So….forgot about this fic for a while. You have Miss Corona and her little sister, Quarantine, to thank for reminding of a work I started.

Another chapter i don't feel good on. This is starting to become a habit.

Short chapter incoming. No proofreading so expect crappy grammar and syntax.

The Lamb Greets Its Butcher

The sun hid itself from the sights of those below it, as it had for aeons before.

The moons shone along with the starry sky, raining upon the world an ethereal glimmer.

The busy streets of Buscar raged on in defiance against the darkness, countless magical lamps illuminating the massive metropolis.

Among the sea of streets, one stood out.

It was not like the glamorous roads of the nobles district, or the painfully pragmatic pavements of the merchants district.

It was crude in the truest sense, plain and simple.

Considering it lay within the cusps of the commoners district, the dirt and gravel of its composition were not unusual.

An average street, except in the presence it was beholden to.

A figure that should not belong to this lowly street traversed upon it, like a god journeying within the roads of man, blastphamous.

The inanimate gravel crunched as the footsteps lay upon them in succession.

Step after step the figure continued its journey, occasionally taking turns within the crude street.

Hours passed as the figure journeyed along the paths of the street, the dawn slowly welcoming the fated procession of the sun.

The march of the star pierced the tips of the mountains, signalling the start of a new tomorrow.

This time, however, the long plain street rid itself of the glorious figure.

Before said figure was a ragged building. The rotting wood of its walls fit in the slums that surrounded it.

The malnourished children ran in play as the figure approached the wooden doors of the building.

The aged hands turned the doorknob as the door creaked open.

Simultaneously the crude and poor atmosphere was broken.

The interior of the building resembled that of a high class restaurant, a far cry from the appearance of its exterior and outer surroundings.

A kneeling young man greeted the figure.

"Welcome back, Lord Auberham."

Legolias removed his hood.

"Good morning, Radnor." He took off his tattered robe as he greeted his disciple.

In turn, Radnor received the cloth with humility.

"Will you be using the teleportation matrix, your excellency?"

"I'm afraid so, prepare the crystals, I need to explain my absence to his majesty."

"Of course."

Being the diligent disciple he is, Radnor did follow the beckons of his curiosity as he quietly obeyed the commands of his master.

In the meantime, Legolias made his way to the bathhouse.

He looked like a deranged man considering his clothes were ripped and his silver hair was covered with dust, an appearance unbefitting of appearing before the King.

He rid himself of his garments as he stepped into the bath, the dirt fleeing from his body.

He sighed in pleasure, the fatigue and stress leaving his body.

His tense muscles contracted slowly as they took in the tranquility of the water.

The gunk left his dark silver hair, turning them into the shiny silver they once were.

Legolias savored the feeling for a good while, until he ran out of breath that is.

Raising his head above water, he leaned against the walls of the bath, a tint of euphoria present on his face.

He then heard a muffled voice behind the knocks of the door.

"Lord Auberham, the matrix is ready for teleportation."

"I'll be out in a while Radnor, keep it running," he answered with a grunt.

...Can't a man relax without interruption.

"Of course, take your time." Radnor answered.

Eventually the once relaxing bath was turning into a tedious endeavour.

With another sigh, Legolias removed himself from the bathwater.

Walking to one of the desks, he picked up a crystal, upon which he conjured a new robe, albeit an inferior one.

Adorning himself with a new wardrobe he walked out and towards a bare room.

At the center was an intricate magic circle, protruding from the outer regions were four rods, all of whom had a magical crystal on their tips.

He walked towards the center of the magic circle while Radnor stood in the corner of the room.

"Contact the operators at the capital," he said.

"Of course," Radnor mumbled a series of syllables into a handheld crystal, informing the teleportation officers of the capital to activate the magic circle on their end.

"It's done, your excellency."

Legolias only nodded before mumbling an incantation.

The four mana crystals glowed with a slight hue, coloring the surroundings with a pale blue light.

In that very instant, Legolias disappeared, only a slight wind remained, and of course Radnor.

Human nature has no bounds…

Much like the unforgiving nature of the jungle the actions of men have no ends.

Much of this is hidden under the guise of righteous causes and moral fallacies, or perhaps the long engrained practices of culture and tradition, or even apathy.

Regardless of any of this, there is one practice that has always presented itself within the embrace of history.

The transactional use of one's own kind.

The deprivation of will from another.

The forced labor of a conscious creature.

The possession of another.

Call it what you want, it all leads to one synonymous word.

Slavery.

"Move you useless ingrates!"

A particularly well dressed man screamed towards a group of ragged slaves.

The slaves in question left their cages in obedience and stood before the man.

"Hmm...take off your clothes."

The man commanded the two slaves to which they obeyed once more.

The crude pieces of cloth covering their bodies fell to the ground.

The man held his chin as he scrutinized their bodies, as if appraising a gem.

He squeezed their muscles with his aged hands, starting from the biceps and working his way down to their calves.

He circled around them with a serious frown before stopping in satisfaction.

"Umu...:you'll do," He gave a smug nod, the smile present on his face.

"Beval!" He yelled in the direction of the door, "By the grace Sandalphon if you don't get that useless body of yours here i will skin you alive."

Suddenly, hurried footsteps could be heard.

Soon enough, a bulky man appeared before the man, the humble look of a salesman present on his face, albeit laced with a trace of fear.

