3rd POV
"I really can't get my head around it."
Said a man wearing a white navy uniform with a white trench coat with black stains all over it. The man had a humongous almost comical jawline and two pure black eyes, with a black mustache that was curled up. He was holding a baby wrapped in a slave's uniform which was essentially just some dirty brown rags with coal dust on it. He was of average height but he had a muscular body and a pistol holstered.
"Trust me I get *Yawn* I mean no matter what he has Celestial Dragon blood in him, even if his mother was a slave."
The man who said this was wearing a similar stained uniform, but he was much taller and thinner than the man next to him. He had a tall, thin, curved blade resting on his shoulder with a dirt-covered golden handle.
These two were known as the Festival Brothers, although that was mostly due to their part in massacring a huge fleet of pirates during something called the Festival of Flowers. The tall man was known as...
[Thorn Magal]
The man carrying the baby was named...
[Leif Magal]
Both were in charge of the slaves on Kings Island, a large uncivilized island populated only by Slaves and Marines, with the slaves being forced day in and day out to mine the natural resources of the island to support the ever-growing gluttony and greed of the world government.
"Yeah you'd think they want to raise him as one of their own, I mean at the end of the day they are the descendant of the Celestial Dragon."
"Then again *Yawn* it could be the fact they just didn't like the white hair he has, or this scraggly body."
"Either way we *Yawn* can't truly know what they think."
As they went down the stairs, the cave grew darker and darker with only the torchlight. Eventually, the stairs got wider, wide enough to fit crowds of people as more with marines stationed at tunnel entrances as slaves entered and exited some with bags thrown over their shoulders full of the mined resources like coal or perhaps rare jewels.
"Man, how far did they want this kid down?"
"We must've passed level 12 by now, or was it level 10 either way it's too far for me."
The tall man stretched his arms as a slave next to him fell dead and his body fell over the side as he exited the mines.
"The Lieutenant said the *Yawn* Celestial Dragon told them to bring the kid to the lowest level."
Hearing that Leif sighed as the baby was asleep in his hands, even then most people could tell that even this newborn child had a look of fear on his face.
"Really, guess he might have some sick sense of humor after all, I think the boy's grandfather is down there."
With that Thorn slapped his hands together while holding the handle of his sword with his elbow.
"Oh, I *Yawn* forgot all about that."
"Although that may explain the *Yawn* name they gave him."
Hearing this Leif looked over to Thorn shocked as they began to get closer to the bottom of this mine, of this pit.
"Really they named him, well tell me what'd they call him."
Thorn put his hand on his chin and began to think trying to remember the boy's name.
"I think they gave him the Number 6700, but they gave him the name...Prythias, I think it means rot or something."
They came to the lowest level, a place full of the oldest prisoners, and the corpses of those who had fallen from the higher levels scattered all around as the old folks were busy mining away at the walls, as others put in support beams.
Both brothers looked around, looking for one prisoner in particular although they were having a hard time doing so. Mostly because all the people here were either on the verge of death or were down here so long they were starting to look alike somehow. Eventually, they came across a particularly short man who had a long dirty white beard, a bald head, and hands with calluses on them.
He was thin but he still held a strong look to him, even if his muscles had faded with time. His eyes were lifeless as Thorn and Leif approached him with the child in hand, and when he saw the child a hint of life came to his eyes. Not one of joy, but one of sadness as they stopped in front of him.
"Slave *Yawn* 5699, I am afraid your daughter passed away after the birth but thanks to the ever vigilance of the Celestial Dragons, we have a replacement your grandson who has been given the number 6700 and *Yawn* the name Pythias."
"Make sure to *Yawn* raise him to be a diligent slave."
Leif handed the bundled baby to the old man who slumped down and began crying holding the child. Once their task was done, the two marines went back to the stairs and started making their way back upstairs, as more prisoners began falling to the bottom floor. A few of them splattered against the rocks, and others joined the ever-growing pile of corpses, as some of the old men took the bags a few of them fell down with up the stairs after the marines.
The old man began to speak weakly as tears streamed down his face.
"I'm so sorry Maria, I'm so sorry you were unable to escape with this child and...*sniff* and...*sniff* IM SORRY!"
He cried out as the child woke up crying, surrounded by the darkness of the pit as the slaves ignored his cries. Yet deep beneath their hearts, they cried as well knowing that this child would be raised in nothing but darkness and death, with only the cold of this mine to comfort him.
"I'll try to raise *Sniff* him with love *Sniff* but I hope you can watch over *Sniff* him from the sky even down here."
"And I hope that one *Sniff* day he can escape this horrible place and *Sniff* experience the world we once knew."
The old man's tears fell down on the child's face as he opened his eyes revealing crimson eyes, eyes that were already somehow dead.