How to Survive as a Mage Inside a Game-Chapter 12: Slave Traders, Elves, Terrorists (1)

A tribe of shamans with a long and storied history.

Karl had once completed an ending as a shaman class, so he knew quite a bit about them.

They weren’t actively hunted like dark mages, but shamans were still one of the professions persecuted across the continent for various reasons.

Definitely not something you saw every day in a city this size.

“You there, care to have your fortune read?”

The old man’s sudden offer.

Karl looked around and realized the man was speaking to him.

After a brief hesitation, curiosity got the better of him, and he stepped forward.

“You talking to me?”

“Yes.”

“...What kind of fortune, exactly?”

“One silver.”

And then the old man named his price.

A whole silver coin—for a single street reading.

Karl gave him a dumbfounded look, but the old man waited shamelessly, eyebrows not twitching an inch.

The message was clear: no coin, no reading.

‘What the hell...’

He could’ve just walked away, but Karl reached into his coat and tossed the old man a silver coin.

It was clear this guy wasn’t some fake—he was a real shaman. And it’s not like Karl was short on money.

The old man looked genuinely surprised to see Karl actually pay.

No, you don’t get to be surprised.

“Pick four cards.”

The old man didn’t even shuffle the deck, which had already been laid out face-down, and gestured for Karl to choose.

Still suspicious, Karl tapped four of the cards.

“...?”

There was no trace of magic.

But an odd aura pulsed around the old man, and the selected cards flipped over on their own.

A horse galloping under the moonlight, a tangle of thorny vines, a bottomless-looking pit, and... nothing. Just a blank.

“Hm.”

The old man examined the cards closely, then began to speak.

“You’ve got something bothersome following you.”

“...Bothersome?”

“Something that won’t give up easily. It’ll keep pursuing you persistently. Shaking it off won’t be easy.”

Karl scowled.

“What exactly is following me? And how am I supposed to shake it off?”

“I don’t know. Fortune-telling tells you about fate and situations—it doesn’t hand you the answers. You’ll have to figure that part out yourself.”

The old man continued with the reading.

“Your path ahead won’t be smooth either. A major crisis looms in the near future.”

“Wait, is that because of this bothersome thing that’s following me?”

“No, it’s unrelated. Either way, you could very well lose your life. Be careful.”

With that, the old man went silent and gave a subtle nod.

It meant the reading was over.

Karl was left speechless. One silver coin down, and all he got was a stalker warning and a death flag.

“What about the other two cards? The pit and the blank one?”

“They don’t mean anything for you. The first two were the important ones.”

Another nod from the old man, dismissing him completely.

Karl frowned in frustration and protested.

“What kind of shitty reading is this? I paid a whole silver, and all I got was doom and gloom. Can’t you be a little more specific?”

The old man chuckled softly and said,

“Sometimes, even vague knowledge can be a powerful thing. But no matter how much you pester me, I’ve got nothing more to tell.”

“......”

“But here’s one piece of advice—don’t let that reading scare you into standing still. If you stop moving forward, nothing changes. Trust yourself and keep going.”

Sure, if you don’t die first.

Karl caught the old man’s muttered afterthought and walked away with a twisted expression.

He had a feeling nothing good would come out of sticking around.

“Damn it. Now I’m in a worse mood for no reason.”

As Karl disappeared muttering to himself, the old man’s eyes returned to the cards.

The bottomless pit and the blank.

The first two cards revealed a person’s present and future. The last two revealed the essence of who they were.

“...Not of this world, huh.”

The old man raised his head again, watching Karl’s retreating figure.

Zatuskuff, one of the last remaining great shamans of the Avan tribe.

He stared after that strange young man, pondering deeply how to interpret a reading like this—one he had never encountered in all his life.

This translation is the intellectual property of Novelight.

* * *

As irritating as the reading was, it didn’t change anything.

Karl spent just one day in Gaster, restocking a bit of food before heading out of the city.

