[Dictionary]
Blood Moon
Underground Church
Punisher
All Mother
???
???
???
I chose Blood Moon.
[Blood Moon]
[Ψ A Blood Moon is whenever the moon turns red and Sin is at its highest, often drawing Daemons to its location, resulting in Daemonic Feeding Grounds.
Examples of how a Blood Moon happens are areas where there's been high counts of murder and grief. Ψ ]
Hm. Odd. There were highlighted terms within the definition itself.
I tried to search for Sin, Daemon's, and Feeding Grounds.
[System]
[ Ψ I apologize, but you cannot access those terms until you reach the proper level and receive a classification. Please return when you've progressed further. Ψ ]
Frustrating. I hated being left in the dark, surprises—especially unpleasant ones—filled me with dread.
We trudged what felt like forever before reaching the old looking stable. A nearby cabin housed the other unsold thralls being ushered inside by Punishers—likely their quarters for the night.
Guided by the hand of the auctioneer, I found myself within the stench-filled confines of the stables. The scent of horse and cow manure assaulted my senses, causing me to wrinkle my nose in disgust.
The auctioneer chuckled, his callous remark of "You'll get used to it" doing little to ease my discomfort.
At least we were out of the biting blizzard. Thank the gods for simple mercies.
We stopped before a large stone slab sunk into the dirt floor.
"Take off your shirt and bend over the block," the auctioneer ordered gruffly.
I hesitated, knowing full well the pain that would follow any attempt to resist. Reluctantly, I removed my shirt and dropped it to the ground, making my way to the stone in slow, measured steps. If I was to suffer, I would do so on my own terms.
The whip cracked across my bare back, the force of the blow sending me collapsing against the stone, my arms instinctively wrapping around it for support. I lost my breath. I'd forgotten how to breathe in that agonizing moment, leaving my mind reeling.
As the auctioneer continued to deliver lash after agonizing lash, I clung to the stone, my body trembling with the effort to remain upright. A deeper part of me, the primal core of my being, recognized what I must become to survive this fresh hell.
Stronger. I had to grow stronger, had to evolve into someone capable of defending themselves in this fucked up world. My old, timid self could never endure here.
"They wear the skin of children, but oh, All Mother, they are devils in your eyes," the auctioneer cried, his voice filled with a righteous fury that belied his true nature. He was a Punisher cloaked in the guise of a businessman, delivering cruel justice behind closed doors.
Another lash tore across my back, and I couldn't contain the raw, animalistic scream that ripped from my throat. No more…please no more.
As the whip struck me once more, my vision faded, and I collapsed onto the stone slab, mercifully slipping into the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness.
***
I awoke with a start, the prickling sensation of hay beneath my feet drawing me back to the waking world.
Squinting in the dim light of the lanterns that hung overhead, I could just make out the rough wooden beams of the stable. A heavy chain bit into my wrists, suspending me from the ceiling in a painful, awkward position.
Each subtle movement sent a searing jolt of pain coursing through my arms, forcing a sharp gasp from my parched lips. My shredded back throbbed, and my knees ached from the hay beneath them.
How long since I blacked out from the pain? An eternity seemed to pass as I hung there in utter misery. My dry mouth felt ready to split.
The system menu materialized before my eyes, seemingly of its own volition. Though I could scarcely muster the energy to focus on its contents, I forced myself to examine the words that hovered before me.
A bitter laugh, more like a pained groan, escaped my lips as I absorbed the information.
[System]
[Ψ You're in the east barn, where thralls are punished for disobedience. Punishments may include beatings, starvation, or enforced obedience training. Duration of punishment varies. Ψ]
How badly had I messed up earlier? If I had, perhaps death awaited in this twisted world too. But then what?
I scanned the barn for anything that might help me escape, but useless rusty tools adorned the far wall. Horses slumbered peacefully in their stalls, and the lone window was both barred and far out of reach.
Another agonizing hour inched by as my grip on consciousness grew tenuous. The worst torment, however, lay in the plate of food and bucket of water placed just within my reach.
A calculated reminder of the cost of disobedience, a tantalizing temptation that left me yearning for even a single sip or morsel of food, no matter how I had to bend or break my body to get it.
Just as I teetered on the edge of surrendering to the beckoning darkness, a faint noise pierced the stillness of the barn. Too weary to open my eyes, I braced for another round of punishment.
But instead of the whip, I felt a trembling hand gently cup my chin. Somehow mustering the strength, I managed to pry my eyelids open.
It was Anyae. Her hands, chilled from the blizzard raging outside, pressed a hard chunk of stale bread against my cracked lips. Barely able to lift my head, I rasped out a protest.
"Keep it...go before you get in trouble."
She shook her head defiantly and jammed the bread against my mouth with such force that my teeth parted involuntarily.
All reason left the moment that first hint of bread touched my tongue. I bit down savagely, ripping away a chunk and devouring it in desperate wolfish gulps, only half chewing before the rougher pieces scraped their way down my throat.
"Thank you," I whispered hoarsely, trying in vain to brush away the crumbs around my mouth with my shoulder.
'No need,' Anyae signed with a warm smile. 'Just because they don't treat us as human doesn't mean we have to accept living like caged animals.'
She repeated my own words from the auction platform, and I couldn't help but smirk faintly at the irony. A random line I came up with, yet it stuck.
With cautious steps, she retrieved the water bucket and carefully lifted it for me to drink my fill, gulping greedily until I nearly choked.
The thunderous boom of a slamming door made us both jump. Heavy bootsteps approached, drawing ever nearer.
"Damn them all," a gruff, slurred voice cursed loudly.
I met Anyae's worried gaze, and she scurried to replace the bucket before darting to take cover beneath an old carriage.
"Heard about that family shredded by a Class S Daemon," a second voice piped up as the two Punishers entered the dimly-lit stables. "Those are rare, right?"
"The bloody Vatican's a joke," the drunken one snorted. "Let the Daemons run wild too damn long. Like keepin' a beast caged with rusted bars, waitin' for it to break free."
"Careful, Trynton," His companion warned, sounding nervous. "Lord Ryker might hear you and have your tongue cut out for that kinda talk."
"Screw Lord Ryker, and screw the damned Vatican too!" Trynton spat venomously. "Nothin' but corrupt bastards, abandoned us after the Second War. Don't give a shit about Darshkova's people."
I slumped in my chains, the clanking of metal echoing through the stable as the two men turned the corner, their eyes widening in surprise at the sight of me
One had a mop of dark curls that framed his face, while the other wore a scarf wrapped snugly around his head.
"Alright Trynton, I'm going back to my post," the one wearing the scarf muttered, glancing at me with disdain. "That one stays put till morning."
He left, leaving me alone with drunken Trynton. He walked toward me, a piece of hay hanging from his mouth, regarding me with a curious expression.
"I know that sheltered look in your eyes, boy," Trynton broke the silence.
"What look?" I rasped, throat parched and raw.
"The sheltered look. The look of one who knows nothing of Daemons," Trynton smirked. "You're fascinated by them, aren't you?" he asked, his eyes piercing into mine as if seeking confirmation.
I couldn't deny the truth in his words; my curiosity burned with a desperate need to understand.
A sly grin spread across Trynton's face, revealing yellowed teeth as he settled himself on a nearby crate. "I'm in the mood to share a few tales."