When Abaddon first regained consciousness, one of the soldiers quickly informed their General.
Moments later, Rykage and James rushed into the Cleric base. Seeing the boy awake and alert, James asked,
"Abaddon, how are you feeling?"
Abaddon met his gaze with a look that needed no words—it was pure rage. Rykage noticed and crossed his arms.
"Look, we understand. You despise humans to your core, but now that you're awake, the least you could do is show some gratitude." Abaddon glared back with a menacing intensity.
"Oh, I appreciate you, alright." He stood up, looking around and realizing he was in some sort of lab.
"Where am I?" he demanded. Noticing the awkward looks around him, James answered with a hesitant smile, "You're in the Steel military base."
At this, Abaddon clenched his head in pain as memories of Rhesus and his gang's brutal assault flashed through his mind. His expression darkened, and in a low tone, he asked for clothes and to be let out immediately.
But Rykage stopped him. Abaddon demanded to know why. Rykage replied seriously, "You're no longer a free man, boy. You're now the property of the Steel organization."
James tried to calm Rykage, reminding him this might be overwhelming, especially after being unconscious for two straight days.
Rykage's irritation was visible, and Abaddon, hearing this, looked at him with disgust.
"Property? I don't recall selling myself to anyone, nor do I remember my father giving me away… so I'll leave, whether you like it or not."
James and Rykage felt an intense, almost killing aura radiating from Abaddon.
"Watch your tone, boy! You don't have the right to demand that, nor the power to leave. Sit still and wait for what comes next," Rykage snapped.
"Sit still? For what, so you can murder me like you did my family? I don't think so. The last thing I want is to be taken care of by humans—I'd rather let a myth devour me alive."
At this, Rykage slammed his hands on the table, and James tried to calm him as tension filled the room. Some soldiers were taken aback by the boy's defiance, and Rykage furiously retorted,
"I don't care what you think! Let's see you try to escape our grasp. We should have sold you to the slave base—you're just a nuisance."
Things had escalated quickly, but Abaddon only laughed—a dark, chilling laugh.
"Slavery, huh? I expected nothing less from humans." He stepped off the bed.
"First, you kill the one who protected your worthless existence, then murder his family for some cheap reward, and now sell his child into slavery… how touching."
The room fell silent as guilt pressed upon everyone present. Rykage shouted, "Enough of your nonsense—" but Abaddon cut him off with a cold stare.
"Nonsense? I don't care who you are, but don't ever insult the dead. Their deaths were not nonsense."
Even as a young boy, James and Rykage could see it—left unchecked, Abaddon would become a force of destruction, it as if the god's knew of this that's why he was born normal. The hatred in his eyes for humanity was chilling.
"Abaddon, come on… we're not your enemies here. You're human too, remember?" But the boy's gaze said otherwise.
"Human… I thought I was one until I came to despise the very essence of it. But it's fine. I can't leave, even if I wanted to, so send me off to slavery."
The chilling response left James momentarily speechless. Rykage ordered several combat soldiers to take Abaddon to the S.T.E.E.L. scientist base.
As Abaddon exited with four guards behind him, he turned slightly to glance back at Rykage and James. His golden eyes glowed as he muttered.
"If I ever gain power… your so-called existence will be turned upside down. And I'll start with you."
Even the guards felt a shiver as Rykage silently turned to leave. James just stood there, watching Abaddon's back as he was led to one of the Magic vehicles, which then drove away.
On the way, Abaddon sat in the back of the vehicle with two Rankers beside him. Up front, the driver powered the vehicle with mantra energy, while another Ranker sat beside him.
Inside, it was silent, but for Abaddon, it was the loudest time in his head. The scene of his family's murder kept replaying in his mind, as vivid as if he were still there.
He thought about the Valkriath, the humans involved, and Rhesus, who had desecrated his parents' tomb. As he looked out the vehicle window, he silently reflected:
𝐴 𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑠𝑒, ℎ𝑢ℎ? 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝐼'𝑑 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑣𝑒. 𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒, 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎 𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑣𝑒...𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐴𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛 𝐸𝑚𝑝𝑖𝑟𝑒. 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑎𝑠𝑡...𝑏𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑜𝑤, 𝐼 𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑒-𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟...
Suddenly, Abaddon remembered something Achilles had once mentioned—a treasure in the outskirts of the empire, a place known as the Graveyard, where countless bodies had been discarded after wars.
The lingering hatred of the dead had formed an abyssal sanctuary, where a powerful weapon was rumored to have been forged.
Many Rankers had tried to enter the Abyssal Sanctuary, but the mist corrupted them. Abaddon thought to himself;
𝐼𝑓 𝑖 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟, 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑘 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒. 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑙-𝑜𝑟𝑒, 𝑠𝑜 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛𝑒, 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑦 𝑏𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑠 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑚𝑦...𝑎𝑙𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡. 𝐼𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛.
He glanced at the soldiers, noting their neutral expressions, and then turned back to the window.
