Denor had been a slave trader for over ten years. He worked in both the legal and illegal markets. He was not a major figure in the industry, but an average one, someone who had started as a fully legal trader dealing only with permitted slaves. He stayed that way until three years ago, when he encountered an opportunity that twisted his path.

  At the time he was still small scale, delivering legal slaves to a nearby city. On the way, he stopped to rest in a rural village. A farmer approached him. Denor did not know what the man wanted, but the farmer insisted on speaking in private. Denor assumed it was about some special merchandise or a unique deal.

  The farmer leaned in and said something Denor never expected.

  "I want to sell you one of my daughters. How much will you give me for her? She’s a virgin, nineteen years old."

  Denor was shocked. His first thought was, Are you a demon, selling your own child? But he was not naive. He understood the world. He had heard stories of parents selling their children when food was scarce. But this was the first time it had happened directly to him.

  He opened his mouth to refuse, but stopped midway. His mind began turning. His business was not doing well. Finding legal slaves through proper channels was difficult. Competition was stiff, and what he obtained were mostly low-class slaves. But a virgin young woman… in the black market, such slaves were in extremely high demand.

  The problem was that the government strictly banned trading illegal slaves. A person must be a criminal or a debtor to be legally enslaved.

  Still, Denor hesitated.

  The farmer watched him closely.

  Finally Denor said, "First, I’ll take a look at her."

  "Of course, of course. Come with me."

  Denor followed the farmer to his home, where his wife and many children were gathered—from toddlers to the daughter he was about to sell. The girl smiled gently and said to her father, "Oh, Father, I was thinking about the matter from before. So I decided I’ll go to the nearest city and find my livelihood there."

  The farmer smiled widely. "No need to worry, dear. Papa has already arranged something for you. See this gentleman? Mister Denor is a merchant in the city. He said if you work hard, he would love to employ you as his subordinate."

  A hopeful smile lit the girl’s face. "Really?" She looked at Denor with bright, trusting eyes.

  Denor replied, "I’m still thinking about it."

  The father continued proudly, explaining how hardworking she was, how she could do all chores and even heavy lifting when needed.

  After a short time they left the house.

  The farmer waited eagerly. "Well? How was she? Will she get us a good sum of money?"

  Denor said, "I’ll take her."

  The farmer’s smile stretched almost to his ears. And that was the moment Denor’s corruption began.

  This was his first illegal slave.

  The farmer sent his daughter with Denor’s caravan. It was not difficult to trick her into wearing shackles. When she realized the truth she screamed day and night, but Denor did not care. He simply gave her “education” whenever needed.

  He sold her at a black-market auction for a large sum—more than he had ever earned in a single sale. Enough money to turn his heart fully toward greed.

  Within a year he rose from a small slave trader to an average-sized one. He continued taking similar illegal requests. But as his greed grew, he wanted more.

  He approached a large family in a different village and asked if they wished to sell any of their members. Their children were many and fairly good-looking, worth a high price. The family reacted with outrage. They nearly beat him and drove him out of the village.

  Denor felt humiliated. His pride could not bear it.

  To take revenge, he commissioned Gale’s escort party to kidnap members of that same family. It was an illegal request, but he trusted Gale. They had known each other for years. Even if Gale refused, he would not report the business.

  It did not take long. A few rough adventurers and Gale managed to kidnap one of the family members.

  Denor felt thrilled when he saw the new slave crying and begging for forgiveness. It made him feel powerful—like someone important, someone feared.

  And that was how his illegal business bloomed even further.

  ---

  It was supposed to be a normal delivery run. Denor was already irritated with his escort group, since their delays had pushed his slave transport back by several days. He was a cheap man, always cutting expenses wherever he could, especially when it came to feeding slaves. That was why his slaves were often skinny and low quality.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  But today was different. Today was a big day.

  He had managed to kidnap six people from a rural village. His luck had been unusually good. Once he sold them in Salvis City, he would make a large amount of money. Of course, he still had to divide the profit with Gale’s group, but that did not matter. Gale’s people were practically his subordinates now.

