunities.
Outside Vicente Manor, the night streets lay quiet, with moonlight casting a frosty glow over the cobbled paths. Aaron donned a dark cloak, shrouding his face in shadow. He moved deftly through a few deserted alleys until he arrived at an unassuming stone house.
This was the entrance to the underground black market. The house appeared ordinary from the outside, but Aaron caught faint rune traces glimmering in the light of the red lantern by the door. He pushed the door open and murmured, "I'm here for the seeds of the Night Flower."
Behind the door, a man with sharp, hawk-like eyes nodded with a knowing smile, then opened the door further, gesturing for Aaron to descend a winding staircase. As he descended, the whispers and clamor grew louder, with the ground vibrating under the clangs of iron and calls of merchants.
The heart of the black market lay in a vast underground plaza, illuminated by magical lanterns. Stalls brimmed with strange and rare items: blood-stained weapons, glowing magical scrolls, and even small demons caged for sale. An assortment of figures roamed the plaza—wizards, mercenaries, and even young nobles—each with a predatory glint in their eyes.
Moving silently through the crowd, Aaron directed his gaze to the slave trading area on the plaza's edge. Whip cracks and slavers' shouts mingled with cries for mercy and sobbing. Cages held various beings—humans, beastmen, and even winged folk—who were treated as mere commodities, sold without dignity.
Aaron scanned the slaves, and a memory from his past surfaced—a half-elf who had escaped slavery to become one of the continent's top rangers. Her name was Arna, the ranger general who had unleashed chaos in the wars of his past life.
"I've found you." Aaron's gaze settled on a girl curled up in a worn iron cage. Her slender, pointed ears revealed her elven heritage. Even though her face was dirtied, her fierce purple eyes sparkled with a wild and unyielding spirit.
"Come look, fine quality here!" The slaver banged on the cage, his voice coarse and leering. "Half-elf slave girl, pure blood, wild and untamed. Satisfaction guaranteed!"
The crowd murmured, many entranced by her exotic beauty, though none seemed to realize her true potential. Aaron's lips curled in a slight smile; he knew Arna was far more than a pretty trinket. She was an uncut gem.
"I'll take this slave," Aaron said, stepping forward with a calm tone, subtly revealing a ring with the Vicente family crest on his finger. The slaver's eyes flashed with a hint of fear, and he quickly replied with obsequious flattery, "Ah, a discerning choice, my lord! She's rare indeed."
"Name your price," Aaron's voice was low, carrying a commanding edge.
"Ah…five thousand gold coins." The slaver's tone was greedy, but the sharp look in Aaron's eyes made his throat tighten.
"Two thousand five hundred, depending on her obedience," Aaron replied evenly, his words as unyielding as steel.
The slaver hesitated, glancing at the other customers and then at Aaron's ring. At last, he relented, "Deal!"
Aaron nodded, tossing a bag of coins to the slaver. The iron cage creaked open, and Arna lifted her head, her gaze meeting Aaron's with a cold glare. There was no gratitude in her eyes, only hidden anger and defiance.
"What's your name?" Aaron asked, looking down at her, his voice low and indifferent.
"Arna," she replied, her voice hoarse yet filled with a hint of defiance.
Aaron's eyes glimmered with satisfaction. He understood that her defiance would become his greatest weapon in the future. He didn't mind her anger and mistrust; time and training would make her see that, under his guidance, she could accomplish far more than she ever imagined.
He gestured to a nearby attendant to remove Arna's restraints, then spoke in a low voice, "From now on, you follow me. I'll show you that your fate holds far more than you think." Uncertainty flashed in Arna's eyes, but wariness remained her dominant expression.