His next destination was Zarop.

Once he passed through that city, he’d practically reached the imperial border.

“Bwahaha! Who the hell rides alone through this place on horseback?! Hand over your valuables and I’ll let you—urk!”

For some reason, Karl kept running into bandit groups on the way.

Annoyed and reminded of that damn fortune, he used them as target practice, unloading spells like stress relief.

Surely the old man didn’t mean this kind of danger.

“Tch, this is getting on my nerves.”

And so, riding across the plains for about two weeks—

Karl eventually entered a forested area and slowed his horse as he scanned his surroundings.

Finding a path in a forest is tough without a guide.

But Karl’s goal was simply to cross it in a straight line, so he didn’t waste time with detours.

Besides, according to his map, this forest meant he was close to Zarop.

“...?”

While riding through the forest trail, his detection spell picked something up ahead.

Seemed like people. Quite a lot of them, actually.

Not unusual, considering this was a relatively safe forest and a common travel route between cities.

‘A caravan, maybe?’

The figures approached head-on, the distance steadily closing.

Karl raised his alertness—no harm in being cautious.

“......”

And then, once they came into view, he was momentarily speechless.

It was a caravan.

But not of goods—they were selling people.

“Hold it.”

Several carriages lined with iron bars. Surrounding them were armed, rough-looking men.

The one in front, presumably the leader, halted the group.

He looked at Karl and asked,

“You don’t see many folks riding alone through forest trails. Where’re you coming from?”

“......”

Karl didn’t answer. His eyes flicked toward the caged wagons.

The first two held children—boys and girls alike.

The rear ones held near-adults, all bound and restrained.

‘Slave traders.’

Probably hauling them from Zarop to some other city.

When Karl didn’t respond, the man asked again.

“Didn’t you hear me? I asked where you’re coming from.”

Finally, Karl clicked his tongue and replied.

“What’s it to you? Mind your own business and keep moving.”

“...What was that?!”

The men behind the leader bristled and glared at Karl.

The leader raised a hand to calm them, then chuckled.

“Fair enough. Then kindly step aside. As you can see, we’ve got a big group.”

“......”

Karl begrudgingly moved off the path.

In the Empire, the slave trade was legal.

It might clash with modern sensibilities outside the game, but in this world, these men were just lawful merchants—at least on the surface.

Just because he didn’t like it didn’t mean he’d go lashing out like some self-righteous maniac.

“Thanks.”

The man gave a polite nod and walked past.

The others glared daggers at Karl but passed without incident.

As they passed, Karl got a better look at the children inside the cages.

Most of them looked lifeless, their expressions hollow and defeated.

‘This world really is fucked.’

Karl’s face twisted with bitterness.

Of course, he wanted to free them—but that wasn’t possible.

Then something caught his eye.

One cage in the middle.

A girl with strikingly pale skin and pointed ears.

He couldn’t not notice her.

‘...An elf?’

An elf.

Where the hell did these bastards manage to catch an elf?

One of the slavers saw where Karl was looking and chuckled.

“Surprised? We paid off a few rangers on the southern border. Took a hell of a time catching that one. Probably gonna go for an insane price at auction.”

“......”

“Heh! Looks like you like her. Want me to sell her to you now? If you’ve got the gold, I might make an exception.”

The man formed a circle with his fingers, grinning playfully.

Karl scowled.

It was obvious the man was just toying with him.

There’s no way he’d actually sell a top-tier slave worth thousands of gold to some random passerby like it was a clearance sale.

“Hey, Krop! Stop teasing the kid and get over here.”

The source of this c𝓸ntent is frёeweɓηovel.coɱ.

His buddy called him over, and the man waved, still smirking.

“Word of advice—watch your mouth. Some slave traders aren’t as polite as us. If you pissed off the wrong one, ★ 𝐍𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 ★ you’d already be—”

THWIP!

Out of nowhere, an arrow pierced straight through the man’s head.