Eleven months had passed since Joel and his peculiar “family” had arrived on the world of Gaea. Nine months in which everything had changed so profoundly that, even now, it was difficult to imagine how they had gotten to this point. Nothing had unfolded as he had foreseen, and yet, every decision made seemed to have firmly propelled them toward an inevitable future.

  After Nana’s experiments on the first prisoners, Joel hadn’t remained idle.

  He traveled to various nearby cities, especially to the north, where trade was more intense and information plentiful. There, he gathered valuable data on the regional economy and the political situation, listened to recent rumors, and learned the names of the most powerful individuals in the nation. People whose mere mention was enough to induce silence. People from whom, without a doubt, he should stay far away.

  At the same time, he began frequenting the black markets… always under false identities. He changed his face, his story, and his attitude with ease. Thanks to his newfound fortune in crystals, he was able to acquire various interesting mystical artifacts, many of which quickly ended up in Nana's hands. She collected them, studied them, and patiently tried to dismantle them, attempting to understand the principles that governed their operation.

  The result, however, was somewhat disappointing. Aside from a few useful weapons and minor artifacts, Joel found nothing truly revolutionary. Nothing that even approached what he considered a genuine technological or mystical leap. Over time, he discovered that the best weapons and artifacts—those designed for warriors of far higher levels than mere experts and masters—were only found in the capital and major cities, beyond the reach of ordinary trade and, of course, the traditional black market.

  Only through the smuggler merchant of Pseinion did Joel finally acquire a level 4, Master-rank weapon. The price was as exorbitant as it was insulting: four hundred level 1 crystals. In return, he received a superbly crafted short sword, capable of regenerating its edge over time and cutting through any ordinary steel with sufficient force.

  That was a hefty sum of level 1 crystals.

  Because they were far more readily available than higher-level crystals, he soon discovered that most mystical items were traded in these level 1 crystals, regardless of whether you ended up paying with higher-level ones. In those cases, a locally fixed currency conversion was used.

  Compared to his old katana, in purely technical terms, the new sword was superior in every way. However, when Joel imbued his katana with his own spirit and mana, the difference vanished completely. That weapon, bound to his will, displayed characteristics that no other could match. The katana grew with him, adapted to his strength, and could easily be considered level 6.

  The inevitable question arose on its own. Where had Joel gotten so many crystals in such a short time?

  The answer was simple… and at the same time, disturbingly unsettling: Nana and the numerous prisoners who had fallen into her hands.

  After he began frequenting the black markets more often, encounters with criminals and bandits became increasingly common. Joel would have preferred to demonstrate a bit of his true strength to stop being a constant target, but the medallion created by Ahsoka completely concealed his real power. Besides, he wasn't willing to discover if there were inhabitants of Gaea capable of distinguishing the aura of a mage from that of a mystical warrior.

  It was too dangerous a question. And Connor, unfortunately, didn't have the answer.

  As a result, Joel had to endure multiple attempts at robbery and assassination. Clumsy ambushes, desperate attacks, and poorly planned betrayals. Each of those encounters ended the same way: with new prisoners under her control, none of whom survived as free individuals. They all ended up being integrated into what, without euphemism, could already be considered Nana's crystal farm.

  Among those captured were three new mystic adepts… and surprisingly, one expert. This last one, in particular, proved to be an exceptional resource, capable of producing up to thirty level one crystals per week. An invaluable asset.

  If you considered both the crystals Joel had acquired with gold on the black market and those produced by Nana, there was no doubt: he could already be considered a fairly wealthy man. Not on the level of the great governors or the most powerful merchant houses, but rich enough to move freely and buy favors.

  This new position even led him to acquire several properties scattered across different cities. Nothing ostentatious. Discreet homes, located in middle-class residential neighborhoods, far from luxury and also far from poverty. Unremarkable places, easy to overlook, but perfect for logistics, storage… or for hiding if the situation ever warranted it.

  Even so, all that wasn't enough. Not even close.

  His own research made it clear: to truly access the best markets, the opportunities that shaped the destiny of entire nations, it wasn't enough to be "rich." You had to manage thousands, even hundreds of thousands of crystals. And not just level one.

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  The black market allowed him to acquire level two crystals on several occasions, and in one exceptional circumstance, he even managed to purchase a level three crystal. Under normal conditions, the conversion rate ranged from five to ten level one crystals for each level two crystal, and a similar ratio applied to level three crystals compared to level two crystals.

  The problem, as always, was supply and demand.

  To obtain that single level three crystal, Joel was forced to hand over twelve level two crystals in what turned into a tense and dangerous impromptu auction. It was, without a doubt, the main reason he attracted the attention of the mystical expert who would later try to kill him.

  Nana, meanwhile, was still unable to produce crystals higher than level one. Analyses of the level two and three crystals revealed that their formation required far more extreme conditions: colossal pressures, an abnormally high energy density under normal circumstances, and a stability almost impossible to maintain for very long.

  But she was convinced she could do it. Given time… a lot of time.

  The pressures she would have to work with were so immense that Joel wasn't willing to risk the entire shelter exploding. Therefore, a new testing laboratory was being built further south, hidden within an isolated hill, with no visible physical access points. Nana could only enter through portals, minimizing any external… or internal risk.

