Mike slowly opened his eyes and found himself in the interior of what seemed like a tent. He immediately knew what happened, but he could not help but feel that this was anticlimactic. After falling asleep, he simply woke up in another place: no heavenly gate, no jumping into a pond, nothing.
<>
It was morning if the crowing cocks were to be trusted.
<
He just could not hold himself back and let out a scream of excitement.
"AHHHHHHHHH!"
This was the feeling he usually only experienced when he knocked out a reigning champion and claimed the belt as for himself, and he certainly felt like a champion at this moment.
And like a champion, he raised his arms and…. *thump*
Something stopped Mike from completely raising his arms. Confused, he stopped looking at the ceiling to understand why his arms would not listen. Then he saw them, chains as thick as the ropes sailors use to tie their ships to the cleats.
Before Mike could process the situation he was in, heavy steps approached the tent. A man in black leather armor stepped in. The symbol of a whip tormenting a man adorned the leather breastplate. The bald man sported a clean shaved face except for the bushy grey mustache above a twisted smile. He had a slim body, which, combined with his tall height, gave him a lanky appearance. There were fresh scars across his cheeks and an extremely displeased look on his face.
"What a motivated little worker you are. The old witch said you needed rest, or you'd die, but if you can scream, then you can work!"
The man spat on the ground and removed the chains on Mike's arm and seemed to notice something. Mike looked lost. Why was he supposed to die without rest, and did they chain him? Had something gone wrong when he got transported here?
"What are you waiting for? Time to work!"
Now that the excitement was gone, Mike actually felt his whole body a little bit too intensively. The pain was immense, unlike anything he had ever felt before. He could not understand just what had happened to him. It was doubtful that a normal person could endure the pain he was currently experiencing. Not even the training sessions straight out of hell had ever made him suffer like this.
"ARE YOU DEAF? UP! NOW!"
<
Mike tried to get up, but the weak arms just could not bear his weight. Years of training and preparation, getting his body to the pinnacle of what is earthly possible, and now he could not even move. This seemed like a sick joke.
He rolled onto his stomach. Maybe it'd be easier if he got onto his knees first.
*Crack*
"AHHHHHHH"
Mike was wrong. It was possible to experience more pain. His back felt like someone poured burning oil over it.
"I give you ten seconds to get up. After that, it's another whip for every second you waste my time!"
The psychopath sounded like he'd enjoy whipping him a few more times. Mike grit his teeth and somehow managed to get onto his knees. He was not someone who had ever cried because of pain, but not even multiple elbows to the face could compare to the pain Mike was going through at this moment. Watery eyes started impairing his vision more and more.
"Please, mercy! I'm getting up. My body… it hurts."
Ten seconds to get up. That was definitely something he was familiar with. Gathering all his willpower, he finally managed to stand up like he had done so many times in the ring. Mike turned around and looked at the guard through teary eyes.
"Oh, is the little boy going to cry? That's what you get for screaming in the morning when I have a hangover, you little piece of shit!" A grin crept up the guard's face, exposing a mouth full of missing teeth.
<
"I'm sorry, Sir, please lead the way."
<
Instead of looking pleased, the grin on the guard's face disappeared, replaced by a frown. Mike understood what was happening, and rage started to boil up inside him.
<
That would at least suppress the pain, and Mike could certainly use that.
The guard turned around and started walking away. Mike dreaded what would happen if he did not keep up with him, so he did his best to maintain his balance and stumbled after the guard.
Outside the tent, a sun greeted Mike, rising behind a mountain not far away. The temperature outside was hot, and the humidity made it hard to breathe. He wanted to take a look around, but at first glance, he could not see anything but tents, guards, and other prisoners on an endless sandy ground. It was not like he could take his time to assess his surroundings, as the guard was moving too fast, and it would be easy to lose him between the tents.
Mike simply focused on taking one step after the other on the hot and sandy ground. All he had was just some cloth bound around his feet, providing the bare minimum protection to prevent burning them. It was the same type of cloth he was wearing on his body.
They kept walking for another five minutes and were approaching the mountain—a sound resembling construction workers breaking down a wall resonated throughout the camp. Suddenly the guard stopped walking. In front of Mike had appeared a big wooden gate connected to a three-meter-high palisade.