𝐼'𝑚 𝑡𝑜𝑜 𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑘 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑠𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑢𝑦𝑠 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑤, He thought. 𝐵𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝑆𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑙'𝑠 𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑟, 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑙𝑦𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑛𝑒-𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑜𝑛 𝑅𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑣𝑒. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑎𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑤.
As the vehicle traveled over rugged terrain, massive mountains loomed, and the cries of ancient creatures echoed in the distance. Approaching the Black Lion Swamps, a habitat for countless myth's, Abaddon's alertness heightened.
Suddenly, cries pierced the air as a group of harpies descended on the vehicle, shrieking and launching relentless wing gales that scratched the vehicle with each hit.
the Harpies are myths with the torso, head, and arms of a woman and the talons, tail, and wings mixed with the arms of a bird. Very small but can be vicious when provoked.
One soldier alerted the others, "We're being pursued by harpies."
Scoffing, one of them evaluated the harpies with an appraisal stone, then smirked.
"Let me make quick work of them. They're just Vermin Class-I myths, nothing scary. We'd be in real trouble if a higher-level myth with intelligence showed up."
The soldier leaned out of the window, a gun materializing in his hand. As a one-star Common rank Ranger with a 'gunman' specialty, he channeled energy into his weapon and began shooting down the harpies with precise accuracy, dropping each one as Abaddon quietly observed.
𝑀𝑦𝑡ℎ'𝑠...Abaddon thought.
𝐴𝑛𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑔𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑒𝑥𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑑. 𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑙 𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑠...𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑙𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑙, 𝑉𝑒𝑟𝑚𝑖𝑛 𝐶𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠-𝐼 — 𝑚𝑦𝑡ℎ'𝑠, 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐶𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑜𝑛 𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑒.
After shooting down the harpies, the driver fueled the magic vehicle with more mantra energy, and it sped up even further, racing through the Black Lion Swamps.
Eventually, the group exited the swamps and arrived in Owais, a vast, desert-like wasteland.
In the distance, one of Steel's bases became visible. Bit by bit, they approached, and soon, they arrived at the Steel scientists' base. They brought Abaddon out, and together the five of them proceeded onward.
Abaddon observed quietly, going along without a word. The base was surprisingly beautiful inside, with greenery and plants surrounding the numerous labs scattered around.
A short distance away stood three colossal structures—the main facilities for scientific research in the Steel organization.
Mantra-Powered Mechanical animals roamed the area, showcasing the advanced technology of the base. The soldiers themselves carried an array of high-tech equipment.
As the group approached the main building, they were stopped by guards. The Rankers accompanying Abaddon projected their IDs from their watches and were swiftly granted entrance. Inside, they asked to meet the head of the base, waiting in the guest room.
Before long, an elderly, frail-looking man with a partially bald head and a long lab coat entered, escorted by his assistants. The soldiers greeted him with salutes.
"Greetings, Mr. Archimedes," one of them said respectfully. Archimedes was one of the greatest scientists at the Steel bases, revered by all.
He was also a devout follower of the goddess Klythara, often praying for wisdom and knowledge in her temple, despite his scientific prowess.
Upon his arrival, Archimedes asked the soldiers the purpose of their visit. One soldier gave Abaddon a slight push forward and explained:
"On orders from General Rykage, the Sabertooth of the Northern Mountains, we are to bring this child for slavery. He might be of use to the scientists."
After carefully observing Abaddon, Archimedes smiled and instructed his men to take the boy to the slave post. Once Abaddon was escorted away, he expressed his gratitude to the soldiers.
"I am truly grateful. Our science and research teams have been short on slaves. Our last expedition to Arcane Grove cost us so many. We're planning another at the beast-nest island, known as Maternal Myths Land, so bringing him here is very helpful. Thank you!"
The soldiers saluted him respectfully, then turned to leave, bidding farewell. Abaddon, meanwhile, was led through a vast laboratory, his eyes taking in the surroundings. There were technological project's going on than he had expected.
𝑆𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠, he thought to himself. 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒?
The guards led Abaddon down a narrow, dark hallway, a stark contrast to the lab he had just left. The hallway reeked with a choking odor that made it difficult to breathe.
Abaddon, showing no signs of disgust, still found something fouler he couldn't quite wrap his head around.
As they descended deeper into the hallway, Abaddon began hearing faint murmurs—hushed and fearful—drifting through the walls. With every step, the voices grew louder, melding into a low chorus of despair.
Finally, the guards and Abaddon exited the hallway and approached a large underground lab. The entrance was a massive, rusted iron door with a barred window through which dim, hazy light seeped out.
Abaddon observed the grand entrance and thought, 𝑇𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑓𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑦. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 ℎ𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑. 𝐼 𝑏𝑒𝑡 ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑑'𝑛𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑧𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑑𝑒.
He turned to look at the guards in front of him and continued his thoughts.
𝐻𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑧𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑦.
But before he could complete his thought, the clanging of keys drew his attention.
One of the guards smirked as he reached for a heavy set of keys at his waist, dangling them for a moment before unlocking the heavy, rusted door.
Without any warning, Abaddon was shoved inside. He stumbled but caught himself as the door slammed shut behind him. Abaddon gathered himself and looked around at his surroundings.
