When I awake again, I am back in my original cage. [See? I knew that they wouldn't let me die!] Initially, I am happy to be alive. But that happiness quickly fades to unhappiness and then to depression as I consider that someone has access to something that could kill me in an instant. Trying to cheer myself up, I check my skills, hoping to have gained something new. I quickly glance through my skills, noticing that Master Madness has increased to level 3. I note that I've gained two new skills: Lesser Suffocation Resistance Lvl. 1, and Lesser Wrath Lvl. 1. The wrath is worrying, but suffocation resistance makes me hopeful.[ Perhaps if I can raise it high enough, that unfair control panel may not work on me. But I guess that doesn't really matter, as it has a hundred other ways of killing me.]
And now, I wait.
I manage to slip in and out of a fitful slumber, all the while trying my utmost to avoid the unpleasant reality of my situation. But no matter what I do, I struggle with keeping my mind off of the abject nature of my position. [Reincarnated as a slave… what a title that would be. Think anyone would read it? Of course they wouldn't. Who would want to read about the miserable experiences of a servile being?] In my previous life I had always tended towards optimism; or, at the very least, refrained from a 'poor me' attitude. But now, perhaps due to my Madness, perhaps due to the absolute awfulness of my situation by comparison, I can't help but feel a bit bad for myself.
[Oh, woe to me! Why must I be subject to this torment? Though, if torment indeed this is, it cannot be said that it is undeserved… actually, it very well could be said to be undeserved! I was already sentenced and executed for my crimes! What about not being charged twice for the same crime, huh?! This is an abomination of justice! I want to kill the bastard who subjected me to this! Come on out, spiteful god! I am well enough read to know that you are watching me for your own entertainment at this very moment! You called me here, whomever you may be, and you are therefore guilty of all that I have suffered! Come on out so that I may kill you!]
I receive no response, and after I calm down my thinking again clears. [Damn… that Madness effect of enhancing negative emotions is powerful. I get just a little angry, and it is heightened to murderous rage, though I doubt Wrath is helping in that regard… Not only am I a slave, I am a slave battling crippling mood swings on a truely unnatural level. This really sucks…]
I continue to slide in and out of consciousness, until I reach a point where no more of my existence can be spent away in unconsciousness. Well, perhaps a bit more [could] be, if I was in slightly more comfortable conditions.
Drowning in boredom, I begin to look over my stats. Lesser Wrath: experience more anger, increase battle spirit the higher the anger. [Well, that's just fantastic. I'm sure that stacks with Master Madness's enhancement of negative emotions as well. Seriously, who came up with this retarded system?] Lesser Suffocation Resistance: you require slightly less oxygen to sustain bodily operation. Oh? That looks rather useful. Requiring less oxygen will be useful in many situations, especially in all physical activities. Lesser Chaos: feel a slight inclination towards spreading disorder, uncontrollably induce slight disorder in your own mind. [Fantastic. Just fantastic. I get to experience enhanced negative emotions, further enhanced anger, and mental disorder on a level that can be described as 'chaotic.' I really have managed to acquire a beautiful range of 'skills' for myself, eh?]
I continue to examine my skills. Magic Sensory: feel the flow of magic around you. Hmm. That's pretty vague. I try intently focusing, and after a short while I feel [something.] It's hard to describe even to myself, but it reminds me of another sense, like sight or sound. I can feel it, whatever 'it' is, in the air around me. It's like what I naturally do when I use magic while fighting, I realize. I had done it so naturally, and been in such perilous circumstances, that I had not really been able to pay attention to what I was doing. It's so faint, however, that I might think myself simply imagining it if my Magic Sensory skill hadn't leveled up to level two while experimenting. Other than the magic being slightly easier to feel, little changes. I'm sure that this is a useful skill, but for the moment, I know not how.
Continuing on, I look into Lesser Magic Manipulation and Lesser Melee Magic Conduction. The first 'allows for the manipulation of pure mana particles,' whatever that means, while the second 'allows for mana to be adapted for use with melee weapons.' I don't really understand the difference between the two; if the first allows me to manipulate the magic, or 'mana,' then it seems as though I would be able to mix it with my weapon myself. I assume that I must not be properly understanding the properties of the magic, and I move on. I try to test these abilities by attempting to shift the mana 'particles' that I had noticed earlier. They don't budge at all, however, which is hardly surprising. I had already assumed that either this cage or this storeroom would somehow prevent the usage of magic. Most of what I had read that had had magic also had ways to prevent people from using it, and I figured that if this world had anything similar then they would certainly put it in a room that is essentially serving as a prison.
