Building a Terrorist Group in The Academy Novel

After the initial excitement, the auction continued smoothly.

All the guests had satisfied smiles on their faces, clearly pleased after witnessing such a spectacle.

It wasn’t every day you got to see a rank 5 warrior and two powerhouses competing for him.

Once the barbarian was wheeled away in his cage, Iris resumed the auction with her ever-charming smile.

Two workers entered, pushing a slightly larger cage, covered again with a black cloth. It was clear there was more than one slave inside.

With her captivating voice, Iris explained, “This next product comes directly from the Elven Forests, located to the east of the empire. It wasn’t easy to bring this slave here. After all, it’s frowned upon to have elf slaves since they’re considered allies of the empire.”

Her voice dropped a little, teasingly, “But that’s why it’s here tonight.” She winked playfully at the crowd, adding with a mischievous smile, “This is our little secret, right? No one’s going to say anything, are they?”

Many in the crowd chuckled, understanding the unspoken agreement.

Aiden thought to himself that this was a common practice in both worlds—everyone knew what was happening, but no one said anything.

There were probably thousands of elves enslaved in the homes of imperial nobles. But without evidence, nothing could be done.

And if word ever got out from here, the political consequences for whoever spoke up would be severe. It was easy to see who would keep their mouth shut.

Iris reached for the cloth and dramatically pulled it away, revealing a group of five elves, shackled by chains around their necks—three men and two women.

They were dressed in rags, barely covering their intimate areas, clearly meant to showcase the health of the slaves.

Huddled together, trembling, they looked around in terror.

Aiden noticed one thing they all had in common: even while cowering, their beauty was unmistakable.

The women had delicate, slender bodies. Their breasts were modest, not overly large, but it was their elongated faces and fine, flawless skin that stood out.

Their beauty wasn’t overwhelming, but it was undeniable.

Their pointed ears and blonde hair only added to their ethereal look.

As the men in the crowd laid eyes on the trembling women, their gazes lit up with lust. It was clear what they were imagining they could do once the elves were in their possession.

The women shivered even more, sensing the vile intentions behind those looks. They knew all too well what awaited them.

The men shared the same striking features as the women, only taller and equally attractive.

Some noblewomen in the crowd licked their lips as they eyed the elf men. It was common for powerful women to keep handsome slaves to satisfy their personal desires.

Iris continued with her enchanting smile, “These five are sold as a group. We took a risk bringing them here because I know many of you have been asking for elves for some time. This batch could easily serve as the foundation for an elf breeding farm.”

She paused briefly, letting the words sink in before adding, “Whether you want pureblood elves or half-elves, that’s entirely up to you.”

“The starting bid is 100,000 gold coins, with a minimum increase of 5,000.”

Aiden’s thoughts stirred as he heard this. Although expensive, he knew elves were incredibly exotic.

What was even more twisted was the thought that an elven slave could serve multiple generations of a family.

This was a secure investment—a person could enjoy them, and then they’d be passed down to their children and grandchildren.

The world was clearly rotten to its core, and Aiden hadn’t even left his home city to see it. He felt a slight twinge of pity for their fate.

The guests began placing their bids, the numbers quickly climbing.

"150,000!" a man from the lower rows shouted.

"175,000!" a woman followed immediately.

Among the more frequent bidders was Count Maverick, a nobleman from the northern faction loyal to the Duke of Iron.

He was a corpulent, sweaty man, notorious for his cruel treatment of slaves. His reputation had spread far and wide—he was infamous for torturing his slaves to death.

And for those unfortunate enough to survive, their fate was often worse than dying.

People whispered below:

“That’s Count Maverick, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I heard he breaks his slaves... no one leaves his estate the same.”

“He’s got a taste for tormenting them, from what I’ve heard.”

Maverick’s yellowed teeth gleamed through a sinister grin. His dirty smile matched the image of a villain from a cheap novel. His voice, slick and greasy, cut through the air.

"200,000," he growled, almost savoring the number.

Iris barely skipped a beat, her charming smile still in place as she kept the pace of the auction flowing.

On the other side of the room, Viscountess Shul, a noblewoman from the western provinces, placed her own bids.

She was also on the heavier side but much more composed than Maverick, her sights set firmly on the three male elves.

"220,000!" Shul called out, her voice calm yet determined.

Back and forth the two went, with others dropping out as the price soared. The room echoed with raised voices, eager to claim the exotic prize.

"240,000!"

"260,000!"

