When the cage door opened, the sound wasn't sharp.
It was only the low groan of metal scraping against wood—yet it drew every eye in the space at once.
Rosa didn't lift her head.
She let her shoulders slump slightly, reined in her strength, and allowed the chains to take her weight. She looked exactly like what they expected: a half-beast slave exhausted by long transport, with no resistance left.
She heard footsteps approaching.
Heavy, uneven, armor clattering together with careless indifference. These weren't soldiers. These were people used to handling merchandise.
"Get up."
The unfamiliar language carried impatience.
The cage door was yanked open. The chain snapped tight, the force transferring directly to the collar around her neck. Metal constricted instantly, a faint pulse of energy surging through it, numbing her nerves.
Rosa stood.
Not in defiance—but in cooperation.
Because she had already confirmed three things—
The collar restricted movement, but wasn't lethal on contact.
The energy pulses came in intervals, not a constant output.
And the control device was on the guard's belt.
She was shoved onto a wooden platform.
Harsh light flooded her vision, washing everything white for a moment. When her eyes adjusted, she saw a ring of onlookers—mostly humans, with a few finely dressed non-humans mixed in. Their gazes crawled over her body, assessing muscle, teeth, frame—like livestock.
"An adult half-beast female,"
the trafficker said, patting her shoulder with no restraint. "Combat type. Durable."
Low laughter rippled through the crowd.
Rosa kept her eyes lowered. Her ears, however, caught every word.
Prices.
Functions.
The differences in tone between buyers.
This wasn't an auction.
It was categorized distribution.
When she was dragged off the platform, she showed no reaction. The chains rattled again as she was returned to the cage.
Bella was next.
She moved half a beat slower than Rosa, her steps unsteady—as if she truly wasn't used to this body. Rosa knew better. It was deliberate.
When Bella was forced to raise her hands on the platform, her gaze flicked over the collar's structure. Her fingers trembled, just slightly.
Not fear.
Material confirmation.
"Too thin,"
the trafficker frowned. "But good eyes."
Some buyers scoffed. Others leaned in with interest.
When Bella was pushed back, she gave a soft cough—swallowed by the market's noise.
Rosa heard it anyway.
She recognized the rhythm.
—Energy limiter. Not a magic core.
Then came Jessie.
When she was pulled from the cage, she straightened on her own. Her posture was calm, controlled. She deliberately kept her gaze lowered—obedient, manageable.
The discussion grew louder.
"This one looks compliant."
"Good for domestic use."
"Can it speak?"
Jessie nodded and answered softly with a short reply, drawing a ripple of laughter.
When she returned to the cage, her steps were light—almost too light for a slave.
The three regrouped in the shadows.
No words were exchanged.
They didn't need to be.
Rosa reassessed the situation.
An open-market layout. Three exits.
Twelve to fifteen guards.
Weapons primarily cold steel and control devices.
Bella had confirmed the collar's energy pattern.
Jessie had likely identified the buyers—and who was merely watching.
Escape wasn't impossible.
They just needed the right moment.
Then, a disturbance rippled through the far end of the market.
A small unit entered—better equipped, better disciplined. Their leader wore a dark cloak, moving with unhurried confidence. The traffickers lowered their voices instinctively.
Jessie's ears twitched.
She tilted her head slightly and breathed out a single word, barely visible on her lips.
"…Variable."
Rosa raised her gaze.
She saw the cloaked figure stop at the center of the market, surveying the cages one by one—until his attention settled on their side.
Rosa's fingers curled slowly.
If the plan had to be accelerated,
then there was only one option left—
Take back control.