Potential? The system had said. Spiritual Root: Untested (Presumed Latent). Was that her potential? Some hidden energy these creatures didn't recognize, but the system did? How could I access it? How could I fight back when I couldn't even break free of these ropes? The greasy-skinned man named Market Master Rotundus, I supplied the 'Rotundus' internally, because honestly, the man was spherical) was haggling fiercely with J'tharr.
They argued over percentages, over the exact classification of my 'potential', over guarantees. It was disgusting, infuriating. Just as Rotundus seemed to reach a reluctant agreement, extending a plump hand to seal the deal, a sudden commotion erupted at the edge of the market square. Shouts, but different this time, carrying an air of authority, not casual commerce. Heads turned. The crowd parted, not from curiosity, but from an instinctual fear. Striding into the market were figures who seemed to belong to a different age, a different legend. They were soldiers, undeniably, but their armor was unlike anything I had seen.
It was ancient, forged from dark, gleaming metal that seemed to absorb the strange light of this world. Ornate pauldrons shaped like predatory beasts, greaves etched with intricate, flowing patterns, helms that concealed their faces behind visored fronts or open-faced designs that revealed stern, weathered features. Their ranks were diverse in skin tones though taller and more powerfully built.
A grace of movement that suggested impossible strength. Yet, they moved with a unified purpose, their varied forms bound together by the shared design of their ancient panoplies and the aura of quiet, lethal capability they exuded. Leading them was a figure whose armor was the most elaborate, his helm crowned with a crest of what looked like solidified energy. He moved with the controlled power of a coiled spring, his hand resting on the hilt of a sword that hummed with latent force.
They marched directly towards the section of the market where I was being displayed. J'tharr and his fellow raiders stiffened, their hands going to their weapons. Rotundus's greasy face paled.
"Halt!" the lead soldier's voice boomed, cutting through the market noise like a blade.
It was the same language I now understood, but spoken with a clarity and authority that made the Bandits' speech sound like gutter slang.
" Release her at once."
J'tharr sneered, though his eyes betrayed apprehension. "Release her? This is our prize, taken from the Unregistered Zones. Finders keepers!"
"Finders keepers. She is royalty. I think you want to meet the creator, you sand-rat.?" the soldier retorted, his voice dangerously low. "You trespass against the Royal Line. Stand aside, or face the consequences."
"Consequences?" another Bandut jeered. "You think a few metal-clad relics masquerading as elite soldiers can take us?"
Before the Bandit could finish his boast, the lead soldier moved. It wasn't a charge, but a blur of impossible speed. His sword cleared its sheath with a whisper, and in an instant, the jeering raider was down, a clean cut across his chest. The action was so sudden, so decisive, that the air seemed to freeze.
Then, chaos erupted. The soldiers advanced with terrifying efficiency. They didn't waste movement, their ancient armor seeming to shrug off the crude attacks of the raiders. Swords flashed, energy rippled from staff-like weapons I hadn't noticed before, too busy with the news that I am royalty.
The air filled with the clash of metal and the cries of the injured. It was a whirlwind of action. The bandits, despite their numbers and ferocity, were outmatched. The soldiers fought with a skill and coordination that spoke of rigorous training and deep experience. One soldier, a towering figure with a bear-like build, wielded a massive warhammer that shattered bones and splintered wood with every swing. Another, lithe and quick, moved like a shadow, disabling opponents with precise strikes to pressure points. A figure in shimmering armor seemed to deflect blows with a subtle field of force, their movements fluid and graceful.
I watched, mesmerized and terrified, from my cage. Splinters of wood flew as the fighting came close. A fallen bandit slumped against the bars, his eyes wide with shock before his consciousness faded. The sounds were horrific, the clang of steel, screams of pain, the wet thuds of impacts.
My captors, J'tharr included, were quickly overwhelmed. They fought savagely, but their wild blows were no match for the disciplined technique of the soldiers. In mere moments, the fight was over. The bandits lay defeated, some dead, others groaning in submission or pain. The market crowd, which had scattered at the first sign of conflict, cautiously began to re-emerge from behind stalls and buildings. Rotundus was nowhere to be seen. The lead soldier, his armor unscratched despite the melee, turned his attention to my cage.
Several other soldiers gathered around, their expressions now softer, though still wary. The lead soldier knelt before the cage, his helm's gaze fixed on me. He raised a hand, encased in a gauntlet etched with luminous symbols, and gestured towards the cage door. With a soft hiss, a mechanism I hadn't seen released, and the heavy metal door swung opens.
He didn't reach for me, didn't grab me like the raiders had. Instead, he spoke, his voice still commanding but infused with a deep relief that I hadn't expected.
"By the Grace of the King," he said, and the words hit me like a physical blow, "we have found you." He paused, his gaze sweeping over my bound form, the dirt on my face, the fear in my eyes. Then, he uttered the words that cemented everything in place. "Welcome back, Princess."
I stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. Princess? Me? What is the system doing? I wondered ."P-princess?" I stammered, the word feeling utterly alien on my tongue, even in the language I now understood. "You… you've got the wrong person. I'm not a princess." I said, now is the time to tell the truth, before the real deal turns out and I find myself in bucket loads of trouble.
The soldier tilted his helmed head slightly. "They've said that you can be funny. Princess, tis you, you went missing half a moon ago, we've been searching for you since then. The king will be overjoyed to know that we've rescued you."
Another soldier, a woman with striking, violet-colored eyes peering from an open-faced helm, stepped forward. She carried a gleaming, segmented blade. Without a word, she knelt and, with swift, precise movements, cut the ropes binding my wrists and ankles. The relief was immediate, a rush of blood flow tingling painfully through my numb limbs. I flexed my fingers, rubbing the raw spots on my wrists.
"Alright then I tried" she mumbled, still trying to process the bewildering claim. "I was just in my apartment, with Min…"
"The journey can cause disorientation," the lead soldier said, rising to his feet. He extended a gauntleted hand towards her. "Come, Your Highness. It is not safe to linger here. Your father awaits your return."
I hesitated, looking from the bloodied ground where the raiders lay to the imposing, ancient figures who called me 'Princess'. They had rescued me from certain slavery, yes, but this new reality they presented felt no less fantastical, no less impossible than transmigration itself.
"Alright then, let's go" I grimace, a snarky edge creeping into my voice despite my shock."Well, at least I won't be bored, I guess." I took the soldier's offered hand, allowing him to help me stumble out of the cage that had been my prison.
The metal felt blessedly cool beneath her fingertips. As I stood free, surrounded by these diverse warriors in their ancient armor, I got a better look at them. One had skin the color of polished copper, another bore intricate, glowing tattoos visible on his exposed neck. Their eyes held an intensity, a loyalty, that was directed entirely at me.
"Where are we going?" I inquired, my voice stronger now, albeit trembling slightly.
"Home, Your Highness," the lead soldier replied, turning to lead me away from the bloodstained market square.
Home? People? I felt a fresh wave of confusion, but beneath it, a flicker of something else, hope. Slim, uncertain, but undeniably present. I had been pulled into this world, captured, and displayed like an animal. Now, I was apparently a princess,
This world was terrifying, brutal, and completely insane. But for the first time since waking up bound and caged, I felt a sliver of possibility.