The Opal Palace was the name of a large complex of luxurious villas sprawled through an oasis in the middle of the Dead Plains. Each year it hosted the biggest auction of the Continent's underworld - during the event, unimaginable amounts of gold changed hands, as well as stolen goods, rare minerals, exotic slaves, and any other category of illegal merch. Four towers formed a square around the perimeter of the complex, each occupied by a light mage, guards, and a backup portable Lighthouse. While this kind of setup was common for capitals and other large cities, the use of four light mages was more of a show of opulence than for actual safety - two would suffice in most cases.

The owners of the Opal Palace, the Fantino family, were a criminal organization expert in the 'retrieval' of ancient objects of power. Their most famous possession was an artifact called the Opal of Antaquina, a large glassy multicolored stone that, once placed in the middle of the complex, cloaked its appearance so that onlookers would see nothing but a blur. Thus, only those who already knew where it was could reach it.

The convoy of Lady Sharyah arrived the day before the start of the auction. Rall wanted to run away, but Fiel guarded him at all times. Still, he bided his time. They did not know how well he could hide his Fairylight, so one opportunity was all he needed. Still, the flashy clothing and the chains that bound his iron collar with the cuffs around his feet and hands would make an escape difficult.

Once at the gates, a couple of intimidating guards dressed in full-black armor stopped the convoy. They were members of the Obsidian Warriors, the number-one mercenary group in the Continent. The auction made many dangerous people come together for money, which was clearly a recipe for chaos - the Obsidian Warriors were the only independent group strong enough to prevent many unfortunate 'accidents' from occurring. For the last twenty years, the Fantinos had poured millions of gold coins into their services.

Sharyah exited the carriage, and from her ample cleavage, she fetched a small bag of coins and gave it to the guards. "Here's my token. Let Mister Fantino know that I have something he should look at."

One of the guards nodded politely. "Welcome back, Lady Sharyah. We will inform him right away." They took the token and opened the gates. "No escort this time, milady?" The oldest of the guards asked since he was taking note of attendance.

She smiled mysteriously. "Let's just say they weren't up to par."

Once inside, the sheer amount of people and carriages that moved around the Opal Palace astonished Rall. It was like a small bustling city inhabited by individuals of all forms and colors. He recognized a group of dark elves from the Hestling Forest discussing something between themselves, a couple of wealthy gnomes from the Garwin Kingdom, and even a black lizardman that was riding a large manticore through the crowd. He heard languages he had never heard, smelled spices he had never smelled, saw monsters he had never seen. If he didn't know the truth about this place, he would've been amazed.

But he knew. Those people were criminals, the worst of the worst, the most influential, and the most powerful. There were entire carriages full of riches and stolen goods. How many people had been stepped on for them to amass such wealth all in one place?

Then there were the slaves. People of many races, some he didn't even know the names of, all united in the same sullen expression. They had all realized that they would never have their freedom back, that they would never return to their homes and hug their families, their friends, their lovers. It was the same all over the world, the Fog had made sure that many of the weaker populations could not expand, could not develop, and that made them perfect targets for poachers and slavers. The exotic snow elves were one of this kind.

The convoy stopped, and Fiel exited the carriage to manage the unloading of the slaves.

Rall was now alone with Lady Sharyah, and she kept looking at him like he was a tasty snack.

"Why do you do this?" Rall asked out of the blue.

"Why do I do what?" She feigned innocence.

"This," he spread his arms as wide as the chains permitted, "all this. It's evil, so why do you do it?"

She laughed heartily at the naivete of the question. With their few exchanges, she had come to think of Rall as more than an eight-year-old. "Evil, you say. And what is 'evil' for you?" She responded.

"You take people as slaves. You steal their freedom, and you drag them away from their villages, from their families. And you do all that for gold. Is that not evil?"

She gave him a thoughtful look. "Little Rall, what do you know about Snow Elves?"

He had to think about it for a second, then answered. "They live in the Northern Tundra, and they have black eyes."

"Right, that is what most people know about them. But let me tell you something more. The Northern Tundra is right south the Deep North, where the Fog resides. Every time the Fog assaults the Continent, they have to sacrifice two children to save their village. They choose them with a lottery, and the lucky winners always walk willingly to their deaths."

"What about light mages?" Rall asked.

"When a light mage is born from the Snow Elves, they get immediately killed, and their parents exiled from the tribe."

"Why?!" Rall was astonished.

"Culture. Snow Elves see the Fog as a divine entity that has come to the world to cleanse their sins. Light mages are the Fog's enemy, so they represent an obstacle in their path to purity. Hence, they carve their small hearts out and throw them in the fire."

Rall could not believe her - religious fanatism was a concept his rational mind could not understand.