Yet, Count Maverick and Viscountess Shul stood out as the most aggressive, their bids coming rapid-fire, with each pushing the price higher.

"300,000!" Maverick spat, his eyes gleaming with greed.

Shul smirked, raising the stakes. "350,000."

The back-and-forth continued, escalating in jumps of 5,000 or even 10,000 at a time.

The tension in the room grew palpable, especially as the bids crossed the half-million mark.

"630,000," Maverick called out, his voice oozing with confidence.

Viscountess Shul hesitated for a moment, but after some consideration, she sighed and backed down.

The elves, seeing their fate sealed, looked toward Maverick in horror. Their faces twisted with pure despair, their bodies trembling as they let out heart-wrenching screams.

They didn’t need to know his name—his vile voice was enough to make them understand the nightmare that awaited them.

A murmur of pity rippled through the crowd. Many clicked their tongues in disappointment, clearly feeling the elves were wasted on a man like Maverick.

Aiden, watching all of this unfold, found himself more of an observer than a participant.

It was hard to remain indifferent when you witnessed such cruelty. Time dragged on as one hour passed, during which various slaves were paraded on stage.

Warriors and mages, not as powerful as the barbarian from earlier, but still formidable, ranging from level 2 to 3, were auctioned off in batches.

There were former nobles who had fallen from grace as well, convicted of corruption or treason against the empire.

When Aiden saw their defeated faces, he couldn’t help but feel a twisted sense of relief—he was lucky his father was only corrupt. Otherwise, he might have ended up like one of them.

Demi-humans, both male and female, were also presented, drawing excited bids, though not as fervent as before.

Prices for many reached impressive amounts, particularly when a level 3 mage was sold for nearly 1.5 million gold coins.

Clearly, power didn’t come cheap, especially when it came to loyal subordinates.

After an hour of this steady pace, Iris, wearing a knowing smile, paused and addressed the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, our next offering is our last one but it is a bit... controversial."

She let the words hang in the air, her voice teasing the audience.

"Not everyone here may be willing to bid on this slave. In fact, there is a certain danger involved just by having her in the room tonight."

Her statement caused a wave of murmurs through the crowd.

People whispered to one another in confusion, some clearly intrigued, others already eager to see who or what was behind the next cage.

Iris continued with an even broader smile, the air thick with anticipation. "This next slave comes directly from the Emperor himself."

The room erupted in gasps, followed by an uproar of voices. The crowd was stunned, many now on the edge of their seats.

A few attendees had expected this revelation, their faces betraying little surprise, but for most, it was an astonishing turn of events.

“Directly from the fallen royal family of the Artesian Kingdom,” Iris said, her voice gleaming with pride as she revealed the next twist, “the First Princess, Serena von Artesia.”

With a dramatic flair, Iris pulled away the cloth covering the cage. Inside stood a young woman, her black, silky hair cascading down her back, reaching her waist like a flowing midnight river.

Her eyes, a striking violet, glowed faintly in the dim light, reminiscent of a twilight sky, with a dull, almost lifeless quality. Those drooping eyes gave her an aura of indifference, as if the world around her no longer concerned her.

Her skin was pale, the signature trait of Artesian royalty, so fair it seemed to glow faintly in the dim light.

Unlike the other slaves, she wore a simple white dress that contrasted sharply with her raven-black hair. Her voluptuous figure rivaled even Iris’s, her beauty so remarkable that it was easy to imagine an empire waging war over her.

But what caught Aiden’s attention most was the emptiness in her expression. She didn’t react to the crowd or her surroundings, as if none of it mattered to her.

Her eyes, though lifeless, didn’t belong to someone who had lost the will to live. They were the eyes of someone completely detached, indifferent to anything and everything around her.

The room fell into a hushed silence. No one could believe what they were seeing.

The First Princess of the Artesian Kingdom.

Men and women alike were mesmerized, their gazes locked onto the figure in the cage, unable to tear their eyes away.

Sensing the captivated silence, Iris broke the tension with her polished voice. "As you can see, this woman is a beauty beyond compare. Some say the Emperor destroyed the Artesian Kingdom just to claim her for himself."

But her next words hit the room like a bucket of cold water.

"However, this woman is a walking curse."

The crowd, already on edge, reacted with gasps and murmurs of disbelief.

"Everyone who has had contact with her... has died."

Iris’s eyes flicked over the audience. "The Emperor, unwilling to believe the rumors, had two rank 5 warriors touch her hand. Within three days, both were dead from an unknown curse."