CHAPTER 19: THE BLACK MARKET

The city of Barovik rose like a wall of gray stone and red roofs, nestled among low hills covered with yellowed pasture. From a distance, it seemed respectable — but up close, it revealed cracks in the walls, muddy streets, and too many people for its decaying infrastructure.

It was a commercial center out of necessity, not glory: caravans came and went every day, bringing goods, rumors, diseases, and promises of wealth that almost never materialized.

The south gate creaked as it opened, wooden beams with axe marks and rust where old nails gave way. And through this gate, leaning on an improvised staff, a man stumbled in.

Ergan was unrecognizable to anyone who had seen him before. His nose still crooked and swollen, purple up to his eyes. His right arm barely moved, his collarbone clearly broken. Each step was a creak of poorly set bones and a muffled groan.

His face, covered in dry mud mixed with clotted blood, drew glances — but no one helped him. In Barovik, a man dying in the street was a useful reminder to stay out of trouble.

He coughed, spitting blood onto the crooked cobblestone ground. But he kept going.

The Iron Wing guild was housed in an old two-story stone building, renovated just enough to keep the walls standing. Wooden signs hung askew with the poorly painted symbol of an iron wing hammered into shape.

Inside, the main hall was cold, lit by oil lamps that cast giant shadows on the peeling walls. Several men and women played cards or cleaned weapons, laughing and speaking quietly, but they stopped when Ergan entered.

He staggered to the makeshift counter — a plank supported by barrels.

Behind it, flipping through a notebook with impeccable handwriting, was the guild leader.

Ser Mordell.

Very long black hair, tied in a low ponytail that swayed like a veil. Aristocratic clothes — a vest embroidered with golden threads (a bit frayed), a white ruffled shirt (yellowed with age), tight pants, and high boots that seemed polished to the point of wearing out. A fake ring sparkled on his thin finger.

But none of this deceived the eyes: cold, gray as a blade.

He raised his eyes with an elegant arch of his eyebrow.

"Oh. Look who visits us. A beggar?"

Ergan tried to speak, spitting blood.

"I-I sent... me... h-help..."

Ser Mordell sighed theatrically.

"You are ruining my floor, good man."

Ergan clung to the counter.

"I... need... to talk... about the Tamer... monster... two females... slime... wolf..."

Mordell raised a delicate hand, silencing him.

"Please. Don’t stutter. It’s so vulgar."

He snapped his fingers. Two brutes approached. One of them held Ergan by the shoulders with firmness.

"You know..." Mordell said, taking a somewhat grimy linen handkerchief and wiping his lips as if cleaning a trace of tea "...we didn’t need you to come."

Ergan groaned.

"W-what...?"

Mordell smiled.

"We’ve already been warned."

Ergan tried to move, but the pain doubled him over.

"H-Hagan...?"

Mordell smiled more, his yellowed teeth aligned in a polite arc.

"Yes. Our dear Hagan. A practical man. He told us everything. About the Monster Tamer. And I imagine you met him, judging by your state. However, I’m sorry to say that now you hold very important information in your hands."

Ergan trembled.

"I-I won’t... tell... I promise..."

Mordell sighed.

"Oh, I know. I know you think that. But the problem, my dear, is not what you will say."

He approached, his boots creaking.

"But what you might say."

Ergan tried to speak more, but the guard’s arm tightened around his neck.

Mordell sighed theatrically.

He gave a slight signal.

The second guard plunged a short blade into Ergan’s belly, silent, efficient. The sound was just a wet sigh.

Ergan shuddered.

Life left his eyes before the thud of his body hitting the floor was heard.

Mordell adjusted the sleeve of his embroidered coat.

"Clean this up. And spread sawdust. Blood makes the floor slippery."

The guards dragged the corpse to a dark corner.

Mordell sighed and sat down again, picking up the pen to continue writing.

But not immediately.

He stared into the void, tapping the pen’s tip on his chin.

*A Tamer who killed Ergan’s pathetic group? Then it seems this Tamer is indeed special. Moreover, it has just been confirmed a female slime and a werewolf. Must be a very cold man.*

A small smile appeared.

"Curious."

He wrote in the notebook with fine letters: Negotiate with the Monster Tamer. Condition: Control or eliminate him.

He raised his eyes to the hall.

Ser Mordell crossed his legs with elegance, adjusting the frayed vest, and let out a satisfied sigh.

