The Next Day
After barely sleeping through a night of cold wind, Leon was startled awake by the sound of shrill cries and screams.
Rubbing his groggy eyes, he sat up and looked toward the source of the commotion. Outside the cage stood several mercenaries who had appeared at some point.
These soldiers of Kantadal were guarding a man of higher status, dressed in a military robe adorned with a white bird insignia and carrying a sword. He was likely an officer or noble of Kantadal. The man's gaze was filled with irritation as he looked at the bickering inside the cage.
Two soldiers had roughly seized a woman inside the cage, trying to drag her outside. A young boy, however, was furiously shouting and clinging to her, kicking and resisting the mercenaries with all his strength.
Looking closer, it was the sibling pair.
"You bastards! Let go of my sister! Let her go!" the boy screamed, his bloodshot eyes filled with fury, though his voice betrayed helpless panic and sobs.
The sister, meanwhile, was already in tears, pleading in broken words for her brother to stop, urging him not to provoke the mercenaries into beating him further.
The Kantadal mercenaries, however, were clearly not in the mood for patience. They tossed the woman to the ground, one grabbing the boy by the hair and pulling him back, while another ruthlessly kicked him to the floor.
"Filthy pigs!" one of the mercenaries cursed in a foreign tongue, drawing his sword in rage.
Leon flinched instinctively at the sight. Any modern person with basic morality would feel deeply troubled by such a scene. Coupled with the original body's vivid memories of witnessing his parents' tragic deaths, Leon felt a surge of anger well up uncontrollably.
But rationality warned him—he was just a defenseless teenager at the moment, powerless to intervene.
A hand rested on his shoulder. Turning his head, he saw the boy he had met yesterday, Azarian, holding him back.
"Save yourself from a beating. We can't help him," Azarian said calmly.
The woman, thrown to the ground, was on the verge of breaking down. Seeing the mercenary's blade pointed at her only remaining family, she crawled over, tears blurring her vision, and clung to the mercenary's ankle, begging for mercy.
"Please… Don't hurt my brother. I'll go with you… Just don't hurt him, I beg you…"
The mercenary, his movement hindered, growled in frustration and reached out to yank her by the hair. But his fellow mercenary intervened, gesturing toward the slave buyer waiting outside.
Reluctantly, the enraged mercenary sheathed his sword. He grabbed the woman by her arms and dragged her out.
"Cough… Sister… You Kantadal scum!" The boy, coughing blood, roared in fury once more and staggered to his feet.
The mercenary blocking his way swung a fist, but the boy unexpectedly ducked under it and lunged forward. Leon's eyes widened as he saw the boy's shackled hands reaching deftly for the mercenary's sword hilt.
Unfortunately, the mercenary was unfazed. With a steady grip on his sword, he sidestepped and drove his knee into the boy's stomach.
The impact, loud and brutal, sent the boy sprawling. His battered body curled up on the ground, unable to withstand the pain.
The mercenary added another kick for good measure, knocking the boy unconscious.
"No! Please stop hitting him… I beg you…" The sister's heartbroken sobs faded as she was dragged further away.
"Filthy brat," the mercenary spat at the unconscious boy, clearly annoyed. After cursing some more, he stomped away, leaving the cage in oppressive silence once again.
The captives, whether indifferent or sympathetic, lowered their eyes. No one could help the boy, just as no one could help themselves. Such tragic encounters had become routine.
In some ways, the boy was even luckier than most. Many of the captives here had already lost all their loved ones in the earlier massacres.
With the mercenaries gone, Leon sighed and approached the unconscious boy. Squatting down, he examined his injuries. Bruises and welts covered the boy's sturdy frame, but fortunately, there were no life-threatening wounds. His breathing was steady, even in unconsciousness.
Leon turned the boy onto his side to ensure a safer resting position, but beyond that, there wasn't much he could do.
When the boy finally woke up, it was already afternoon.
His red eyes opened slowly, and his throat let out a beast-like growl, thick with grief and anger. He tried to sit up, but the pain in his chest and stomach made him clench his teeth, his body convulsing.
The agony caused him to curl up tightly. His pained howls eventually gave way to sobs, his rage turning into helpless despair.
Leon watched the boy bury his face in the ground, his body trembling, and chose to remain silent. If it were him, no hollow words could offer comfort in such a moment.
Time passed slowly, until even the boy's muffled sobbing faded.
As night fell, it was time for the mercenaries to throw food to the prisoners. This time, Leon didn't hesitate like yesterday and quickly moved to pick up the rations.
The half-portion Azarian had given him the previous day hadn't lasted, and his memories of feasts before his transmigration only made the current hunger more unbearable.
Perhaps because there were fewer people now, or maybe the mercenaries had thrown more food this time, the rations exceeded the number of captives.
Leon picked up a piece of the coarse bread and glanced at the boy who had lost his sister. The boy remained motionless in the corner, so Leon grabbed an extra piece and walked over.
Placing the second piece of bread in front of the boy, Leon sat beside him and began eating his own.
Even after Leon finished the dry, sawdust-like bread, the boy still hadn't moved, his hollow eyes staring into nothingness.
"If you want to starve to death here, you'll never see your sister again," Leon said, unable to hold back.
The boy remained unresponsive.
With a sigh, Leon added, "If you're not going to eat, I won't waste it. I don't plan on staying in this cage forever."
As Leon reached for the bread, the boy suddenly snatched it away. His grip tightened as if clinging to life itself, and with a fierce, almost animalistic determination, he began devouring the bread.
Seeing this, Leon shrugged. No extra meal for him, then.
After finishing the bread, the boy painfully sat up, his gaze fixed intently on Leon.
"…?" Leon felt a bit uneasy under the stare.
The boy remained silent for a moment before leaning closer and whispering through clenched teeth, "You said you don't want to stay in the cage forever… Do you have a way to escape?"
Nearby, Azarian seemed to catch wind of the conversation, his eyes drifting over in interest.
Leon realized what had stirred the boy. His earlier words must have been misunderstood.
"I don't want to be a slave, but I don't have a way to escape right now," Leon said regretfully, shaking his head.
Disappointment clouded the boy's face, but Leon added, "As long as we're alive, there'll be a chance to get out."
The boy lowered his head slowly, staring at the dirty ground beneath him. After a long silence, he muttered, "…As long as we're alive."
Dragging his battered body to the corner, he slumped against the bars.
Leon glanced at him and asked, "My name is Leon. What's yours?"
"… Lohak," the boy replied in a low, steady voice.
Noting the bruises covering Lohak's sturdy frame, Leon offered some advice. "Don't do anything reckless again."
"…What?"
"Do you want to get beaten to death before there's a chance to escape? At least don't let yourself get hurt anymore," Leon said. "If you die here, who's going to save your sister?"
Lohak heard this and gave Leon a long, deep look. Without a word, he nodded silently.
Leon sighed again, lowering his gaze to the shackles firmly binding his hands.
It was easy to speak of hope, but reality was still overwhelmingly bleak. Waiting for a fleeting opportunity felt almost futile, and even figuring out how to unlock these shackles was a daunting task in itself.
Closing his eyes, Leon decided to rest once more.
No matter what, as he had reminded others, he needed to conserve his strength and keep his spirit alive until an opportunity arose. Survival depended on it.