"Right this way, my lord!", the salesman panicked. He bowed at a perfect ninety degree angle. "Please follow me to our VIP viewing room. I’ll handle your request personally."

The salesman led them down a quiet carpeted hallway. He opened a heavy oak door and ushered them into a luxurious room filled with velvet couches and expensive wine.

"Make yourself comfortable. I’ll gather the stock immediately." The man rushed out and closed the door.

Adrian turned to Aria. She was sitting on a massive velvet couch with her legs dangling over the edge.

"Remember your promise," Adrian whispered. "Don’t talk. Just sit there and watch."

Aria nodded and grinned. She pulled her hood down slightly and crossed her arms, playing the role of a tiny, but very serious bodyguard.

A few minutes later, the door opened and the salesman walked in looking out of breath.

"My lord, the stock is lined up in the hallway, a total of forty knights. I can bring them all in at once if you wish."

"No, that’s too crowded," Adrian waved his hand. "Since you have forty knights, send them in groups of ten."

"Right away, my lord."

Ten men shuffled into the room wearing cheap, ragged clothes. Heavy iron collars wrapped tightly around their necks. They looked exhausted and defeated.

Adrian leaned forward and looked at the first man. "What grade of knight manual did you use to train?"

The slave looked surprised. "A low tier manual, my lord."

Adrian frowned. He looked at the next man. "And you?"

"Low tier, my lord."

Adrian went down the line. Every single one gave the exact same answer. They all formed their foundations using low tier manuals.

Adrian sighed and rubbed his temples. "Send in the next group."

The second group of ten walked in and the same question was met with the same answers. The process repeated for the third and fourth groups. Out of forty knight slaves, not a single one had trained with a mid tier or high tier manual.

Adrian felt a deep sense of disappointment. He needed strong fighters and these men were useless to him. Once a knight built their physical foundation with a low tier manual, their potential was permanently locked. Their bodies adapted to the flawed mana circulation. They could never learn a better technique.

He was looking for raw potential. He needed people who could eventually learn his mid to top tier manuals. These ruined knights would just explode if they tried to change their internal pathways now.

"I’m sorry," Adrian told the salesman as he stood up from the couch. "These men don’t meet my requirements. Their foundations are ruined. I won’t be buying any of them."

The salesman looked crushed. But he didn’t dare argue with a man holding a mana crystal.

"I understand, my lord," the salesman bowed. "Perhaps we’ll have better stock next month."

"I’ll come back later," Adrian said.

He waved for Aria to follow and they left the VIP room together. Adrian was already calculating other options in his head. Then something yanked on his pants.

He stopped and looked down, only to see that Aria had a death grip on his pant leg. She was pointing down a side hallway. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

Adrian turned to look.

A massive group of children huddled together on the cold stone while heavily armed guards paced around them. Maybe fifty kids in total. Thirteen to seventeen years old, tied together with thick ropes, bruised, filthy and crying.

They looked completely broken.

Adrian felt sick. He had seen slaves today, sure. But a pile of battered teenagers was different. He tried to look away. He told himself he couldn’t save the world. He was just a Baron trying not to die and keep his daughter safe. Waging war on a massive slavery ring over guilt and pity was stupid.

He took a step toward the exit, but Aria yanked harder.

Under her hood, Aria’s dark eyes scanned the crying teens as she recognized a few of them.

Helpless victims? Wrong, she saw a literal goldmine.

She spotted a scrawny boy with nasty burns on his arms. In her past life, that kid grew into the Mad Arsonist of the West. He burned armies to ash with a snap, a sixth circle mage who died before he could make a name for himself.

She saw a girl staring blankly at the wall. She was the future Phantom Blade, an assassin who took out three kings before hitting twenty.

At least five absolute monsters were sitting in that pile.

’Grab them now,’ Aria thought. A devious little grin crept onto her face. ’I get the strongest personal guard on the continent and they get to serve Papa. The stronger the guards, the more time he can spend with me.’

She looked up. The serious bodyguard act vanished as her lower lip quivered, eyes wide and glassy.

"Papa," Aria whispered, her voice cracking flawlessly. "Can we take them home? Please?"

Adrian froze as his brain’s logic completely stopped working.

He looked at the beaten kids and then looked at Aria’s teary eyes.

He couldn’t fight these guards. He knew he was being weak, but standing there like a coward in front of his daughter was not an option.

"Fine," Adrian muttered as he let out a heavy sigh.

He turned his back on the exit and walked straight toward the group of kids.

The salesman popped out of nowhere to block his path with his hands rubbing together and a polite smile glued to his face.

"Ah, my lord," the salesman said quickly. "Please excuse the mess. These slaves were just brought in, you see? They were captured from a border village during a recent military skirmish."

The salesman gestured to the crying kids like they were fresh produce.

"They were originally captured by another kingdom’s mercenary group," the salesman explained smoothly. "We just purchased the entire lot from them. I assure you, while they’re a bit bruised because they refused to stay quiet, none of the merchandise is permanently damaged."

The word ’merchandise’ triggered something dark inside Adrian.

His hands began to shake slightly. Pure, violent anger built up in his chest and the only thing he wanted to do, was grab his rifle and blow the salesman’s head off.