Lament of the Slave

To me, other worlds were mythical places that existed only in books and in the minds of theoretical physicists. And of course, as a little girl, I dreamed of visiting such worlds. Who didn't, right? I longed for my own adventure in such a world, for you to be the heroine of my own story - one who would stand up to every wrongdoing in the land and eradicate it. Nothing and no one would be able to stand in my way, and all the villains would tremble at the sight of me. 

Well, we won't always get what we wished for, and now that I was all grown up, it wasn't just the villains who trembled at the sight of me.

The other worlds. There were many ways to get to them, some pleasant, some not, some I would prefer, some I would rather not even think about.

I dreamed of a king or his daughter summoning me to save their kingdom from the demon king; of my ability I would use it to cut my way through demon armies to his castle. I thought of all sorts of mysterious ways I could get to another world, wild magic gone awry, mere chance, or maybe a once-in-a-millennium cosmic convergence that would open portals to other worlds. That would be nice, too, but that childhood dream didn't come true either.

Frankly, I'd be okay with reincarnation, too. While living as a child would be challenging, I would manage; after all, I would have parents, friends, and a mostly normal life here. Reincarnation had one catch, though, and that was the need to die first. I never did. Twenty-eight was too young to die of old age, and I was too healthy to be struck down by a stroke. Not even an accident met my fate. No loose brick fell on my head, no truck with broken brakes smashed me to pieces.

I actually wished that had happened.

But no, I encountered something else, something far worse and more sinister.

Tired after an extremely long day at work - the sixteen-hour shift wasn't standard, but everyone in the flower shop was needed on Valentine's Day - I was returning home. Seeing myself in bed as a normal person would, I made a half-asleep stop at the supermarket to buy some food before continuing with my plan to get home as quickly as possible. I never made it there. 

Taking a shortcut through that back alley - not the typical urine-smelling, garbage-strewn one, but a clean and widely used shortcut during the day, unfortunately unlit at night - was the biggest mistake of my life.

I was fearless when I should have given in to my fear. I should have avoided it, not thinking I could handle anyone who dared to jump me. Big mistake. Sure, I took a few self-defense classes, but how to neutralize a twenty-centimeter-tall creature with wings hovering in front of you was not something they taught. And yes, that was what I encountered.

When I saw the creature, I was confused, thinking that my own brain was playing tricks on me out of exhaustion. Yet no matter what I did, massaging my temples, rubbing my eyes, the creature would not go away. The realization hit me, and with it, a thousand questions. What was the appropriate action to take in a situation like this? Stay still, run away, scream, or shake its hand? I never got a chance to find out.

The small flying creature reached out, not to shake my hand, which was in my purse in search of pepper spray, but to attack me. Before I knew it, I was engulfed in a blinding white light, ripped from my world, my friends, and my family. 

The next thing I remembered, after I came to, was standing in a dark cellar behind bars, through which a man with a broad grin looked at me, sizing me up, assessing me. It wasn't the pleasant smile of someone with good intentions, someone who wanted to help me. Little did I know at the time that it was someone who was excited about his new experimental subject.

My instincts were screaming at me to defend myself, or better yet, to run. Neither of those were options I had, though. Locked in a damp cellar, with no window light and no idea where the hell I was, held still by the madman's magic - of which I learned later - I never got a chance to show him the few moves I had learned in the self-defense classes. As soon as I showed up, he bound my body with magic, sealing my fate. 

I couldn't move or even scream while he put an iron collar around my neck. All I could do was silently cry when he activated it, and just stare blankly as notifications popped up in my mind - no blue floating windows in front of my eyes, just information streaming into my mind. It was the first time I was introduced to the system operating in this world. That was also when I was forced to take my Class, and it wasn't any I had ever dreamed of. I became a [Slave].

Name: Korra Grey

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 28

Class: Slave [Master - Frederic Dungreen]

Level: 1

Seeing that in my mind was horrendous, but it spoke bluntly of reality. There was a Class system in this world. 

Later I learned that everyone born here, upon reaching adulthood, could choose one of several Classes offered to them based on their past actions - most often what they did for a living. And so, with a good part of my life behind me, I could, too, choose from a variety of Classes, but that lunatic forced me to choose [Slave]. 

He didn't care that I was from another world, that I was well past adulthood, and that I was still Classless. In fact, I found out over time that he didn't even know about my background. He simply paid Fae - that creature's name popped into my mind when I looked at it - [Fae: lvl ????] - to bring him someone suitable for his perverted experiments. Of course, there were more conditions than that.