The lamp flickered, casting sharp shadows on his polite smile.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The road to Barovik stretched dry and uneven, flanked by low shrubs and twisted trees casting thin shadows on the dusty ground. The sun was high, but the cold wind made the path uncomfortable, punishing exposed skin with icy gusts.

Eren walked in front, hood pulled over his face, his worn coat swinging at his knees with each firm step. Behind him, Kaela followed with a heavy, disciplined stride, even covered head to toe by a thick, tattered blanket — taken from adventurers who dared to challenge them. The blanket hid her muscular curves and black claws, leaving only a glimpse of what she was: something wild forcibly contained in cheap fabric.

Nyssa walked beside, more composed than ever. Her translucent body held firm, the feminine contours clearer, an almost human shape, yet still softly undulating. The cloak covered her well, and she held its edge delicately, as if wanting to ensure she appeared presentable.

Kaela adjusted the blanket over her broad shoulders with a restrained growl.

"This itches."

Eren didn’t turn his face.

"Endure it."

Kaela huffed.

"I don’t like being covered. But... I understand."

Nyssa looked at her partner with those large, gentle eyes.

"Yeah... better this way. It’ll draw less attention."

Kaela glanced at her sideways, her lupine ears pressed against her head under the cloth.

"I won’t bite you today."

Nyssa smiled shyly.

"Thank you."

Kaela rolled her eyes.

"Just today."

Nyssa shook her head, stifling a laugh.

Eren didn’t bother to smile. But his eyebrows rose slightly.

"Good. Did you understand the plan?"

Nyssa nodded, her cloak swaying along.

"Sell... buy... don’t draw attention."

Kaela gritted her teeth but responded.

"Don’t kill anyone."

Eren nodded.

"Correct."

Kaela wrinkled her nose, adjusting the cloak.

"You will sell stuff. Buy weapon."

"Yes."

Nyssa blinked.

"Will we stay close to you?"

"Yes."

Kaela growled low, but not angrily.

"If someone touches without permission?"

Eren finally looked at her.

"Remove the hand. No killing."

Kaela clenched her fist under the cloak but nodded.

"Remove the hand. No killing. Got it."

Nyssa sighed, relieved.

"Good, Kaela."

Kaela gave a half-smile.

"Softy... you’re getting braver."

Nyssa blushed.

"I’m not a softy."

Kaela raised an eyebrow but didn’t retort.

Eren observed this carefully.

Better communication. Stable affinity. Shared emotional control functioning.

The System blinked silently in his mind with updates on the companions’ status — vital signs, affinity, emotional stability. It was rudimentary, but enough to notice progress.

As they walked, the silhouette of Barovik grew on the horizon. The gray stone walls were cracked in several places but remained imposing. Watchtowers rose, sloppy but manned. Faded flags waved lazily in the wind.

Nyssa bit her lower lip, carefully shaping her face.

"Eren... the city is big. What will you do besides selling?"

"Buy supplies. Look for monster for sale."

Kaela snapped her fingers, the nails making a sound against the cloak.

"I want to see a weapon shop."

Eren stared at her.

"Maybe."

Kaela growled, but without aggression.

"Kaela just wants to look."

Nyssa let out an excited sigh.

"Will there be... sweets?"

Kaela looked at her, surprised.

"Sweets?"

Nyssa shrugged.

"I... I like them."

Kaela let out a short laugh.

"Softy wants sweets. Kaela wants meat."

Eren raised a hand to silence them.

"Focus. First, sell. Then, buy. Then, leave."

Kaela grumbled.

"Yes."

Nyssa nodded.

"Understood..."

The cold wind brought the smell of wood smoke and crowded bodies. The voices of the city became audible — street cries, fights, drunken laughter.

Eren adjusted his cloak, tightened the belt with pouches full of loot. The coins jingled softly.

I have enough gold. I can buy supplies, equipment, possibly another monster. But I need to negotiate carefully. I’m not from here.

He glanced quickly at the two.

Kaela kept her chin up, even covered. The slit pupils flickered under the makeshift hood. A beast trying to behave like a person.

Nyssa walked with measured steps, less plop, more composure. The translucent form trembled less, contained and more solid.

They’ve improved.

The walls now seemed close enough to touch. The guards at the entrance looked, bored, but attentive to details.