  It was then that Joel, deliberately ignoring any lingering moral qualms, began plotting a way to acquire more prisoners, and above all, higher-quality ones, for Nana's crystal farm.

  The answer emerged almost inevitably: the direct purchase of slaves from the conflict with the Duchy of Migozyria.

  Slavery in Gaea was a complex matter, and Dirmistan was no exception. For example, while such cases existed, it was frowned upon to abuse or assault slaves, especially in public.

  The law was clear, at least on the surface, and established three well-defined categories of slaves.

  The first group consisted of contract slaves. These were adult men and women who, driven by insurmountable debt or by their own choice, accepted slavery for a specific period. These agreements were mediated by local authorities, and in most cases, the slaves ended up working for government agencies or large organizations. They were common in mining, logging, agriculture, and large shipping fleets. Mostly human, they retained numerous rights, and almost no one considered them slaves in the strict sense of the word.

  The second category consisted of the so-called Legacy Slaves. In Dirmistan, these were almost exclusively demihumans: men, women, and children of all ages, brought from other nations and traded with relative freedom. In theory, they possessed few rights beyond the guarantee of life and minimal sustenance. However, it was not uncommon for owners to end up treating them as part of their family. Some were even freed before reaching old age, with enough resources to return to their homeland. In exceptional cases, owners without heirs had even bequeathed all their possessions to the slaves who accompanied them to the end of their lives.

  Joel wondered if families formed by the union of humans and demihuman slaves existed. The answer was no. Although romantic relationships between different races were not impossible, such unions did not produce offspring. And in a society where children were the cornerstone of the family, their absence prevented the formation of lasting bonds between different species.

  The third and final category of slaves was the darkest: the condemned. Individuals sentenced for high-profile crimes, forced to live as slaves for life, regardless of race. They were assigned to the most dangerous jobs, either until death or, with exceptional luck, surviving into a miserable old age and ending their days in common prisons. They had no rights, and their trade between governorships and large organizations was a common practice.

  As a general rule, prisoners of war did not usually end up as slaves when the conflict was between nations of the same race. There were tacit agreements, unwritten codes, and a certain illusion of civility that, at least on the surface, limited excesses. However, as in any system, there were clear exceptions.

  War crimes were one of them. And on the border with Migozyria, these crimes were becoming alarmingly frequent.

  Much of the blame lay with the mercenary companies in the service of the duchy, made up mostly of warriors brought from the Fullgorth Empire. Individuals with no roots in the region, with histories stained by extreme violence and an absolute lack of scruples. For them, the border was nothing more than fertile ground where chaos could be turned into profit. And of course, the responsible authorities always found a way to distance themselves from such acts.

  Those who were captured—especially if they were mystical warriors—once tried and sentenced, lost any semblance of humanity before the law. They became condemned slaves of the worst kind. Without rights, without protection, and with no one willing to pity their fate. For most, it was simply justice.

  The black market, as always, primarily sold information. And Joel found plenty of material on the state of the conflict. Stability was fragile, almost illusory. Clashes between mercenaries from both sides were constant, and in some skirmishes, the direct involvement of regular regiments was already becoming apparent.

  That wasn't a good sign. Everything indicated that Dirmistan's leadership wasn't about to let another of its provinces fall under Fullgorth's influence. Some rumors even spoke of clashes between highly skilled mystic warriors, confrontations that were never officially recorded, but whose effects were felt for miles around.

  Joel still didn't quite grasp the logic behind such an open yet carefully contained conflict. It was like a poorly disguised cold war, where the real hostilities rested almost entirely on the shoulders of the mercenary companies. A precarious balance, sustained by the blood of others.

  He didn't like it at all. But he couldn't ignore it either. He had to adapt… and make the most of it.

  To that end, he turned to reputable mercenary companies. Not the strongest or most famous, but those least likely to swindle their clients and most interested in keeping their reputations clean. He hired them with a clear and specific mission: to locate, acquire, and transport the worst convicts they could find.

  It wasn't easy. Many companies immediately rejected the job. Some refused even to get too close to the border, fearing they'd be caught in a military escalation or become collateral damage. Others simply didn't want to tarnish their reputations with such a… shady assignment.

  However, money was still the universal language. With the right incentives, Joel managed to convince two companies with solid track records and relatively unblemished reputations: the Valiant Hearts and the Red Hammers.

  The investment was considerable. For Joel, even dangerous. He had to dedicate long hours to conjuring gold and delve into even more black markets to gather the necessary amount of crystals. Not only to pay the mercenaries, but also to buy the condemned slaves they acquired.

  More than once, he succumbed to the temptation of displaying excessive wealth, just enough to attract opportunistic bandits and ambitious criminals. On more than one occasion, the strategy worked better than expected.

  And so, almost as an inevitable side effect, some additional individuals ended up swelling Nana's crystal farm.

  Joel wasn't fooling himself. He knew that every step took him a little further from any pretense of innocence. But on Gaea, as on every world he'd been to, surviving—and thriving—had never been a matter of morality.