And so, in this cruel way, I discovered that this wasn't a world full of singing birds flying across the sky with a rainbow crossing over the flowering meadows where unicorns played. I soon learned that this was a heartless world full of suffering and pain, where slavery was a real thing that took away your free will if your master so desired. The freedom that had been a part of me all my life, and I couldn't even defend myself.

Losing it was cruel, so cruel, yet I found far crueler what that psychopath wanted to do with me. The man didn't see me as a human being, nor as a slave. To him, I was just an experimental subject, one of the lab rats in his basement that had the potential to achieve his goals. He didn't hide them, his goals. On the contrary, he often talked about them - gloated about his dreams and wanted us to understand how noble his vision was. Well, no matter how he saw it, neither I nor the others in the six cellar cells shared his opinion. And since he conducted his experiments in secret, I would say that most of the public did not share such a positive view of his vision, either.

Or so I mistakenly thought. Someone shared his goal, someone high enough to keep this maniac's experiments a secret. Someone with great interest in the outcome of these inhuman experiments; in creating a new Class, new soldiers, in giving humans more power than they were born with; in tricking nature and cheating the system.

This lunatic tried to mix man and beast; to allow humans to fly like birds and be as strong as bears, with magical powers to rival those of dragons. 

His experiments didn't involve stitching beast limbs onto humans or gruesome things like that, but what he was doing was not far from it. He created extracts from the monsters, the essence of what he wanted to put into people, what they were supposed to gain, which he then injected into the veins of his slaves. 

The first extract, essence if you will, that I received was the one that was supposed to enable me to fly. How? Through magic? I wished. This essence, like the previous ones, was not without serious side effects - mutations.

That madman didn't use a scalpel, but I couldn't tell the difference. What the essence did to me felt like he was cutting into my body and operating on me while I was fully conscious.

After days of agony, this mutation gave me wings and the General Skill [Flight]. The fool considered it a tremendous success and an incredible advancement in his research, even though I wasn't the first to acquire this ability, nor the first to grow a pair of wings. However, I was the first to have a relatively small and symmetrical mutation. 

That is, both of my wings were the same size, and the mutation was mostly confined to them, with a few exceptions on my body. I didn't grow a beak or talons like some.

So, yes, despite the fact that he jabbed me with that injection between my shoulder blades, and wings grew in the area of my hip, even though their span was only three meters and therefore incredibly small to allow me to fly, a successful experiment according to the madman. 

Well, one more thing, I didn't die. Lucky me, huh? Not really. Anyway, most of the people here with me didn't survive more than two essences. Only a few survived five. I lived through eight, but died five in the meantime.

During the fourth mutation, my heart stopped for almost thirty seconds. After the fifth, it was over a minute. It took five minutes for my heart to start beating after the sixth mutation, and I was practically dead for a quarter of an hour after the seventh. Sadly, I did not see the light at the end of the tunnel, I did not go to heaven, nor did I fall into hell - and I wished I had, no matter where I would ended up. There was nothing, though. I didn't remember anything during my death, as if I had fallen into a deep sleep only to wake up in my nightmare, locked behind bars.

That was until the eighth injection.

I don't know how long I was dead after I received it, but it was long enough for that madman to consider me dead. Long enough for him to remove the slave collar from my neck, take some notes, and dispose of my body as he had done with so many before me.

Since I was in his hands longer than anyone else, I've seen it many times. Dozens of people like me died in that cellar, and I must admit, I envied them so much. They had my respect for what they went through, something they didn't get from that lunatic even after their deaths. 

The only consolation was that he didn't dissect their bodies and just threw his failed experiments into the sewers. Well, he made US do it.

I had never seen a corpse before I appeared in this world. I attended several funerals, but all the dead were already in coffins. Here, at the behest of this maniac, I had to throw over a dozen bodies into the sewers. It broke me. That, and the thought that I would end up like this, that it would be my destiny, that one day a new pair of slaves who had the misfortune to fall into the hands of this bastard would throw me into the sewers. It was . . . too much.

Were it not for my passive skill [Indomitable Will], I would have gone mad a long time ago. Although I think "dr. Moreau" wouldn't mind if someone went insane as he only needed his subjects to be healthy in body, not in mind. 

Well, my nightmares and pleas had to be heard at the same point because, as I said, the eighth injection was it. I died - or rather, I'd been dead long enough.