  Everything was going smoothly, at least until he spotted an unconscious woman lying on the road.

  He paused, unsure if it was an incredible stroke of luck or a trap meant to ambush his caravan. Bandits often used tricks like this to lure in merchants, so Gale’s party also became cautious. They kept their distance as the magician checked the surroundings.

  The magician used detection magic, searching for any trace of mana around the girl. But there was none. She only had the amount of mana a normal person possessed. Then the mage used Detect Presence, but again nothing. There were no hidden people nearby.

  Yes, there were individuals in the world who could slip past detection magic, but those were skilled scouts or assassins. There was no reason for such people to target a mediocre caravan like theirs.

  Gale finally said, "Mr. Denor, there’s no trap here. She’s just a normal person."

  Denor’s eyes gleamed with greed. Even from a distance he could tell she was beautiful, with a remarkable figure. She would be an A-class slave. She could sell for an incredible price.

  Denor grinned. "Gale… I think we found a treasure."

  Gale smirked back. He understood exactly what Denor meant.

  The caravan moved toward the unconscious woman. Gale ordered two of his party members to check her condition.

  One leaned down and said, "No, boss. She’s breathing."

  Gale nodded. "Then load her into the slave carriage. And don’t forget to put shackles on her."

  Denor stood beside him, eager to examine his new merchandise. But the two adventurers were moving unusually slowly as they carried the woman.

  Denor snapped, "What are you doing, you two? Move faster! We’re already late."

  Then he caught a clear glimpse of her face.

  Ah. That was why they were slow.

  They were admiring her.

  Denor’s breath hitched. For the first time in his life, he felt that maybe… maybe he should not sell this one. Her face looked like a porcelain doll, her body shaped like a sculpture carved by a master craftsman. Even her unconscious expression was breathtaking.

  The only thing he did not like was her short hair and the strange clothing she wore. But clothes could be changed, and hair would grow. That was not a problem.

  "Search her for weapons or equipment," Denor ordered.

  But then his eyes fell on something else. A strange item on her wrist. A small metal device he had never seen before.

  He grabbed her wrist roughly and examined it.

  "Is this… a clock? This small? What a piece of art…"

  Denor’s heart raced. This device might be more valuable than the woman herself.

  He forced the watch off her wrist, tugging at it until he figured out how to unfasten it. When he finally wore it, he muttered in awe, "Such beautiful craftsmanship."

  Gale watched silently, but did not comment. He had no idea how to judge the value of such an item.

  Denor then removed every ring from her fingers and dropped them into his pouch. They too were crafted with strange beauty and precision. Each one could fetch a high price.

  Denor was ecstatic. Even without selling the woman, he could make a massive profit just from these items alone.

  As the journey continued, he could not stop admiring the watch on his wrist, his smile growing greedier with every passing mile.

  Denor sat inside the carriage, still admiring the wristwatch he had stolen from the unconscious woman. He could not believe the craftsmanship. His mood was so good he almost forgot his irritation with Gale’s party.

  That lasted until Gale arrived with news.

  "Mr. Denor, the slaves are planning an escape. We need to stop them. I don’t know how, but the coachman said they somehow removed their restraints."

  Denor’s expression darkened immediately. A problem at the final stage of delivery. Exactly what he did not want.

  "Then let them know what happens when a slave tries to escape his destiny," Denor snapped. "If I didn’t need to sell them, I’d break them myself."

  His irritation quickly shifted toward anger.

  Gale and his party surrounded the slave carriage. Gale shouted for the slaves to surrender without resistance and promised they would avoid punishment.

  Denor was about to speak again when he felt something crawl up his throat. A dryness. A tightness. As if something terrible was about to happen. He brushed it off as nerves.

  Then the carriage of slaves liquified.

  The wooden planks, the iron bars—everything melted like warm wax, sliding downward like living slime.

  Denor’s jaw dropped. He simply stared. He could not form a single thought.

  The carriage was made of wood and iron. How could it suddenly turn into liquid?

  Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

  "Is… is this magic?" Denor whispered. "But none of the slaves are mages…"

  All the slaves fell to the ground as the carriage dissolved. Only one woman remained standing.

  The woman he had picked up from the road.

  Denor’s stomach twisted. He immediately understood this was her doing.

  He turned on Gale, furious. "Didn’t you say she was a normal person? She’s a mage!"

  Gale’s face tightened. "We checked. She didn’t have enough mana to be a mage."

  Denor did not care about that explanation. In his mind, it did not matter. They had numbers. She had only beaten and hungry slaves at her back. Even one mage could not defeat a fully armed escort team.

  But Gale did not see it that way. His instincts from years of adventuring were screaming. When he met Helena’s eyes, even with that soft smile on her face, something inside him recoiled.

  She is strong. Stronger than me.

  Denor barked orders at Gale to capture the slaves, only to realize he could not move. His feet refused to budge. They were trapped in the ground as if swallowed by stone.

  And then the woman began to walk toward him.

  Denor’s heart pounded wildly. His escort party tried attacking her in secret, believing they could eliminate her with a surprise strike.

  They were killed instantly.

  Even Gale did not move.

  Denor screamed for help as the woman approached. He looked at her face again, but now he did not see a beautiful piece of merchandise. He saw a lioness whose cub had been taken.

  She grabbed his arm.

  Then ripped it clean from his shoulder.

  Denor screamed. The sound tore out of his throat, raw and broken. His arm had not been cut. It had been torn away as if she found something filthy attached to him.

  She did not even blink while doing it.

  His vision blurred with tears. He fell to the ground, trying desperately to dig his feet out of the earth. Even through the agony, his instincts screamed to escape.

  He dug with his remaining hand, clawing at the dirt, only to feel like he was scraping solid iron.

  Then she crushed his knee.

  His scream rose again. His voice cracked beyond recognition.

  He begged her to spare him. He pleaded. He promised to change.

  But she only said, "Give me back my rings."

  Through panic and terror, he remembered. He fumbled for his pouch and handed it to her with shaking fingers. He did not dare keep the gold. If money would save his life, he would gladly sacrifice it.

  When he saw her smile—a small, warm smile—he felt a spark of hope.

  She only wanted her rings. She would spare him now.

  He asked weakly if she would spare him.

  She answered, "No."

  And just like that, the final hope drained out of him. His eyes rolled back. He fainted, finally escaping the pain.

  At least for a moment, he thought, he would not have to suffer anymore.

  Darkness swallowed him.

  ---

  Time passed before Denor woke again.

  His eyes were still closed. He groaned inwardly.

  "What a terrible nightmare… I really need to stop stressing over work."

  But something bothered him.

  Why was he lying down? Why did he feel like he had fallen asleep while transporting slaves to Salvis?

  He had no memory of how he drifted off.

  "Whatever… I should wake up now."

  He tried to stretch his limbs.

  Nothing moved.

  He tried to open his eyes.

  Still nothing.

  His body was completely still, stiff beyond reason. Something inside him moved, but his outer body did not react at all.

  He tried to scream.

  No sound left his mouth.

  He could feel his tongue move inside his mouth, but his jaw refused to open. His lips did not part. His eyelids did not lift.

  Panic filled him like cold water.

  "What… what is happening…?"

  His mind screamed for his body to move.

  But there was no movement.

  What Denor did not know was simple and horrifying.

  Helena had turned his outer skin into iron.

  His inner body still lived, but everything outside had been transformed into metal. His muscles could not move. His eyes could not blink. His lips could not open. He was trapped inside a metal shell.

  A human statue.

  His brain sent signals. His nerves fired. But nothing could move.

  And if someone tried to break the iron shell, Denor would die. A human could not live without skin.

  But death would be a mercy.

  Because the fate awaiting him was far worse.

  A slow, agonizing death from dehydration and starvation, locked inside a body that could not move, speak, cry, or blink.

  Denor tried to weep, but even his tears could not escape his eyes.

  He was alive.

  And trapped.

  Author Note -

  Chapter Five already. Thank you for reading this far. I appreciate it more than you know.