With those two skills finally analyzed, I have run out of skills that I am curious about. Perhaps I will look into some of them more later, but for now, I know what I wanted to know.
I return to my bored and very pained state of existence as I try to again slip into blissful slumber. Just when I begin to fall asleep, the heavy door slams open. I want to turn and see who has entered, but such an action is impossible while in such tight confines; therefore, I must be content to hear only a faint murmuring from the other side of the room.
I am unable to discern what they say, and so I am unable to calm my heart which thuds painfully in fear as I hear the voices slowly approaching. Once they get close enough, however, my heart again calms; I am certain that none of the voices belong to the guard who had retrieved me last time.
"I am sorry that none of our wares thus far have been to your liking…" apologizes a voice that I assume to belong to one of the employees of this [fine] institution.
"Clearly not, as I seem to deliver the same complaint every time I come here; all of your [wares] are in generally horrific shape, save for your most recent [acquisitions]. Perhaps if you took care of your [products] better, I would be able to find some[thing] more to my liking. And I do so hope that I have properly employed your dehumanizing language correctly," responds the voice of a woman.
"Well, do not blame us for your strange feelings towards [property]. What type of user of slaves objects to the products being described as what they are: products?" interjects a third voice, this one obviously belonging to the auctioneer whom I have dealt with thus far.
She sighs before responding. "I suppose you are right; it is quite strange of me to make use of slaves and yet still think of them as human. My apologies. I should not criticize you for poor [living] conditions. That said, I am well within my rights to criticize the poor quality of your [goods] . Many are very close to expiration, and I have seen several well past. In the business I deal in, appearances are quite important…"
I have to strain to hear the last few words, by which point the trio, or at least the group that I assume to be a trio, have passed out of my range of hearing.
[A private customer, one who gets to shop before the auction? I'd assume she is involved in something illegal based on that, and doesn't want her purchases to be publicly known… and, furthermore, she said that appearances are quite important… ahh. Well, hopefully that annoying girl that I didn't learn the name of doesn't catch her eye. She should be fine though; I seem to recall that she had a marketable skill proficiency and would likely be going to a tailor. Either way, it really shouldn't matter to me. I need to be focusing on my own problems for the moment.]
With that, I return to analyzing my own situation (feeling bad for myself), until my advanced hearing again picks up the sound of voices approaching from behind.
"I do so hope that our product will be to your- and your customers'- liking," says the auctioneer.
"Yes, we acquired it about a week ago, so we can assure the highest quality," adds the auctioneer that I have never seen.
"Yes, yes, I'm sure it will be. Though you surely know as well as I that there will be no way for me to sue over the poor quality of such a purchase, don't think that you will get away with it if the product is inferior to how you have let on. As you also know well, I have many friends in [low] places, friends who don't take kindly to the swindling of their comrades, who will surely pay you a visit in case of poor quality."
"My dear lady!" objects the auctioneer, sounding insulted. "We would never dare sell inferior goods to someone of your stature!"
"Do you think I'm an idiot? You did just that last time I was here. She didn't even last a month before dying of illness!"
"Well, considering the business you run, the product must have experienced some rough usage."
She huffs before responding "Of course that's your response. Blame the customer!" The customer then says, clearly to someone else, "Hurry up. We haven't got all day."
A small voice softly squeaks "Y-yes mistress." I haven't been struggling with my emotions for a little bit, but the sound of a terrified young girl being sold to an owner of a business of [that] type mixes with my Wrath and Madness to create a maelstrom of rage so potent that I am confident that I could tear through the bars enclosing me and easily annihilate the auctioneers and their filthy customer. I am stopped, however, by the tiny bit of me that knows that doing so will eventually lead to my demise, and that that demise will return me to the horrible blackness that had enveloped me upon my last death. So, instead of purifying the planet of the filth that had again passed out of my enhanced auditory range, I shudder with barely controlled rage, swearing to tear down this blasted institution on the off chance that I ever am presented the opportunity.
Though I am no longer able to make out their words, I am still confident that they have left the room upon hearing the loud bang of the door closing, a bang that echoes across the room. From there, I return to waiting for something, [anything] , to happen.