And so, after more than a year of torture, I got out.

***

Shivering and chattering my teeth, cold, I sat curled up on the riverbank, OUT in the downpour, somewhere in this vast world. Cold to the bone, my feathers wet, my fur as well as the mane on my head soaked, I wished this wasn't a dream, a cruel trick of my mind to give me hope.

I wished . . . 

Honestly, I don't know how long I sat there with my legs pressed to my chest, my tail wrapped around my body and hidden under my wings, but it was long enough for the rain to stop and the sun to peek out of the clouds.

As soon as its rays hit my body, I looked up, the warmth falling on my cheeks, the bright light cutting into my eyes accustomed to the gloom of the cellar. Yet I continued to look and grin like a fool. It had been too long since I had last seen the sun. In fact, I forgot how much I missed it, how beautiful it looked, how amazing it was when its rays warmed my body. 

Suddenly, Eleaden - the name of the world I had learned from other slaves - was more beautiful than ever. 

Eventually I stopped crying and stretched out on the wet grass, spreading my arms, legs and wings, enjoying the wonderful feeling of just lying there in the warm embrace of the sun's rays, accompanied by the sounds of running water and the rustling of the leaves on the trees. It was incredibly peaceful and quiet here, in complete contrast to the cellar. There it was, just terror, fear, pain, weeping and screaming every fucking day.

Nevertheless, as much as I enjoyed it, everything had to end. I couldn't lie on the riverbank all day. So as soon as I was dry, I jumped to my feet and started walking along the river, following its flow, my only goal being to get as far away from the Cellar of Terror as possible. I knew I was in the kingdom of Arda, the river to my right was called Traim, and if I followed it, I should come across the border of the Sahala Empire.

It was a mystery to me why that lunatic was throwing his victims into a river that flowed into the territory of another nation. Not that I ever said it to his face; in fact, I never asked a single question about it, secretly hoping that one of those bodies would reach the Sahal Empire and they would come to our rescue. That never happened, and I became one of those corpses. It was now my duty to stop the fool's rampage and save those people from further experiments.

From the little information I had gathered from the slaves and my now former master, I knew that the Sahal was not a land of saints where everyone was equal and slavery was outlawed. It was a human empire, but tolerant of other races. As elsewhere, there were the rich, and those who lived in poverty. Slavery, though present, had its order, and slaves were treated like humans.

It was not an idyllic country by any means, but beggars could not be choosers.

For hours I walked along the river, its slow current and my skill soothing my mind. For the first time in months of captivity, I was able to determine how time passed, except for the system clock in my mind. I watched the sun set slowly toward the horizon and the shadows of the trees lengthen across the landscape. It was beautiful.

My walk stopped at the bridge over the river. That man-made structure meant one thing: an increased chance of running into someone. The question was whether to risk such an encounter or avoid it. A much easier decision to make if I knew in which country I was. Was I still in Arda? Or had I already crossed the borders? I could be miles away from them or already in the lands of the Empire. Without GPS on my phone and nothing like a system map in my head, it was simply hard to tell where the fuck I was.

Thus, my fear of lingering at the bridge. If I stay there and wait for someone to show up, I'll be risking a lot. It could be an Ardian who would immediately report me - an escaped [Slave] as Class was something everyone could see - to the nearest soldiers or Sahalan with whom I would have a chance to negotiate with.

Eventually, I decided to hide and wait for someone to come and tell me where I was, where the road led, and what cities were at its ends, sure that I could outrun them if I had to.

My [Faint Presence] skill helped me with the hiding. If I didn't want to, and if someone didn't focus their attention on me, my presence would go unnoticed. Some slave owners simply didn't want their property to be too noticeable and interfere with their daily lives.

As it turned out, the road wasn't very busy, and I sat there for quite a while, hiding under the bridge. So long, in fact, that the sun was low on the horizon by the time my patience paid off.

A wagon pulled by two horses appeared on the road on the left side of the riverbank. To be honest, I was a little relieved to see the horses, something familiar and not some otherworldly beast whose blood was now coursing through my veins. That aside, despite the distance and the gloom of the approaching sunset, what caught my eye besides the horses was an old man sitting on a wagon bench. He was wrapped in a cloak with a hood pulled down over his skull. But not deep enough to prevent me from seeing his bearded face. He looked tired, worried, and on guard.

My whole body tensed, my stomach clenched, my heart was racing, my throat was dry, and if it were not for [Indomitable Will], I would have run away a long time ago.