Eren took a deep breath.

"Ready?"

Kaela licked her lips.

"Yes."

Nyssa clutched the cloak to her chest.

"Let’s go."

Without another word, they passed through the gate, swallowed by the organized chaos of Barovik.

It was a living organism. An old beast, full of scars, breathing irregularly, yet refusing to die.

The streets were wide enough for two carts side by side, but filled with makeshift stalls with awnings stained with oil and blood. Merchants shouted offers in varied accents, beggars pulled arms begging for coins, half-naked children ran, laughing and stealing apples without much care from anyone.

Kaela sniffed loudly under the cloak, her lupine eyes darting around. Every smell felt like an assault — burnt spices, sweat, excrement, grilled meat.

Nyssa walked closely to Eren, her thin hands clutching his cloak tightly. She struggled not to emit plops, keeping the form more solid, but her face trembled when she saw so many people passing so close.

Eren didn’t stop. He looked at everything with cold predator eyes, evaluating each stall, each potential client or thief.

Kaela got distracted first.

"Meat."

She stopped so abruptly that Nyssa almost bumped into her from behind.

Eren turned only his eyes.

Kaela was salivating — literally — staring at a stall with ribs hanging on hooks, fresh blood dripping into buckets, a muscular butcher sharpening the knife.

Eren cleared his throat.

"Kaela."

She licked her lips, growling low.

"Want."

"Later."

She gritted her teeth under the cloak, claws clenching the fabric, but obeyed.

"Later."

Nyssa sighed in relief.

"Thank you..."

Kaela huffed but didn’t respond.

They kept walking.

The voices were deafening.

"Deer liver! Cheap!"

"Tools! Almost no rust!"

"Kid goat tripe! Delicious!"

Eren shoved a drunk aside with his shoulder.

Nyssa apologized automatically.

"S-sorry..."

Kaela grumbled.

"Softy."

But without force in her voice.

Nyssa almost lost focus when they passed a colorful stall. Candied fruits, caramel wrapped in paper, jars with hard candies shining like jewels.

Nyssa froze.

"...sweet..."

Eren turned to face her. She shrugged, her voice small.

"I... just wanted to look..."

Kaela let out a short laugh.

"You’re going to drool."

Nyssa bit her lower lip, trying to contain the sparkle in her eyes. Eren sighed.

Nyssa let out an almost inaudible plop of embarrassment.

They arrived at a less chaotic area, where older merchants sold old metals, monster teeth, horns.

Eren examined one of them. A man with one eye, disheveled beard, fake gold teeth.

"How much for this?"

Eren tossed a pouch with crystallized frog tongues, venomous glands, saline scales.

The man rummaged, sniffed.

"100 coins."

Eren raised an eyebrow.

"150."

"110."

Eren didn’t blink.

The man relented.

"130."

"Deal."

Eren took the coins, testing the weight.

Kaela sniffed the air hungrily. Nyssa swayed the cloak, trying not to look at the now more distant sweet stall.

Eren continued.

He searched for weapon and armor shops. Nothing worthy. Bad iron, poorly stitched leather. Sellers lying through their teeth.

"Trash."

In a darker corner, he asked a vendor.

"Best shop?"

The man widened his eyes, looking at the two hooded figures behind him.

He lowered his voice.

"For you? Best to sell in the Lower Market."

Eren frowned.

"Where?"

The man pointed discreetly.

"End of the street. Stone stairs. Only those who know go."

Kaela sniffed, adjusting the cloak.

"Bad smell there."

Nyssa swallowed hard.

"I’m scared..."

Eren didn’t hesitate.

"Let’s go."

They headed to the alley. The street grew narrower, the voices quieter. A stone staircase, damp, sank into the earth. The smell of mold and sweat mixed with smoke was strong.

Kaela raised an eyebrow.

"Smells like death."

Nyssa shivered.

"Are we really...?"

Eren stepped down the first step.

"Yes."

The two followed him, cloaked and silent.

At the bottom of the stairs, the darkness opened into a corridor lit by torches, with dozens of people whispering, negotiating, showing bags of illegal goods.

The Black Market.

The black market was buried beneath Barovik like a tumor.

It was a cavernous corridor, dug into the ground with wooden beams soaked with moisture, lit by torches that cast acrid smoke and long shadows on the walls.

The air down there smelled of mold, old sweat, dried blood, and lamp oil.

