Auction (1): The Road to the Empire
The road to the empire. How many years had it been? Five? Or was it six?
I was fifteen when they locked me away in the Magic Tower and ran every experiment they could think of on me for three years. By the time I turned eighteen, the tower had thrown me out. Along with the verdict that no matter what they tried, my mana grade could never be raised. After that I scraped by as a mercenary, using the handful of minor spells I’d picked up inside those walls.
My mana pool was so pathetic that attack magic was completely out of the question. That’s what Grade 1 mana gets you. I couldn’t even use the lowest-grade spells properly. The only thing I could manage was buff-type magic that barely sipped at my reserves.
I never tried to raise my grade with the money I earned from mercenary work. If the head of the Imperial Magic Division and the tower master himself had failed despite using every rare material the tower possessed, there was no point in a broke mercenary pouring his measly savings into the same black hole. It would just be throwing good money after bad.
So I looked for another way. A path that would let someone like me actually do something with magic. It seemed like such a waste otherwise. After all, I possessed Grade 13 magical talent.
It took ten days to reach the empire. Even then, I still had another five days before I reached the capital, so I kept pushing forward without rest.
The place I needed to visit was obvious: the Imperial Labor Administration Auction Division. A fancy name for what was ultimately a slave auction house—one run directly by the empire itself. There were private auction houses too, but they were strictly illegal. Since I was about to spend a serious amount of money, I wasn’t about to do anything stupid.
Five more days of hard travel brought me at last to Pades, the imperial capital of the Norka Empire.
Whoa. It didn’t look like much had changed. Though the feeling was completely different. The last time I left this city I’d been drowning in hopelessness and gloom. Not anymore. Now I had money, a plan, and hope. So I would do everything in my power to make sure this bright new expectation didn’t shatter into pieces.
First I secured lodging. After years of staying in the cheapest, smelliest rooms in rundown inns, stepping into a proper establishment felt strange. How could a room cost more than ten times as much? Then I saw the facilities and understood perfectly. A private bathroom inside the room? I was sold.
With my accommodations sorted, I headed straight for the Imperial Labor Administration Auction Division to inspect the current stock.
What I needed was a beastperson slave. Beastpeople—those with animal traits. And it absolutely had to be a slave. Only then could I make full use of my Berserker magic.
Berserker was incredible. It boosted muscle strength, raw power, agility, reflexes—every physical ability you could name. On top of that, my magic talent was Grade 13, so the version I cast was on an entirely different level from anything an ordinary mage could produce.
But Berserker had two fatal flaws. Two reasons why no one used it anymore. Two problems that seemed impossible to overcome.
The first was that it destroyed the body. Once Berserker took hold, the target felt no pain. A broken arm? They’d keep fighting. A shattered leg? They’d keep moving. Even with holes punched through their torso, they’d fight on until they dropped dead.
The second was that it completely erased any ability to distinguish friend from foe. Everything in sight became a target. That included allies, who would be torn apart by a body suddenly enhanced to monstrous levels.
But there was a solution for the second problem: Slave Restraints. A slave wearing those restraints could never attack their master. That was literally what they were designed to prevent.
It would have been perfect if I could cast the control magic on the restraints myself. I probably could, in theory. The only issue was the mana cost. My own mana was only Grade 1, after all.
That was why I planned to buy a beastperson slave. Beastpeople were already blessed with superior physical strength. Add the Slave Restraints they wore, and I could cast Berserker on them without hesitation. I would be completely safe from them, and if they ever fell into danger I could cancel the spell instantly.
That was my grand plan.
Even with my weak body, Berserker had let me hunt Grade 6 magic beasts. If I put it on a beastperson instead? Their already transcendent physique would probably let them rip those monsters apart bare-handed.
Tsk. I couldn’t wait to try it. Maybe I could even take down Grade 7 or Grade 8 beasts without much trouble. That kind of income would be more than enough. I could live without ever worrying about money again. And once that was settled, I could move on to the next stage of my plan—finding a way to use real magic despite this pathetic mana pool.
I just needed a good specimen. So I made my way to the Imperial Labor Administration Auction Division, searching for the beastperson who would become my limbs.
“What? There aren’t any beastperson listings at all?”
“I’m terribly sorry, sir.”
