Chapter 30: Black Gold

Eugene Fordy's day began, as if in a novel, in a bedroom whose borders could not be seen at a glance.

"Are you maid number 71 or 72? Never mind, attend me."

The extravagant life that wealth can shape always tests the limits of human perception; as a local tyrant among local tyrants, he was poor in everything except, perhaps, money.

The slave market handled astronomical sums every day, and a man like him — so long as he did not overstep, for instance, privately swallowing some treasure specifically demanded by a big shot — could earn so much here that, spending only on money and wealth, it was nearly impossible to spend it all.

A three-digit number of servants, a mansion grand enough to make a count jealous, a bathtub at this moment large enough to raise fish, and a queue of young, beautiful maids outside — the life he lived was luxurious and utterly without restraint.

Only, it was still in the dock district, even within the slave market itself.

A man like him — let alone leaving Radiance City, even leaving the dock district was not permitted; the slave market's side residence was destined to be his entire life.

Sometimes, he would even question whether the one in the cage was the slave, or whether he himself outside the cage was—

"Mm, I'm not the prisoner. They are."

Early in the morning, having enjoyed a splendid "beast-fight" performance, watching the poor fellows torn into pieces by lions, he laughed very happily.

The dock district's slave market had long ceased to be a simple exchange.

Perhaps it was at first, but as demand and desire kept swelling, it had long since gradually gone off-flavor.

Inside the slave market, in a certain great hall, alias the Beast-Fight Club, a blood banquet had just been staged.

Outside the ring where the dead and the beasts stood, spectators' seats of every color and rank; the middle and back rows waved their betting slips and cursed the dead as trash.

And in the wall-side private boxes and the special front-row seats, the masked special audience enjoyed the thrill that blood and death brought.

Those usually respectable gentlemen and noble ladies did not, as in days past, mouth lofty moral platitudes.

Some covered their mouths with fans, eyes alight with excitement; others, while denouncing the immorality of the place, stared fixedly, eyes aglow, at the place where the blood flowed.

". Looks like the new act went well, though they seem to have grown a bit tired of beasts tearing apart human bodies."

"Perhaps we can spice it up — next time go to the underground ruins and fetch some magical beasts? Add a few betting options, bet on favorites—"

"Right, some maids have grown tired of it, and some have passed ten."

Every pleasure imaginable could be found here, but clearly not morality.

Even laws existed — after all, within the kingdom, the slave market was perfectly legal and compliant.

Under this system, the total slaves who had lost everything could not be counted as people; they were merely wealth in the form of Consumables.

When casting off morality and empathy could bring wealth and status, intelligent beings would display a startling lack of bottom and elasticity.

"Viscount Quinn is very fond of your new act; he has some slaves he doesn't want, and would like to take part as well."

"It is my honor." How could Eugene refuse an superior who sought entertainment?

"High Priest Kedar hopes you can keep an eye out for some new goods for him; the boy last time was nice, just too old — better a bit younger."

Younger? Wasn't last time already seven years old, this beast.

"It is my honor! Please tell him I certainly will, as soon as possible." Yet Eugene responded with great enthusiasm.

"Lieutenant Wendell asks whether you need some total slaves produced by the military; the consumption from your newly added beast-fight game must be quite large."

"Uh, hasn't there been no war lately?"

"No war doesn't mean no war-slaves. Some foolhardy backwater places actually dare not pay taxes — without taxes, how are our generals to keep their armies?"

The kingdom's chaos and depravity were always shown most plainly and starkly at the very bottom, where the sewage pooled.

Depravity was always all-encompassing, sliding toward the abyss from every direction.

"I am honored; I have a new inspiration. Perhaps we can stage a small theatrical war — let a fully armed knight face these tax-refusing rascals, and let our audience enjoy the show."

Wicked ideas that brought wealth — "Black Gold" Eugene Fordy never lacked them.