Eren passed through the entrance without hesitation.

The two followed. Kaela was grinding her teeth, claws hidden under the ragged cloak, and her amber eyes never stopped moving, sniffing out danger like a restless wolf.

Nyssa walked close to him, clutching her cloak tightly, trembling less than before, but still anxious — the contours of her body wavering more opaque than transparent.

The corridor opened into a large hall, divided into stone and wooden stalls. Vendors whispered offers behind tables covered with filthy cloths.

Piles of items plundered from caravans: rusted weapons, dubious potions, blood-stained jewelry.

Eren kept his eyes sharp, evaluating. He quickly saw that there was real product there — none of the junk from the stalls above.

On one of the tables, potions lined up in thick glass bottles. The vendor had gold teeth and a crooked hat. He held one up to Eren, the dark green liquid bubbling slowly.

"Dissolves toxin. Good for poisoned wounds."

Eren analyzed the consistency, the color, the smell.

"Acceptable."

He bought three. Transferred them to smaller flasks in his own bag, keeping a mental inventory check.

On the other side, Nyssa stopped suddenly. Her gaze fixed on a bowl full of small blue balls covered in crystallized powder.

"P-please..."

Her voice faltered a bit, but came out firmer than before. Eren followed her gaze.

"Sweet..."

The vendor, a short man with eyes like black buttons, saw the interest and stepped forward.

"Moonflower sugar. Cheap. But special."

Eren raised an eyebrow.

"Special?"

The man smiled in a way that was anything but trustworthy.

"Improves focus. Concentration. Gives a mild high if you eat too much. But one or two make the mind... sharp."

Nyssa couldn’t take her eyes off. Kaela sniffed.

"Drug."

Eren considered.

"Focus. Might help. She’s scatterbrained."

He bought six. Handed one to Nyssa. She took it carefully, holding it between translucent fingers.

"Thank you..."

Kaela growled.

"Softie will get high."

Nyssa stuck her tongue out — literally, a bit of translucent gel peeked out and vanished — before popping the sweet into her mouth.

Eren ignored it.

He continued walking.

He bought another kit of reinforced bandages, some needles with thread, two cheap smoke bombs. Nothing fancy — but useful.

Then he stopped. Kaela and Nyssa stopped too. A large wooden enclosure divided the hall.

Inside it, monsters. Female, but unrecognizable from so much neglect. One was a kind of humanoid caterpillar with a pus-filled chest.

Another had broken scales and cried, emitting guttural sounds. A slime with a dead gray color was trapped in a huge jar, slowly struggling, without strength.

All females.

All for sale.

One of the vendors shouted.

"Only today! Discount! Perfect for breeding, combat, or fun!"

Kaela growled loudly. Her hands clenched the cloak until the fabric tore a bit. Her eyes were pure hatred.

Nyssa took a step back.

"N-no..."

Her voice died. Kaela slowly turned her face to Eren.

Eren felt her gaze like a blade. Nyssa was also staring at him — her eyes big, filled with something other than fear. Judgment.

He felt it. The Affinity vibrating like a taut string.

They’re thinking if this will be their fate too.

The System didn’t need to warn him. He felt it. Kaela spoke first, her voice deep, restrained, but trembling.

"Would you... sell Kaela?"

Nyssa swallowed hard.

Nyssa’s words didn’t come out, but her gaze was clear: Would you sell?

Eren took a deep breath. Looked at the creatures in the enclosure. Then at them.

His mind worked. Calculated. The truth was simple: Yes. If the price was good. If it was worth it.

But he couldn’t say that. Not now.

Don’t lose Affinity. Not now.

He inhaled slowly.

"No."

Kaela raised her chin, still tense.

"Truth?"

Nyssa trembled.

"Promise?"

Eren looked them in the eyes.

"It doesn’t make sense to sell."

Kaela bit her lip, her eyes still narrowed.

Nyssa sniffed.

"Thank you..."

Eren didn’t blink. Heavy silence.

Kaela growled lower, but said nothing.

But Eren felt it. They knew. They knew he was lying. They knew that if the price was right, he would hesitate. But for now, it was enough.

He breathed. Turned.

"Let’s go."

Eren started walking deeper into the black market. Kaela and Nyssa followed him in silence. Behind them, the vendors’ shouts continued, offering misery wrapped as merchandise.