Slaves.

  They were those bound by magic collars, designed to enforce absolute obedience. The moment a command was issued by their master, no matter how immoral or self-destructive, the slaves were compelled to comply. Resistance triggered a searing electrical shock, not fatal, but painful enough to serve as a relentless reminder that their wills no longer belonged to them.

  People of all races could be found in chains. Some were criminals repaying for their crimes. Others had been crushed beneath the weight of insurmountable debt. And some had been sold by their own families, not out of malice, but desperation to reduce a mouth to feed.

  In the Arkavia Kingdom, slavery was not illegal. As long as the proper documentation was filed, the practice remained perfectly legitimate in the eyes of the law. But the line between legal and illegal was a smudged one, riddled with corruption and loopholes.

  A person could be kidnapped, sold at a discount to a bribed slave merchant, and with the right coin, that merchant would draft falsified papers and submit them to the kingdom's officials. The government, overwhelmed and indifferent, rarely scrutinized the details. A stamp was all it took to turn an abducted victim into a lawful slave.

  By the time any irregularities were discovered, if they ever were, the slaves had often been sold off to unsuspecting buyers. And the law, conveniently, did not permit authorities to punish buyers who had purchased slaves through “legal” channels, regardless of how tainted those documents might have been.

  Though the kingdom turned a blind eye to such practices, the Stelluna household had taken a firm stance. Within their territories, slave merchants were strictly forbidden from operating. As a result, few of the townsfolk in Selini or Stellar had ever encountered a slave, let alone owned one.

  That made it all the more shocking when the Stelluna lord announced a one-time slave auction to be held in Selini.

  The moment the decree was issued, waves of slave merchants swarmed into the town, drawn by the promise of profit. With Stelluna's past aversion to slavery, the event was bound to attract a large crowd of potential buyers, nobles, townsfolk, mercenaries alike, whether curious or desperate for rare acquisitions.

  It was made clear, however, that this was a single exception. Once the auction concluded, the merchants were expected to leave, and the Stelluna territories would return to their former policy.

  At first, Cryssa had asked her sister, Lyra, to help her purchase a few specific slaves. But when she explained that her goal wasn’t just security or service, but to find rare individuals from her “dream prophecy”, Lyra’s approach changed completely.

  Instead of quietly seeking out a handful of candidates, Lyra decided to host the auction herself. It would be faster, more efficient, and most importantly, it would cast a wider net. The more slaves available in one place, the greater the chance that Cryssa would find someone who matched the fragments of vision that had haunted her dreams.

  In Dream Land Online, there were no slaves, at least not in the early game and not beyond the starting town. Yet scattered throughout the ravaged lands were survivors, many of whom were believed to be former slaves.

  Abandoned or freed by circumstance, or by chance, they had clawed their way to power, enduring alone through countless battles with monsters. Some even became legends.

  Ayla remembered their stories and faces through screenshots, videos, and threads in the forum. Lone wanderers who defied death, carving out legends in blood. Although she didn’t know exactly whether they were former slaves in the game, she was sure that at least some of them were former slaves.

  Lyra gave her permission to participate in the auction directly, placing no limit on the funds she could use. Cryssa was free to bid as she saw fit, with one simple condition:

  Every slave she purchased had to be female.

  Lyra never offered an explanation, but Cryssa didn’t need one.

  She understood.

  So did Ayla.

  It wasn’t just caution… but it was trauma.

  The betrayal in Lyra’s life had come from men. Her father’s trusted aides. Her uncle, who sparked the civil war. Her late husband. The thousands of knights who followed her uncle’s banner… all men.

  Cryssa herself carried similar scars. And even little Roxy, though too young to articulate it, had likely been shaken by what she’d seen.

  Ayla, in her quiet way, understood as well. Though her trauma came from another life entirely, one where men had ended her existence in the most brutal way imaginable, she too found comfort in the idea of safety among women.

  So when Lyra made the condition, Cryssa didn’t hesitate to agree.

  A grand wooden stage had been erected in the heart of Selini’s public square, now overflowing with people. Lanterns burned overhead, casting warm glows against the darkening sky as voices buzzed in anticipation. The audience was divided by status. Nobles lounged in the frontmost rows, their seats cushioned and close enough to inspect every detail of the merchandise. Behind them, the commoners crowded into the higher, less comfortable tiers, straining to glimpse the spectacle.

  At the very center of the front row sat Cryssa, unmistakable in her position as the younger sister of the host herself.

  A booming voice echoed across the square, amplified by magic.

  “Welcome, everyone, to the largest slave auction in the history of the Arkavia Kingdom!”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Thunderous applause and cheers erupted from the audience, filling the air with excitement and tension.

  “As you’ve seen in the catalogs provided, over three hundred slaves will be auctioned over the next three nights!”

  The sheer number was no surprise. Lyra hadn’t placed any restrictions on how many slave merchants could participate, so they had come in droves, each bringing as many ‘wares’ as they could transport.

  Each guest held a slim catalog, a booklet printed hastily on parchment but neatly organized. The listings were sparse: name (if known), race, age, physical condition, and the starting bid price. That was all most buyers needed to begin their judgment.

  “For tonight’s auction, we’ve selected the lowest-priced slaves to start us off. If you’ve come with a limited purse, this is your golden opportunity!”

