For nearly two full days, Joel remained locked away in endless discussions with Basil and his lieutenants. Action plans, figures, and projections followed one after another, as he clearly outlined the first steps of the expansion and the estimated funding for each phase. These weren't just vague ideas: Joel demanded dates, accountability, and measurable results.

  He even gave Basil the keys to one of his residences in Thurion, a place he could no longer enter under his usual identity. Inside were chests overflowing with gold, as well as a large stockpile of crystals. These represented the company's first major capital injection.

  For Basil, that gesture was definitive confirmation that they weren't dealing with a mere eccentric backer, but with someone who thought and acted on a completely different scale.

  When there was finally nothing left to discuss, when every idea had been dissected and every objection answered, Joel felt the mental pressure shift once more into an uncomfortable void, for the next logical step for him meant returning to the shelter.

  But there were still more than two days to go before he could close the mental barrier.

  That simple reality left him suspended in an uncomfortable uncertainty. He didn't feel capable of remaining still, but neither did he have an immediate task that completely absorbed him. With the barrier open, every moment of inactivity was an invitation to emotional chaos.

  It was then that Calista, almost as if offering an innocent distraction, told him about a grand festival held in the port city of Croriris.

  It was an annual celebration, deeply rooted in the city's identity, that usually lasted for several weeks. During that time, the commercial district transformed into the beating heart of Croriris: maritime trade from the west arrived nonstop, warehouses filled with exotic goods, and merchants offered, it was said, the best deals of the year.

  Basil and his lieutenants had planned to attend several days ago. However, Joel's delay and the subsequent meeting at the farm had forced them to cancel the trip. Now, with only two or three days of the festival remaining, neither of them was sure it was worth traveling the nearly 150 kilometers to the port city.

  Intrigued, Joel asked for more details. Discovering that Croriris was not just any shopping center, but a commercial hub of enormous importance to the nation. Much of the traffic came from Tritin, another nation within the Free States, whose economy relied heavily on the slave trade, especially for those captured or purchased in the West.

  The information left him thoughtful. Except for his prisoner-of-war business, Joel had never shown any interest in acquiring slaves. Perhaps due to the lingering influence of their idealized lives, the idea of ??owning another person had always struck him as profoundly uncivilized, an archaic practice that clashed with his worldview.

  However, his ambitions were no longer modest. The company's expansion, logistics projects, and long-term plans... all demanded a lot of manpower. And not just any kind of help, but individuals who couldn't easily betray him, people he could even move to the shelter without much fear.

  That thought made him somewhat uneasy. But he couldn't ignore it.

  With this mixture of pragmatism and inner conflict, Joel finally convinced Basil to make the trip to Croriris. Not only to observe the slave market with his own eyes, but also to take advantage of the massive presence of merchants and seek mystical resources that could strengthen the company's mercenaries.

  Without wasting any time, the group set off by carriage for Croriris.

  The journey was surprisingly smooth, and after a little over half a day, they reached the city just as the sun began to sink below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of orange and red that were reflected in the harbor waters.

  Entering the city, however, wasn't as easy as they had expected. Even though the festival was in its final days, the city was still teeming with people. Straggling merchants, late-arriving visitors, and entire crews of merchant ships filled the streets, squares, and especially the inns. Finding accommodation for everyone proved more difficult than anticipated, and only after persistence, negotiation, and paying an inflated price were they able to secure enough rooms for the night.

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  Joel barely had the mental energy for anything other than collapsing onto his bed.

  The next morning, the group decided to split up. Basil would accompany Joel to the slave market, while Calista and the others would head to the commercial district, hoping the mystic markets were still operating and that there were still opportunities for them.

  Joel wasn't fully recovered yet. The constant flow of people, the incessant noise of the city, and the chaotic movement of the congested streets gave him several headaches along the way. Every raised voice, every accidental shove, echoed too intensely in his mind. Even so, he managed to endure it without much trouble, moving forward with a furrowed brow and a determined stride, resolved not to let the discomfort overwhelm him.

  The slave market was located in the port district, in an area dominated by enormous warehouses and loading docks. Nearby lay the seafood market, a place permeated by the heavy, lingering smell of freshly landed fish, salt, and shellfish. The sea breeze mingled with the shouts of stevedores, merchants, and foremen, creating a constant cacophony.