"What can i do for you boss?" Beval answered his employer, looking at him expectantly.

Instead of a command however, he received another scolding.

"Y-You dare!." The man fumed in rage as veins crawled upon his forehead.

"At least begin by apologizing for your absence, have you no manners?!" The man screamed at the top of his lungs.

"M-My apologies, boss." Beval simply apologized and lowered his head.

"Hmph." The man snorted, "So?"

"So?" Beval asked in confusion.

This ignited the man's rage once more, "Why were you late, you moron?"

Beval suddenly gained a look of understanding and answered, "Ahh..boss there is a customer waiting, I was speaking to them."

The man simply nodded, "Mhmm...I see, you were late because there was a cust-" Suddenly the words were trapped in his throat, a look of shock appearing on his face, "Y-You left a customer unattended!" His yell once again resounded between the walls, the skins of his wrinkly face stretching as he grabbed them with despair.

Beval shrieked back, "But boss, you called for me!" He pleaded with an innocent look, unbefitting of his large stature.

The man was speechless, his complexion resembling a piece of colorful artwork.

"Unbelievable," he mumbled with incredulity at his subordinate's incompetence.

He then screamed once more, "Well, what are you standing around for, lead me to the customer!"

"Of course boss, follow me." Beval bowed once more and led his employer to the waiting customer, the two slaves still standing in place, naked as ever.

Eventually, after a few turns and through multiple doors, the two arrived at the reception hall.

Waiting for them was a pale young man. The black suit he wore signified his standing as a noble, while the chilling red eyes exuded an aura of excellence.

"Greetings your lordship, I apologize for the wait. My name is Monspiet Cil Zor, how may i be of service."

The young man, in turn, took his hat off and greeted the slave master.

"Good morning, , my name is Momon, just Momon."

...A noble that doesn't want to reveal his surname, well no matter

Zor thought as he looked at Momonga.

"I was wondering if you could assist me in choosing a few slaves today."

"Of course, of course, your lordship, we have a large selection in stock, do you have a specific type you desire?" Zor answered as he rubbed his hands, the greed written all over his gestures.

"No, please show me your selection, i will make my decision then."

"Of course, follow me." Zor bowed with his hands behind his back as he gestured for Momonga to follow. His fingers twitched in certain patterns to which Beval interpreted it as a command to be on his best behavior, or...he's dead.

The trio walked away from the waiting room and towards a hallway. Filling the walls were paintings or perhaps pictures of all manners of people, all of whom were in chains. Perhaps a trophy display?

Soon enough, they arrived before at the end of the hallway. Instead of a door, a velvet veil covered the opening in the wall. The standing guards held each side of the veil thus making way for the trio to pass.

Momonga soon came upon a warehouse like interior. The place was littered with stacks upon stacks of cages, all of whom were organised in a logistical fashion. There were multiple aisles with at least twenty cages in each. Momonga notices how the physical well being of the slaves changed depending on the isle they resided in, perhaps a tier like system to categorise different ranks of a product?

The fit slaves carried with them empty looks, as if in some sort of trance, while their ragged counterparts sat within the corners of their cages fully conscious.

A few shivered with an eternal fear, others with denial, and some sat with indifference.

Momonga observed the place with an indifferent face, completely ignoring the two naked figures in his peripheral vision.

Zor on the other hand was trembling, he quickly signaled for Beval, to which he discreetly walked away and placed the slaves back in their cage.

"Sir...if i may ask, what will you be using the slaves for?" Zor asked his customer, in hopes of gaining information to better help his customer.

"Hmm...at this moment in time, i simply need an attendant, a secretary of sorts."

Zor's face lit up at this response.

"Of course, of course, if I may give recommendations, please have a look at the one in aisle 5 bay 6."

He pointed towards a young man with a fit figure and a general look of intelligence.

"This one used to be an official of a nomadic tribe that once roamed the Arselic forest. He has a decade of experience as a helper. He once acted as the right hand of said tribe's chief. While a bit pricey, he fits the role of secretary best. What do you think sir?"

The words of Zor, however, flowed through one ear and out the other, figuratively of course.

Momonga was staring at a particular cage. From the moment he entered the room he felt drawn to the figure lying in the cage, as if a moth attracted to the mage. He knew not why but the magnetic feeling he got was strange to say the least.

Ignoring the ramblings of the slaver master, he walked towards the cage.

Standing before it he finally had a good look at the figure inside.

An unconscious and ragged child was lying in the corner, at least what looked like one. Her face was face deformed beyond reckoning, her nose flat, as if sliced off. The malnutritioned skin wrapped around her thin bones. Some of her dirt encased hair was scattered around the room, a portion of her scalp showing in patches. She lied there half dead.

"I want this one." Momonga said.

This is foolish, he told himself.

This goes against all reason, his heart quaked.

What could I possibly gain from a weak human, let alone one as close to death as this one?

Countless contradictions went on in the mind of the king of death.

But for some reason, he still found himself wanting to have his hands on this child no matter what, even if he has to fight the world for it.

The magnetic feeling in his phantom heart cried with a burning desire.

It was as if this pitiful creature represented his future.

The key to his goals.

A holy grail.

Not knowing why, the overlord of death abided by his crying instinct.

Don't feel good about this chapter either. It was short because I simply ran out of bullshit to pull out my ass. Anyway thanks for reading and good day. Leave your thoughts in the reviews.