"So tell me," Sheryah resumed, "Are the snow elves evil? They kill innocent babies just because they have a Fairylight. They send children to death so that they can survive."

"Yes," Rall answered, "I think they are."

"But they don't think so. If the snow elves saw you and that orb of light behind you, they would say you are evil."

"But I am not!"

"See, that is just a matter of perspective. What if you knew that a snow elf that I sold as a slave would have been a sacrifice instead? Did I save their life? Did I do good?"

Half a minute passed, but Rall stayed silent, trying to find an answer to that ethical dilemma. Life in the village was simpler - everything was either good or evil. But what now?

"A long time ago, I was a slave too. I was desperate, terrified that my Mistress would kill me on a whim as she had done with others. Instead, she took a liking to me and taught me everything she knew. And now, I am the Mistress. Was that good? Was that bad? It does not matter. What matters is that I was given a chance to survive, and I took it."

Rall was still speechless. "I don't know. It does not feel right..."

"Think about your case. I could've left you to die in the Dead Plains." Sharyah interrupted him. "Would you have preferred that instead of being sold as a slave?"

"No, I still have much to do. I can't die yet!" Rall explained.

Sharyah smiled as his resolve returned. "Good boy. Then how about this. Do whatever you can to survive, become strong enough to protect your freedom, then search for me. At that time, you will tell me your final answer."

A commotion from the outside interrupted their discussion.

"Lady Sharyah, COME OUT OF THERE!" A man with a deep and powerful voice shouted.

"Go away, don't disturb my Lady." Echoed the voice of an angry Fiel.

A blue flash of light was followed by the sound of trembling earth. It seemed the sorcerer had used his magic on whoever had disturbed him.

"Piss off, ant. I only talk to the boss." The powerful voice said.

Sharyah sighed with an expression of annoyance, then opened the door to meet whoever was causing the disturbance.

When she opened the door, Rall saw a three-meter giant holding Fiel one meter from the ground, his hand comfortably enveloping the sorcerer's head. Several individuals in golden armor formed a circle around the convoy, emitting an intimidating aura with their dense internal energies.

Nonetheless, Sharyah remained emotionless. She stood fearless in front of the group, her right hand on her hip as she proudly showed her gorgeous curves. "No man in this world has the right to order me around. Let my subordinate go and state your business." Of course, she knew who the giant man was.

The Giant did not let go of Fiel - instead, he squeezed his head harder. "I am Don Ghon, head of the Golden Knives. My men were escorting you. where are they?"

"Oooh, right. Those guys, I completely forgot. They tried to steal something of mine, and now their brains are splattered on the Dead Plains." She said playfully.

Don squeezed harder, Fiel's cries of pain attracted many onlookers.

"Good, you made things easier." Said the giant. "GO!"

The golden-armored mercenaries jumped on the woman, their attacks swifter than the one from Sargar's men. Still, Sharyah kept up the calmness of her bearing.

In an instant, dark streaks moved to intercept the attackers, effortlessly disarming and submitting them on the ground. They were the elite forces from the Obsidian Warriors.

The deep voice of a burly woman sounded through the silence. She was two and a half meters tall, with tanned skin and short brown hair. On her back rested a heavy-looking warhammer that emitted a fearsome aura of death.

Anyone could notice a striking resemblance with Don Ghon.

"Bring your Golden Toothpicks away with you, little brother. You are not ready to fight here." While half a meter shorter than Don, she did not even try hiding her sense of superiority. She was Rana Ghon, sister of Don and vice-captain of the Obsidian Warriors.

The nerves on Don's body tensed as he became red with rage. He violently sent Fiel crashing on the hard ground twenty meters behind him then he dashed towards his sister.

"Martial Technique - Meteor Punch!!!" He screamed. Internal energy boiled around his fist, lighting it on fire.

She smirked and, with practiced movements, she lowered into a fighting position with her left leg forward and her right fist near her hip.

"Martial Technique - Meteor Punch." She whispered.

Their burning fists met mid-air, generating a shockwave almost strong enough to capsize the carriage where Rall sat.

When the dust settled, Don's right fist had turned to mush - pieces of shattered bones were visible through his bloodied skin. Meanwhile, Rana's fist was unhurt, still fuming with the heat.

Don ignored the pain and stomped the ground in rage, carving a small crater in it. Then he turned around and started walking away. The Obsidian Warriors let the Golden Knives' subordinates get up and slowly stumble behind their boss, thoroughly humiliated.

Rall had watched the whole scene through the carriage's open door, his mouth widened in awe. His eyes hadn't even been able to follow that last exchange, but he still felt it.

Strong, If I can become that strong, I can be free.