The tunnel was narrower than Ezra had anticipated.
The walls were made of dried clay and jagged rocks. At times, the ceiling hung so low that they were forced to crawl. The air here was damp and smelled... foul. Like the scent of a carcass. Or the scent of fear.
"How much further?" Ezra whispered.
"Maybe 200 meters, sir."
They pressed on. Ben's flashlight only illuminated a few meters ahead—their shadows danced against the tunnel walls like ghosts.
Then, Ezra heard something.
Voices.
Many voices.
Muffled and mingled with the clinking of chains and iron bars.
"We're here, sir." Ben's voice trembled.
Ezra crawled forward. The tunnel opened up into a massive chamber—the size of a football field.
And inside that space...
Cages.
Dozens of iron cages, each containing human beings. Men. Women. Children. Some lay weak on the filthy floors of their enclosures. Others sat huddled, clutching their knees, their eyes vacant.
And in the center of the hall stood a wooden stage. Atop the stage, a man dressed in a black suit was addressing a group of buyers—pot-bellied men with thick wallets strapped to their waists.
"...and for the next lot, we have a female Elf, 22 years old, still a virgin, Level 2 arcane abilities. Starting price: 200,000 IGE..."
Ezra felt his blood begin to boil.
He had long heard stories about the black market. But hearing and seeing... were two very different things.
"Sir..." Ben tugged at Ezra's arm. "You promised—you told me if you said run, I should run. But sir... please don't do anything stupid."
Ezra took a deep breath.
"I won't do anything stupid, Ben. But I need to know where they are keeping..."
"Maya."
The voice came from behind them.
Ezra turned. A girl—perhaps 19 years old—stood at the mouth of the tunnel. Her hair was short, and her face was covered in dirt and bruises. Her shirt was torn at the shoulder.
"Are you looking for Maya?" the girl asked.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Sari. I'm Maya's friend. We were captured together."
"Where is Maya?"
"She's..." Sari bit her lip. "She's in the special detention block. For... for tonight's auction. They said... she is the main lot."
Ezra looked toward the stage. A female Elf was being dragged up by two armed men.
"The main lot," Ezra repeated. "Meaning..."
"Meaning, they are saving her for the wealthiest buyer. Perhaps... perhaps a nobleman. Or... or a foreigner."
"We need to rescue her before the auction."
Sari shook her head. "It's impossible, sir. The special detention block is guarded 24 hours a day. Six armed guards. The only door... is behind the stage."
Ezra stared at the stage. Behind it sat a single iron door. Two guards stood watch.
"Two guards at the door. Likely more inside," Ezra said, half to himself.
"Sir, I told you... this is a suicide mission."
Ezra ignored Ben. His eyes remained fixed on that iron door.
"Is there another way?" he asked Sari.
The girl fell silent. Then, "There is. But you won't like it."
"Tell me."
"Every auction, they have... VIPs. Special buyers. They enter through the back door. They don't have to go through security checks."
"VIPs? How do I become a VIP?"
"You look... like a man of means. If you wore a suit, carried a bag of money, and acted like a nobleman... they might believe it."
Ezra looked down at his clothes—a black leather jacket, jeans, and worn-out boots.
"I don't have a suit."
"I do, sir." Ben pulled a plastic bag from his backpack. Inside was a high-end black suit—likely Imperial Tailors brand.
"You... you brought a suit?"
"I thought you might need it, sir. For... for a disguise."
Ezra looked at Ben for a long moment. This young man was sharper than he had given him credit for.
"Thank you, Ben."