The guard that had whipped Mike approached one of his companions next to the gate. The man did not have a whip and was carrying a spear instead. His armor also looked sturdier and had a shield sewed in at the height of his heart. Unlike the escort, he obviously ate enough as there was a slight bulge around the area of his stomach. His grim expression, while intimidating, was betrayed by a huge round nose.
"If that is not Smiling Diego. Heard you puked all over a Jessica yesterday? And what's up with those scars? Hahaha"
Thanks to that comment, Mike found out his tormentor was called Smiling Diego, but the man certainly was not smiling as he was being ridiculed. Mike saw him tighten his grip around the whip.
<
"Mastil, one more word, and I'll see you in the pit."
<
Mike wondered what that was. If it were something like a fighting arena... now that would be something he would be interested in. Mastil, on the other hand, apparently not so much.
"Calm down. I was just joking with you. What's up with that slave? Where are the chains? Why are you escorting him to the Quarry?"
<
Diseases, torture, and being worked to death. Mike detested not being in control of his fate. He needed to get out of this place, but information came first. He literally knew nothing about this world except that slavery existed and that Diego was an asshole.
"The old witch said he needs to rest, but he has no armband. And what do you mean? Can't you see the chains on him?"
Smiling Diego looked so confused Mike almost felt bad for him. Almost. The lanky guy obviously was not the brightest. But the pity lasted only for a fraction of a second, replaced by that searing anger that he needed to stay conscious.
"So, you know prisoners have to walk in chains at all times, right?" Mike did not like Mastils grin at all.
"I just told you he is chained!"
Diego seemed to be getting impatient. Mike did not know what awaited him in the quarry, but he had an urgent feeling that he had to get away from these two now.
"That's not what I mean. Look at him, he is supposed to be chained, but he is not. Doesn't that mean he's basically trying to flee right now?"
If there were a definition for an evil grin, it would describe exactly what these two showed Mike right now. While Diego's grin was visibly brightening up, living up to his name, Mike's future just got even darker.
<>
"Excuse me, Sir, but I will get to work now. I wish you a pleasant day."
Mike tried to walk past them but to no avail. The guard grabbed him by his shoulder and held him back.
"You somehow got rid of your chains, and then you tried to run. You know what that means, right? Five whip slashes to serve as an example for the other slaves," Mastil said.
<
Mike considered himself a hard man. After everything he experienced, he knew how to endure and push through. But that was too much; there was no way he could handle five more of those. Hell, he did not even know how he was still on his feet.
"Please, I beg you. Mercy!"
He never thought he'd ever beg for something in his life. But the moment Mike did, regret followed immediately after. That was exactly the reaction those two sick bastards wanted.
"To the pole with you! Mh hm hm..."
Smiling Diego started pushing Mike through the gates while happily humming a song.
"Enjoy your stay and make sure to work hard after your… massage. That is if you survive." Mastil chuckled and yelled after Mike.
<
On the other side of the wall were wooden constructs beside the mountain. Other slaves scurried around them like ants in their nests. They pushed carts, carried stones, and hammered against rocks.
There were surprisingly few guards for the number of slaves, around 1 guard for every 200 slaves—all equipped with the same black leather armor and whips.
<
The slaves close to Mike overheard the conversation between Diego and Mastil and looked at him with pity in their eyes. But the moment one of those two looked in their direction, they immediately lowered their heads, continuing their work.
One minute later, they arrived on a small hill in the middle of the quarry. Three wooden posts stood on top of the hill. Diego pushed Mike towards the middle post. Attached to it was some sort of metal cuff.
"Take off your clothes and then put your hands in there. Non-cooperation means five extra whips. I am being nice here telling you that."
<
Those thoughts had to be kept to himself, as survival was his priority, and in his current state, surviving the upcoming punishment would take everything he had or maybe even more. His body simply felt too weak.
He took off his clothes and obediently put his hands in the cuffs. Mike's hands shook nonstop, and his heart pounded like a jackhammer.
*Click* *Click*
Naked in front of thousands of slaves, bound to a whipping post, and on the brink of death. This was not the great start to the new and all so glorious life Mike had expected.
<
For a moment, Mike's fury completely freed him of all the pain, the suffering, and despair. He was ready for whatever they'd throw at him. At least that's what he thought…
Then came the first whip.