In a distracted way, he proceeded inside. Abaddon found himself in a cavernous room filled with children. This sight shocked him. Every face he saw was haunted, hollowed, bearing the marks of harsh treatment and deprivation.
Some children clutched their knees to their chests, while others lay stretched out on the filthy floor, their eyes distant and unblinking.
As he stood there, still trying to grasp what he was witnessing, a guard banged his baton against the bars, drawing everyone's attention with a sneer.
"Listen up, maggots! You're here to work, not to make friends," he barked.
"And you—" He pointed to a boy who had dared to look him in the eye. "You'll keep that head down if you know what's good for you."
The boy immediately lowered his gaze, his body trembling.
Abaddon, now visibly angry at the sight of the children in the room, scanned the place again, taking in the hopeless, exhausted expressions of the others.
He watched as a girl in tattered clothes, no older than eight, reached out to help a younger child who was shivering. A guard noticed and stepped forward, grabbing her by the hair.
"No helping each other," he yelled, slamming her back. She winced, but didn't cry out. Looking closely, her face already bore bruises, evidence of previous encounters with the guards.
Looking back at the guard who seemed thrilled to see the girl in that state, Abaddon clenched his fists. His action caught the attention of the other slaves, but their gazes pleaded with him to stay low, or else he would suffer.
Abaddon quietly understood and lowered his height, sitting cross-legged on the ground next to another slave who looked like he could die any moment. He thought.
𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑜𝑛-𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑟 ℎ𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑠. 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑠ℎ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑. 𝐻𝑢𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑡𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠...𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑑𝑠...𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑.
With a cold expression, he looked at a guard who was approaching from behind. As the guard entered, he tossed a half-loaf of stale bread onto the floor. In that moment, like a swarm of zombies, the slaves rushed toward the single loaf of bread, everyone fighting to get a bite.
What made the scene even worse for Abaddon was looking at the guard who glared at them, as if they were mere animals. He sneered at the children scrambling for the bread.
"Pathetic little rats," he scoffed. "You should be grateful we even feed you at all."
As this went on, one of the slaves, sitting in the corner, appeared new to the place, just like Abaddon. The boy seemed to have arrived earlier but sat in the opposite corner, observing the scene unfolding before him.
The boy muttered under his breath, clenching his fists tightly, "This isn't right… they're treating us like animals… What did we ever do to them?"
But as he murmured, his voice accidentally became louder, catching the attention of the guard. The guard turned towards him, narrowing his eyes.
"What did you just say?" he growled, advancing on the boy.
Seeing the guard approach, the boy stiffened, glancing down at the floor. The guard wasn't having any of that and quickly swung his baton, cracking it hard against the boy's ribs. The boy doubled over in pain, clutching his side.
"Speak out of line again, and you'll be the next to get a lesson in obedience," the guard spat, before looking around at the others.
"Anyone else have something to say?"
This act silenced the room, fear lingering in the eyes of the slaves, except for Abaddon, who watched it all with an icy expression.
He just wanted to get rid of the guard, but words without power meant nothing. The cruelty here was not only tolerated but encouraged, a system built to break their spirits and strip them of hope.
Focusing on the main goal before him, Abaddon considered how he could escape. But to do so, he needed to gather information about the activities related to the slaves, which meant he would have to find someone—someone not completely broken like him. Again, his thoughts were interrupted by another boy.
The boy came close to Abaddon, who continued sitting in a meditative position. Abaddon turned his gaze toward him, and without a word, the boy leaned in, whispering cautiously.
"I see you're a newbie... I saw how you were standing there with your fist clenched. That was admirable, but a word of advice. Don't become a scapegoat, because what you're seeing is just the tip of the iceberg. They punish us if we even look at each other," he said in a low voice.
"They don't want us to get any ideas… of escaping, or… or resisting."
Abaddon's gaze hardened at the mention of escape. In a low voice, he asked, "And has anyone ever tried?"
The boy hesitated, glancing around the room, making sure it was safe to respond.
"Some have… but no one ever comes back," he whispered. "The punishment for trying to escape is—"
Just then, a shadow crept over them. The boy fell silent as a guard's eyes fell on them.
Seeing this, Abaddon gave a slight nod, understanding without needing further words.
The guards resumed their patrol, occasionally hitting the bars with their batons or kicking children who were huddled too close together.
"Move it! Spread out!" they ordered, enjoying the sight of the children scattering like frightened animals.
All this continued to fuel Abaddon's anger. Already, he was not afraid of death. It was time to mature, he thought.
𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑢𝑡. 𝐹𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑒. 𝑀𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑜𝑘𝑎𝑦, 𝑠𝑜 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑠ℎ 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛...𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑛𝑦 𝑜𝑤𝑛.
Abaddon clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms as he lost himself in thought. The dim, filthy cell was filled with the quiet sniffles of children, their fear evident in their eyes, the bruises and cuts marking their skin. All of it felt like a wound festering in the darkness.
In a low, rage-filled murmur, he assured himself, 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝐼 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑒...𝑚𝑦 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟...𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑠ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑋𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑟.
-TO BE CONTINUED...