[Merchant: lvl 78]

The man was a trader, and apparently a good one. You see, the people of Eleaden gained levels in their chosen Classes, and those levels marked how successful they were. Most of them managed to reach a class level of about 50, while a man of level 75 was considered an expert in their craft when it came to the professions. One hundred and more, and you were regarded as a master in your field. As for adventurers and soldiers, level 100 was just the starting point for their trades.

I was [Slave: lvl 92].

I revealed my presence to an incoming merchant, but not my naked body. Even though I was nude for many months now, maybe even the years, I have not lost my shame. In that cellar, I was naked because I had no choice. I was stark-naked right now because of my lack of clothing to cover myself up with, but that didn't mean I would show my intimate parts to the world for everyone to admire.

By wrapping my fluffy tail around my waist, I covered my lap and ass. My chest was covered by my wings. Like that, I went out of my hiding place to the edge of the bridge and waited for the merchant to reach me. I was ready to flee at the slightest hint of anything that might threaten my newly acquired freedom. It could be that the merchant will ignore me and not even stop. If this variant occurred, I was ready to address him, but not to stop him by force.

The question was whether I could really do it, the hell I lived in for many months, and social isolation had to rub off on me somehow.

I tried not to look surprised when the carriage stopped right next to me. A man must have been a very experienced coachman if he could control his horses like that. Nervousness, anxiety, fear, I felt them all right now but tried not to show any emotion on my face. Thankfully, they were subdued by my ability [Indomitable Will].

"Hello, Miss," the merchant greeted me and smiled.

"I ..." I said, my fear stopping me. "..good evening, sir."

"I don't want to be rude or intrusive, but it's a little suspicious that you're at the bridge over the Traim at this time. You're not trying to rob me, are you, miss?" He asked me, the smile on his face not fading.

His attitude confused me. It was questionable if he was okay in the head, or was it normal to ask robbers and bandits if they are robbing you?

I shook my head. "No, sir ... I'm heading to the Sahal Empire."

The merchant laughed. His reaction really startled me and confused me even more. He was far too calm for my taste. I tried to be honest because of my need to find out where I was. So his answer was important to me.

"I'm sorry ..." the old man apologized after he stopped laughing. "... miss, I can tell you that you have achieved your goal. This is Sahal,"

That wasn't the answer I was expecting. After he started laughing, my thoughts focused on running away or killing the old man.

"Thank you," I said instead of attacking him. "would you be so kind as to tell me where you are going?"

The man smiled. "I'm going from Mitta to Castiana. You are more than eighty kilometers from Sahal's border with Arda."

As soon as he mentioned Arda, an invisible hand gripped my heart and began to crush it. How did he know I came from Arda? What were his intentions? Did he want to catch me and sell me, or even return me to Arda? As I saw it, that left two options for me, running away, and hope that no one would find me or try to attack him.

"Please calm down, miss," he told me with his pleasant voice. "I have no intention of returning you to that barbarians in Arda."

"How do you know ..." I asked him, but I couldn't finish the question.

The merchant scratched the back of his neck and smiled. "I see that you are a [Slave], a very high-level slave. Someone like you wouldn't be moving alone in the Sahal, not at this hour, and dressed in that."

What was wrong with my clothes? Maybe he saw through my deception and was hinting at my nudity. After all, I was wearing absolutely nothing.

"Oh. What do you mean, someone like me?" I asked him.

"The only ones in the Sahal who have the class [Slaves] are professional slaves, sometimes companions. They are all very skillful people and well paid. Definitely enough to allow them to travel by carriage," he explained.

I nodded. "I see..."

"My name is Liam Scoresby, miss," he introduced himself and held out his hand.

This gesture completely threw me off. It was an ordinary gesture, a general greeting in western civilization on Earth, and nothing that should move me so much and overwhelm my emotions. I didn't cry, yet tears welled up in my eyes, and even though I knew it may be dangerous to take an old man's hand, I shook it.

"Korra ... Korra Grey," I introduced myself with a smile on my face.

I must have looked crazy when I smiled at him with wet eyes. However, I quickly regained my emotions.

"Beautiful name, you must have had a hard time," he told me.

"..." I just nodded.

I couldn't talk about it, and I didn't want to.

"It was nice to meet you, miss, but I still have a few kilometers ahead of me that I have to cover before it gets dark," Scoresby said.

"Sure, just ..." I said, trying not to stutter my question. "... how far is Castiana?"