The slave market had developed to such a point, now enough to drag countless high-level figures in, and his vicious little brain was probably directly related.

This brought him boundless wealth and connections, but also trapped him within his own kingdom.

He knew too much — too much about the beasts-in-fine-clothes beneath the grand facades of those great personages.

If he tried to leave his kingdom, or prepared to retire, people would think he might leak something.

The mere possibility of him falling into a political enemy's hands was enough to make him vanish from the world.

He too was in a cage — only he rejoiced and was satisfied with this golden beast-cage.

Sometimes, he even felt he was very similar to the gang trash outside — both felt fine to use, but in idle moments, one would feel that merely standing on a stage in public was an unbearable filthy thing.

And thinking of gang members, he thought of that enthusiastic young fellow from yesterday.

Did he think Eugene couldn't see through the disguise beneath the excessive eagerness? But Eugene would not expose it — he very much enjoyed that enthusiasm.

Who among us is not a pretender wearing a mask? Who is not a hypocrite in this filthy world?

Suddenly, he recalled the new talk of the dock district — a "sublime" Classical Oath Holy Knight.

"He is, probably, truly a good man." Anyone who knew a little about Oath Knights would understand this ancient goodness.

But anyone could see that, as a degenerate bloodline, his power was waning — once he truly lost his power, he wouldn't need tigers or leopards to act; the wild dogs that hated him, feared him, or even perhaps envied him would tear him apart.

When everyone around is pitch black, you shining so brightly — doesn't it sting our eyes?

"Perhaps I should prepare a place for him in the cages here. A once-sublime Classical Holy Knight, torn apart by a pack of small-time hoodlums — many would pay to watch, I imagine."

"Right, that little fellow from yesterday seemed to have some connection with the Holy Knight. Heh, is that sublime one planning, after his power fades, to rely on small-time hoodlums like that for protection? How laughable. We'll see whether anyone places an order."

Eugene would not act on his own, unless there was profit — or, in other words, an order.

And judging by past experience, he believed there absolutely would be—perhaps some noblewoman wanting to try something new, perhaps a lurking heretic indulging in filthy rites, perhaps a collector, or perhaps simply someone trying to humiliate so-called justice and morality.

"Right, there's still an appointment today."

That pig dressed up like a human yesterday actually said he had a very valuable rarity, best auctioned off at a high price.

He said he would bring it today, for Eugene to appraise and inspect.

"Heh, dock district trash — what treasure could they have seen? Nothing but some shoddy Magical items and junk."

But very soon, he was slapped in the face — slapped in the face with utter delight.

"Blood of a Hero?! How is that possible?! That Holy Knight? No, that noble one?"

"Private dealings? Of course they need to be private; absolute secrecy is required."

He was seriously considering canceling a banquet with a certain noble, setting off immediately, and completing this deal that absolutely could not wait right now.

"Cavendish, Syl. Never mind, bring Syl along."

His two bodyguards were his protectors, and also the watchers of the slave market (and the people behind it) over him.

Hero's Blood is something that absolutely cannot enter the auction process; anyone who comes into contact with it might swallow it down at the first opportunity.

Touching this blood-red fragment the size of a pinky fingernail, feeling the pure life force it contained, Eugene revealed a joyful expression.

In this world, power represents not only wealth and status.

If relying on this to evolve into a stronger "species" also means a longer lifespan, who could refuse to live longer?

And bringing an extra bodyguard means having one more person to split the spoils with; even if the other party could only get a tiny bit, Eugene still felt regret.

But he dared not truly leave his bodyguards behind; those who wanted his head were probably more numerous than paladins.

"Seven o'clock tonight? Fine, tell your boss I will definitely arrive on time for the banquet."

That night, he appeared on time at the old mansion in the slums, and the big fool who opened the door for him looked somewhat simple-minded.

"Welcome, welcome." Li En, draped in an illusion, cheerfully greeted his prey.

(End of this chapter)