Elysium…. The other world above ours. Two hundred years ago, a plaque descended on this world. Scientists couldn't begin to fathom what it was other than the obvious. It turned humans into monsters who are hostile towards humans.
This world refused to accept the reality that this might be a problem beyond science…. That was until the appearance of Elysium, the other world, and monsters from the unknown called "Outsiders".
When mutants and Outsiders— hostile creatures capable of a level of destruction that was even unimaginable for mutants leveled this world into desolation and madness, Elysium was the saving grace.
A hundred years after the appearance of the Plaque called the Unspeakable, and the intrusion of the Outsiders, Elysium was discovered or rather it appeared. A world above this world.
A select few who were infected by the Unspeakable would be called forth by an unknown entity into Elysium. A chance to save their world in exchange for missions that were of unimaginable horrors.
These select few were mankind's savior for not only did they have the chance to usher the necessary resources from that world to this one but they were also blessed with abilities, much similar to an Outsider's.
These people were called Players. And they were all that was left for mankind's hope.
•••
A young boy crouched down in the midst of the cornfield. A had a simple thatch hat to shield his head from the sun. His skin was plastered with dirt from working day in and out in the farm fields.
This boy was 17, an orphan slave of Master Jacobi Bethlehem, a Player with a sizable fame and a small Country to call his own.
"17!"
The blonde boy jerked at the sudden call of his name before looking over his shoulder to find a dark haired kid, as scrawny as he was, coming over his way.
"A?" 17 spoke quietly, squinting his eyes to get a proper look at the boy coming over.
17 was a little shocked. He hadn't seen A in over two days now. He had simply assumed that the boy was being whipped again for breaking a minor rule like the repeated offender he was.
"Did you get whipped again?" The blonde boy asked, looking over A's body for a sign that he had been whipped.
A pulled up a face at the words. "Of course not! I've done nothing wrong." He replied, irritation in his tune.
"Oh," 17 answered blankly before looking back at his work.
"Aren't you going to ask where I've been?" The dark haired boy nudged his head closer to the blonde boy.
17 sighed. "I haven't met up my daily quota yet, you can tell me during lunch."
"Alright, I'll buy you lunch, that sponge cake you've been drooling over for days."
17 paused at his words. A single sponge cake the size of a tuna can was worth one silver coin. It was nearly impossible for a farm slave to afford that much since they were paid sixty iron coins in a month.
There was no way neither he nor A could afford that much. 17 pulled up a frown, turning back to A who had an expectant look on his face, he wanted to ask how he got that much money when—
"Slaves!" At the sound of the familiar voice of the Farm Guard, every slave in the cornfield immediately turned to the guard.
The staunch looking guard in his simple leather uniform looked around the cornfield before stopping his dull cloudy eyes, similar to a blind man's at 17.
"You, boy, come with me," The guard didn't wait a second after saying those words.
17 quickly got up on his feet and followed the guard, sparing a single glance at A.
Following closely the guard took the boy to an open field. The grass was soft, a little itchy, so much so that it resembled the real thing even though 17 had never touched real grass before.
After all the Unspeakable ruined eco-life as it was known. Only those that worked for a Master, a Player, had the opportunity to see grass or plants that are artificially generated from Ki energy.
The energy that powered players, and outsiders as well.
"Woosh!" Came the sound of an arrow tearing through the wind.
17 stared at the boy with an arrow. Dressed in a simple white dress shirt and plain dark trousers, yet he was an evidence of a life 17 could only dream of.
This brown haired boy was Xeres Bethlehem, the illegitimate son of the Master Jacobi Bethlehem— The Magistrate of Vy Country.
The small crowd of slaves and children of the Master's courtesans clapped even though Xeres' arrow only stabbed at the leg of the chained dog.
"Well done Young Master! The Master will be proud to see that your archery skills have improved as much as your gun skills!" Came the praises of an old man with auburn hair dusted with grey hair, and cloudy dull eyes similar to the guards.
The old man flocked around the Xeres who bore a blank expression. "Improved?" Xeres asked, his tune low.
The brown haired boy turned to the side. "Slave,"
17 looked to his side, wondering if the young master was speaking to someone else.
"Have I improved?" Xeres asked, his green eyes staring down at the blonde boy.
"Yes, Young Master," He didn't even give it a thought before answering. Every now and then he would be called here so he had seen the Young Master's archery skills at play…. Needless to say it was the same as it was three weeks ago.
