When we finally returned to my house after visiting the blacksmith, the exhaustion hit me all at once. My body felt heavier than it should have, every step reminding me that I'd pushed myself far past what was normal.
Instinctively, I opened my status screen.
Name: Amos Ryder
Class: True Hybrid
HP: 55 / 120
MP: 1 / 100
Kills: 2
Strength: D
Intelligence: D
Constitution: D
Dexterity: C
Wisdom: S
My eyes immediately locked onto the changes.
"Kills: 2."
That was new.
So was my maximum health.
My HP cap had increased by twenty.
I frowned, staring at the numbers as if they might change again if I looked long enough. I had never heard of something like this happening. In every story, every kingdom record, every adventurer's tale—it was always the same. Health increased slowly, painfully slowly. Usually through rare potions brewed by specialists, or through long weeks of physical conditioning that barely moved the needle.
But this?
Two kills. One day. Twenty HP.
It didn't make sense.
What unsettled me even more was what hadn't changed.
My current HP and MP hadn't recovered at all.
No slow regeneration. No natural recovery.
That was wrong.
Humans regenerated over time—it was basic knowledge. Slowly, yes, but steadily. Even resting for an hour usually restored something. Other races had their own methods—mana cycling, blood recovery, ambient absorption—but everyone regenerated in some way.
Everyone except me.
I flexed my fingers, feeling the lingering ache beneath my skin, the emptiness where mana should have been. Whatever being a True Hybrid meant, it clearly came with rules I didn't understand yet.
Rules that broke what the world considered normal.
With my regeneration still unmoving, I decided to test another method—one that was known across the kingdoms, but whispered rather than taught.
Blood.
Vampires didn't regenerate naturally like humans. They healed by drinking blood, converting life essence directly into vitality and mana. It was dangerous, taboo, and looked down upon by almost every race—but it worked.
If I truly was a Hybrid… then there was a chance it might work for me too.
I slowly turned my gaze toward Slug.
He noticed immediately, one thick brow lifting in question.
I stopped myself before the thought went any further.
"No," I muttered under my breath.
Goblin blood was infamous. Even among alchemists, it was considered foul—thick, bitter, and often toxic to non-goblins due to impurities from their diet and physiology. Drinking it raw wasn't just unpleasant; it was risky.
Very risky.
Slug snorted when he realized what I had been thinking.
"You look like someone deciding whether to eat spoiled meat," he said dryly.
I exhaled, rubbing my temple.
That was when a different thought surfaced—one colder, more calculating.
If blood was the requirement… then the source mattered.
A controlled source. A compatible one.
My gaze drifted, uncomfortably, to the system notification still lingering faintly in my memory.
/New slave acquired/
I didn't like the direction my thoughts were taking—but survival didn't care about comfort, morality, or appearances.
If I was going to test this method, it needed to be done properly.
Carefully.
And with someone whose blood wouldn't kill me outright.
With that realization, my first grim conclusion formed.
If this path truly worked…
Then I would need another slave.
Not out of cruelty.
But necessity.
Once again, I headed back toward town—this time alone.
Slug had been left behind to escort Guk safely to the goblin camp. As much as I trusted Slug in a fight, I trusted him even more to keep order. The goblins would listen to him. Guk… would follow him.
The sun was already beginning its slow descent as I made my way through familiar streets, boots striking stone with a steady rhythm. My destination was clear.
Dave's Slave Trading House.
The same place where I had bought Slug.
The wooden sign creaked softly as I pushed the door open. The smell hit me immediately—iron, sweat, old straw, and something faintly chemical. Nothing had changed.
Jessy stood behind the counter again.
Her bright, professional smile appeared the moment she noticed me—then faltered just slightly as recognition set in. It vanished quickly, replaced by polite restraint.
"What can I do for you?" she asked, her tone courteous but unmistakably annoyed.
"I need to purchase another slave," I said plainly.
Her eyebrow twitched.
She leaned back slightly, folding her arms before asking, "And what's your budget this time?"
"Ten gold coins."
For a heartbeat, she froze.
Then her eyes widened—not dramatically, but enough to betray her surprise. Ten gold was no small sum. It was ten times what I had paid for Slug.
Her annoyance vanished instantly, replaced by something sharper.
Interest.
"Well," Jessy said smoothly, her smile returning—brighter, more genuine this time. "That changes things."
She straightened, gesturing toward the iron-barred hallway leading deeper into the building.
"With that budget, you won't be looking at common labor stock," she continued. "You'll be choosing from premium inventory. Strong bodies. Rare races. Even… special traits, if you're lucky."
I followed her without a word.
As we walked, the sounds grew louder—chains shifting, muffled voices, heavy breathing. Some slaves looked up as we passed. Others didn't bother.
Jessy stopped before a reinforced gate.
"These are healthier," she said. "Cleaner. Fed properly."
She unlocked the door and stepped aside.
Inside, several figures stood—or sat—under watchful eyes. Humans, demi-humans, even one I couldn't immediately identify. Their gazes followed me with varying expressions: fear, resignation, curiosity.
I didn't hesitate.
I wasn't here to browse.
"I need someone compatible," I said. "Physically resilient. Clean bloodline. Preferably humanoid."
Jessy glanced at me, studying my face more closely this time.
"…Medical use?" she asked carefully.
I met her gaze.
"Survival," I replied.
She nodded once.
"I may have exactly what you're looking for."
Jessy led me farther down the corridor, past the usual iron cages, until we reached a section reinforced with runed bars and thicker locks. The air felt different here—cooler, heavier somehow.
"This one doesn't get shown often," Jessy said, lowering her voice. "Too many buyers get… ideas. Or they panic."
She stopped before a wide enclosure.
Inside, coiled neatly atop a stone platform, was a lamia.
Her lower body was serpentine, thick and powerful, covered in smooth scales that shimmered a muted ivory under the torchlight. The upper half of her body was unmistakably humanoid—slender but strong, with pale skin marked by faint, natural scale patterns along her shoulders and sides.
Long silver-black hair spilled down her back, partially obscuring a simple iron collar around her neck.
Her eyes opened as we approached.
Not fearful.
Not hostile.
Just… tired.
She lifted her head slightly, watching me with a calm, calculating gaze that immediately told me she was far from mindless stock.
"This is Mia," Jessy said. "Lamia. Captured near the southern wetlands. Fully grown. Healthy. No curses, no madness."
Mia's tail shifted subtly, coils tightening—not threatening, just aware.
"She hasn't attacked anyone," Jessy continued. "But she won't obey just anyone either. Intelligent species. Proud."