  A ripple of reactions moved through the crowd. Nobles murmured their disappointment as tonight wouldn’t be the night for rare beauties or exotic warriors.

  Instead, they’d be starting with the lowest of the low. Children, the sick or disfigured, and the cursed. Slaves who, in noble eyes, held little value.

  But the commoners responded differently. Many straightened up with keen interest. Even a frail slave could be useful for simple tasks like cleaning, carrying goods, and tending fires. And at a low enough price, any pair of hands was better than none.

  Cryssa remained still, scanning the stage with quiet focus. She knew these early offerings were unlikely to contain anyone from her visions. But she also knew better than to underestimate appearances.

  Strength, after all, didn’t always come in obvious packages.

  The auctioneer gestured dramatically as the first slave was brought forward.

  “Our opening lot: a human boy from the slums. Convicted of theft, he stole a loaf of bread. Starting bid: five copper coins!”

  The boy was led forward in chains, barely more than skin and bones. His clothes hung in tatters, and one of his arms was missing below the shoulder. Whether it had been taken as punishment or lost in some earlier misfortune, no one cared to ask. He kept his eyes on the floor.

  The bidding began at once.

  “Six copper coins!”

  “Seven!”

  “Twenty copper coins!”

  The boy was sold quickly.

  “Twenty copper coins once, twice, thrice… sold! Congratulations to buyer number 87!”

  The crowd clapped politely, and the auction rolled onward.

  Slave after slave was led across the stage, many of them limping, coughing, or blindfolded to hide damaged eyes.

  Some drew bids, especially those who could still perform manual labor. Others returned to the holding pens unsold, deemed worthless even to the poorest of buyers.

  Through it all, Cryssa and Ayla sat in silence, their eyes sharp and searching.

  So far, none of the faces sparked recognition. None of the names rang familiar. No flicker of magic or fate stirred within their chests.

  The right ones hadn’t come yet.

  Not until the very last.

  “Now presenting the final slave of the night!”

  All eyes turned to the stage as a young woman was led into the light. She moved with a quiet dignity, her bare feet barely making a sound on the wooden boards. Despite the tattered state of her clothes and the visible signs of malnourishment, a ripple of surprise and intrigue passed through the audience.

  She was breathtaking.

  Her hair, though tangled and dulled by grime, still held the faded luster of ocean-blue waves, like a forgotten gemstone buried in ash. Even under the dim lantern glow, hints of its original brilliance glimmered through the dirt and disarray. Her eyes, a deep and stormy blue, held a distant melancholy that made it hard to look away. Her features were delicate but sharp. High cheekbones, a slender nose, and full lips that trembled slightly under the weight of so many gazes.

  She stood with one arm missing, her left side ending just above the elbow, but even that couldn’t detract from her ethereal beauty. If anything, it gave her an aura of quiet resilience, of tragedy wrapped in grace.

  “She’s a twenty-year-old human.”

  The auctioneer announced.

  “Born without a left arm. She became a slave just a year ago, after her family fell into crushing debt.”

  A stir ran through the crowd. Even the nobles, who had scoffed at earlier offerings, now leaned forward. A few commoners exchanged looks, murmuring beneath their breath.

  The auctioneer raised a hand for silence.

  “But I won’t deceive you. In just one year, this girl has had seven different masters. Five died mysteriously while she was under their service. The other two… Their families perished instead. Because of that, she has been branded as a cursed slave.”

  A collective inhale rippled through the square.

  The auctioneer pressed on, voice rising with drama.

  “Still, as you can see, she’s a rare beauty. So despite the curse, her starting bid will begin at ten silver coins!”

  This time, the murmurs were full of dread and hesitation. Even greed had its limits. No noble was willing to risk death for fleeting beauty, and commoners couldn’t afford to gamble with their lives.

  "Is there no bid?"

  The auctioneer called.

  “I'll count. One. Two. Thr—”

  "One gold coin."

  The voice rang out clear and calm, cutting through the tension like a knife.

  Heads turned instantly toward the front.

  Cryssa sat unmoved, her expression unreadable. One hand rested on the polished armrest of her chair. Her bid had been casual, almost bored, but there was no mistaking the weight behind it.

  One gold coin.

  Ten times the starting price. For a cursed slave no one else dared to touch.

  Gasps broke out across the crowd. Whispers surged through the seats like wind through dry leaves. Even the auctioneer stood frozen for a breath, stunned by the unexpected bid.

  On stage, the girl’s head turned slowly toward the source of the voice.

  Her dark blue eyes widened, not with fear, but with quiet astonishment.

  For the first time that night, her blank expression cracked, revealing a flicker of disbelief, maybe even hope.

  She stared directly at Cryssa, as if trying to understand why someone would choose her.

  The auctioneer continued with professionalism.

  “One gold coin once! One gold coin twice! One gold coin thrice!”

  “Sold! To buyer number one!”

  The gavel fell with finality.

  No one knew why she had done it. Why she risked so much. But Ayla, floating behind her, knew.

  Because that thin, beautiful, and broken girl wasn’t just anyone.

  She was the one.

  The first legendary mage NPC discovered by Ayla herself in Dream Land Online.

  The one who had transformed her from an ordinary Frostina into a player worthy enough to be called the Frozen Witch.

  Her teacher.

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