The old man by the boy's side let out a croaky laugh. "Xeres, my boy, does the buzzing of the fly matter more than the insight of an elder?"
Xeres said nothing in response. He reached for his quiver, stocked with more arrows, and pulled out another metal arrow, setting it against his bow he said, "Of course not, Sir Verys,"
His hand muscle relaxed as he let go of the arrow that went straight to the heart of the rabid dog. "It's simply that you are too attuned with politics that it has become difficult to differentiate your truths from your lies." This time the green eyed boy was staring at the old man.
Verys turned green at the young boy's words, his dull cloudy eyes gleaming with something heated.
Xeres raised his hand at the guards. "Another target!"
The guards moved to the body of the dog and produced another rabid animal.
The brown haired boy turned to 17, "Your sister was asking to see you, Six!"
A dainty girl came out from the small crowd, running towards 17. She looked no older than seven, with dirty blonde hair.
"Brother!" She hugged the waist of 17, who was quick to hug her back.
This girl was his half-sister six who, unlike him, was lucky to be picked by the Young Master Xeres as an assistant. Considering her young age she didn't really have anything to offer as an assistant to the learned Young Master but Xeres had still picked her.
"How have you been doing?" 17 tried to control the happiness in his voice as he asked.
It had been three weeks since he last saw his sister. Had it not been for the strange kindness of Xeres who allowed Six to her brother whenever he left the mansion they would never meet.
And 17 an ordinary slave had no say in the matter.
He was just another kid born by a prostitute mother who wasn't even aware who her baby's father was. 17 was just an accident that refused to wash away despite several tries from the mother. In the end he was born… his mother in hopes that he would die of starvation and over working did not name him.
In the end the mother died before him. 17 along with his little sister from another father after jumping from orphanage to the streets ended up as slaves for Master Jacobi, 17 a field slave, and Six a house slave.
The dainty young girl nodded her head at 17's words. "I've been fine. Young Master taught me how to write 1-100 this time!"
"Ahem," Xeres cleared his throat as he pretended to concentrate on his archery.
17 gave her a slight smile, holding her hands in his. He had a slight moment of relief upon noticing his sister's palms, unlike his were soft and free of scars, as a child's should.
"Is that all that's happened?" 17 asked, the question was a normal one but his eyes were asking something different.
Six getting the message simply smiled at her brother. "Mhm! I've been A— okay!"
"I'm glad then,"
"What about you? What about that Poppy that looks like a butt?! How about Milo? Is he still angry that that girl shaved all his hair off? What about your butt pimp—!"
17 hurriedly covered her mouth, thinking to himself. 'This mouthy brat'. He let out an awkward laugh. "Everything's fine Six, that cow's butt pimple is fine as well,"
Six seem to muffle something like "I was talking about your butt pimple" into his mouth.
17 let out another scratchy laugh before leaning closer to his sister and whisper-yelling, "You better shut your piehole, Satan's spawn!"
The younger girl nodded at his words. He removed his hand from her mouth to which she said innocently, "I was just worried about your butt,"
"Asshole," 17 muttered.
The girl giggled.
"Alright that's enough for today, I still have a tutoring session later this evening," Came Xeres.
"Somebody, escort the slave back to his assignment," Xeres spoke as he put on his jacket.
A guard stepped forward. 17 was quick to follow the guard, sparing his sister a glance and a wave, to which his sister waved back at him.
This guard, unlike the other guard, suddenly spoke. "Your sister's doing so much worse,"
The blonde boy didn't look at the speaking guard as he replied. "I know. She looked a lot paler than three weeks ago."
"You're not going to be able to keep it from Young Master Xeres much longer. He looks detached from reality but he can be observant when he wants to." The guard continued.
"Dammit, Micha, I know that, save your lecture for when next you see Milo." 17 replied with gritted teeth.
"And how has Milo been doing?"
"Sulking about losing all his hair, I swear I can't tell how you both are brothers, he's so dramatic all the time."
"I'm glad he is fine then, tell him I will get him a hair-growing pill from the Blessed Tower the next time I come to visit,"
17 felt a small pang of jealousy at those words. His friend— Milo had his older brother to depend on for everything, while he only had himself as well as someone else dependant on him.
He sighed, thinking of what little money he had left from last month's pay. It wouldn't be enough to even buy something as cheap as paracetamol from the Blessed Tower for his sister.
Six was suffering from lung cancer. A sickness that both parties were struggling to keep a secret from the Young Master.
Why? Because the consequences for a life-threatening illness is immediate death. An ill slave was a defective slave.