  Joel had visited other port cities before, but he had never been truly interested in exploring the harbors. Therefore, being so close to the open sea and the countless ships anchored both at the dock and offshore was a completely new experience for him.

  Wooden boats of all sizes lined the harbor, propelled by enormous sails that caught the wind. Their dark, sturdy hulls swayed gently with the waves, producing a constant creaking that mingled with the sound of the water lapping against the wood.

  Joel couldn't help but analyze what he saw. He had previously researched the naval technologies of this world, concluding that, in essence, the ships closely resembled the galleys of ancient times on Earth. However, the comparison ended there, as in this world there were woods with strengths equal to or even greater than steel, which greatly reduced structural limitations. The size of the vessels was restricted only by their total weight and the propulsion capacity required to move them.

  It wasn't uncommon to find enormous cargo ships or veritable warships that openly relied on magic for propulsion. Some used wind-manipulation spells, while others directly altered the water around their hulls to move faster. There were also far cheaper—and more brutal—methods, such as the use of chained slaves forced to row on the lower decks for endless hours.

  In the case of the largest and most feared warships, known as Dreadnoughts, the information Joel had gathered was even more unsettling. These floating behemoths lacked sails entirely and depended on the constant assistance of powerful mystical warriors to move. Due to the nature of modern naval warfare, their design prioritized endurance and power above all else.

  Rumors even circulated that a water elemental was kept prisoner at the heart of each of these vessels. The only way, it was said, to make such colossal structures as fast and maneuverable as a light sailboat.

  Although no military vessels were visible in the port of Croriris at that moment, Joel witnessed several ships whose length easily exceeded one hundred and fifty meters. As he watched them, he couldn't help but think that, even in a world primitive in many respects, war and trade always found a way to push the boundaries of what was possible.

  Once at the slave market, Basil led Joel to a secluded section, one that was said to trade in “high-end goods.” The term was deeply unsettling to him, for these were people. Perhaps of other races and from distant lands, but people nonetheless.

  Joel didn't even notice the name of the place, for as soon as he crossed the entrance, he was struck by the surrounding luxury. The building was decorated with fine woods, exquisite fabrics, and mystical symbols carved into polished columns. Everything was carefully lit, not to display merchandise, but to create an atmosphere of exclusivity, as if this were a private gallery and not a slave market.

  Then he saw them. For the first time since arriving in this world, Joel found himself face to face with elven women. Dressed in revealing attire, they served as decoration and receptionists.

  He had seen elves before in different cities of the nation, but they had always been men. Tall individuals with delicate features and a striking beauty. Even so, none of that compared to what he saw before him. The elven women on display possessed an almost unreal, harmonious beauty, a blend of grace and presence that surpassed any human standard. They were, without exaggeration, the most beautiful women Joel had ever seen.

  And then something unexpected happened. A wave of excitement surged through his body with brutal intensity. A sudden, almost violent heat coursed through his back and across his chest, nearly causing him to get an erection in public.

  He even had to look away immediately, tensing his muscles and forcing himself to breathe calmly, as a mixture of shame and bewilderment overwhelmed him.

  It didn't make sense. Ever since the supernatural dreams had invaded his life, Joel had ceased to be a normal person in almost every imaginable way. And one of those ways had undoubtedly been his emotional and sexual development.

  It wasn't surprising. Considering someone who suppressed so much of his emotion while living, literally, entire lives once a month—lives filled with relationships, intimacy, affection, and desire, moreover, in a hypersexualized modern society—he could hardly see emotional relationships in the same way.

  For years, Joel had felt like someone who had already experienced too much. Sated, exhausted, and detached from urgency.

  Romantic relationships, desire, attraction… all of that had become distant, almost academic. Inside his mind, the lives he had dreamed of had been too real, and so intense, that they ended up compromising his core identity, which was already altered by the emotional barrier he had unconsciously built.

  But now that was changing. With the barrier opening, those lives began to feel strange, alien, like endless movies he'd watched long ago. He was no longer the one who had loved, desired, or suffered in them. He was just the spectator.

  And what was emerging violently were his original emotions. Raw and untouched. They weren't just causing him an emotional crisis, but were also returning something he'd never been able to fully experience: his own puberty, his emotional adolescence, and the awakening of impulses that had been repressed before they even had a chance to exist.