The auction house attendant could only offer apologies. It was so absurd that I checked the catalog myself, but the result was the same. Not that they would have told me there were none if I could have verified it so easily…
My very first step had already hit a wall. The feeling was unpleasant. Worse, this wasn’t a problem I could solve with my own power. If the prices were simply high or the competition fierce, I could have found a workaround. But this was a situation entirely outside my control.
So I left the auction house and headed for the city’s back alleys—the best place to gather information. Reliability would be an issue, but I could listen to multiple sources and cross-check everything.
I knew the ecosystem of these alleys well enough, so I walked straight into the most promising-looking pub. Not every pub dealt in information. You needed a hardworking bartender with wide connections for that. I sat at the bar and ordered something fairly expensive. The bartender immediately served me with a friendly smile.
The liquid was a pale blue. It looked decent. The real question was the taste.
“Oh.”
“Does it suit your palate?”
The bartender had a rather magnificent mustache. His build suggested he knew how to handle himself. It was surprising that someone who looked so rugged could make a drink like this. They didn’t seem to match at all.
“It’s excellent. First time I’ve had anything like it. Definitely worth the price.”
I took another sip. The bartender kept wiping glasses but never took his attention off me.
“Ah, I have a question. Has Zarnimo closed down? I stopped by and the place was shut.”
“It must have been a while since your last visit. Zarnimo closed more than half a year ago.”
“Hmm. That’s inconvenient. Who am I supposed to ask now?”
I muttered it half to myself, but the bartender caught my meaning immediately.
“Is there something you’d like to know?”
It wasn’t exactly a subtle approach, but there was no real need to be subtle. I placed a 100 marca imperial white copper coin on the counter and slid it toward him.
“Let’s have another glass of the same. I’ll drink it next time I come by.”
“As you wish, sir.”
The bartender took the coin. Having received his information fee, he would now share what he knew—at least, whatever was worth about a hundred marca.
“I wanted to buy a beastperson slave, but I hear the Imperial Labor Administration Auction Division no longer handles them.”
“A beastperson slave, you say. Hmm. Male or female?”
“Male, obviously.”
The bartender set down the glass he’d been polishing and pushed the coin back toward me.
“You’ll have to settle the tab next time.”
Returning money that had already been paid? From one of these cutthroat information brokers? It could only mean he had no answer to give. He didn’t even have any half-useful scraps to offer.
Ha. Was it really that bad? What the hell was going on? Were there truly no beastperson slaves left in the entire empire?
“Keep it. But tell me—why are there suddenly no beastperson listings? Especially here in the empire?”
“It’s only natural. His Imperial Majesty has forbidden the hunting of beastpeople.”
“The Emperor himself?”
This was news to me. Why would the emperor do that? Had he lost his mind? The empire was giving up beastperson hunting?
“Two months ago, a divine oracle descended. The exact contents are unknown, but afterward His Majesty prohibited all beastperson hunting.”
That was also the first I’d heard of it. An oracle? Why hadn’t I caught wind of something so important? Ah. Two months ago… I had been completely occupied hunting magic beasts in the Dawson Kingdom. No wonder the news never reached me.
“So that’s why there are no listings?”
“Exactly. Once hunting was banned, everyone rushed to buy up the remaining beastpeople. Prices have skyrocketed as well.”
This was terrible timing. How could my luck be this rotten? There was no solution in sight.
Private transactions were technically possible, but not recommended. Beastpeople were useful in countless ways—their natural strength, endurance, and tough constitutions made them valuable to mercenary companies and many other industries. Even those with low combat ability could at least serve as porters.
Besides, beastpeople were a demi-human race. If someone was willing to sell one now, the odds were high that the individual had some kind of flaw. Or the seller would demand two or three times the normal price. Right now, anyone who still owned a beastperson held all the cards.
“So you’re saying it’s impossible to obtain one.”
“I’m afraid I have nothing more to tell you. And I cannot return the money.”
The bartender’s expression was dead serious. That meant there really was no answer. Damn. This was looking hopeless.
But as I studied his face, I remembered something he’d said earlier. He had asked about gender. Wait… did that mean—
“What about female beastpeople?”
The bartender’s face brightened with a smile once more.
“Ah, if it’s a female, then I may still have a few things left to tell you.”
Sly bastard. Of course a bartender would play it like that.
I took another sip of the bluish liquor and listened as he continued his story.