Under no circumstances did I want to approach Arda. Though Mitta wasn't at the borders, they were only a few kilometers away.

"If you want, I can take you to the city," the old man offered.

I frowned. "Is this really the Sahala Empire?"

Scoresby could be lying. He claimed that we were in the Sahal, but we could easily have been in Arda. I just didn't have a way to say it for sure.

To my surprise, the merchant pulled out a map and showed me where we were on it. I saw the river Traim with a bridge on the road between Mitta and Castiana, north of Sahal's border with Arda. However, it was not a map that reached the standard of modern maps on Earth, and although it showed landmarks and distinctive landscape features, I could not say with certainty that I was exactly where the man claimed. I could only say that I was somewhere on the river Traim.

"Do you believe me, miss?" He asked me.

But I couldn't answer him without lying to him.

"Then, I can only wish you good luck."

"May... can I ride with you?" I asked him.

Although I wasn't convinced, I didn't want to walk all the way to Castiana. That is if the city was there.

"Sure, Miss Grey," he told me, pointing to a spot beside him.

I tried to calm my emotions, which told me to run as fast as I could. But that wasn't the solution because I couldn't avoid people for the rest of my life and spend it somewhere in the wilderness like a hermit. I didn't even want that. I wanted a normal life, I wanted my life back, I wanted my body back, and I knew I couldn't do it alone.

Scoresby moved to the bench to make more room for me, and I sat down next to him. The old man said nothing more, and after urging the horses to go, the wagon sped forward across the bridge. At that moment, my mind was overwhelmed with memories of my life on Earth. It felt like years since I had last sat in a vehicle. The horse-drawn wagon wasn't a car, bus, or train, but it was enough to bring my eyes to tears again. What's more, it was my first ride on such a wagon. I've never sat in anything like this before, and so close to horses. They were beautiful animals, but I always had respect for them.

My stay in the hands of Frederic Dungreen forced me to get used to various kinds of pain, but what I felt after an hour of driving was something completely new. My ass on the wooden bench really suffered. The carriage was probably not sprung, and if so, very miserably. The bench was not covered with leather or cushioned in any way. It was just a piece of board. So my ass felt every stone on the road that the carriage wheels hit and the pothole it drove into.

Among the skills in the Slave class was a skill [Painless agony] that reduced pain, and a similar skill [Pain Resistance] was among the general skills that anyone could acquire. Although I experienced an incredible amount of pain here on Eleaden during my cellar time, I didn't have any of these two as my chosen skills. The reason was simple, that madman didn't want it. If his test subjects did not fully experience the pain while their bodies were mutating and used abilities to suppress it, it would affect his experiments' results.

But this was the kind of pain I didn't mind.

Nevertheless, it reminded me that among my skills were some I definitely wanted to swap for others. But I wanted to do it when I was calmer and thinking clearly.

We reached the rock valley in the middle of the forest before sunset. I wanted to get off the car quickly and let Scoresbi do his job, but it didn't go as I had imagined. My ass was really sore, so my dismounting was a bit comical. While the old man parked the cart and untied the horses, I rubbed my aching bum.

"I would like to ask you to do something for me, miss." He said as he removed the harness from the horses.

I nodded. "Sure...?"

"Could you pick up some firewood in the woods?"

"Won't it be wet ?!" I objected. It was raining when I woke up on the banks of the river Traim after all.

The old man shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"I'll do it," I agreed.

In fact, I was delighted he asked me. I felt quite insecure and just as embarrassed in his presence that I just stood there while he worked.

Collecting wood calmed me down a lot. It was a pleasant activity that didn't require thinking. Despite the rapidly coming darkness, I had no problem orienting myself in the woods thanks to my skill [Night Vision]. I brought three full arms of wood to the camp in a few minutes. When I wanted to go for the next one, Scoresby stopped me.

"That's enough, miss."

"Really?" I asked him because I had doubts that this wood would last us all night.

The old man shook his head. "You don't want to walk in the woods in this darkness."

I didn't want to oppose him, but I didn't have a problem going out there. Scoresby quickly started setting fire in the already existing campfire ring. He was very skilled, and soon our camp was lit by the flickering flames of a campfire. It didn't escape my attention that he started the fire with some device. It was much larger than a lighter, but with essentially the same function. During those few months in the basement, I saw several magical items to know that this was one of them.

If the merchant has it, it must have been relatively affordable. Still, it didn't tell me anything about how technologically advanced civilization was. After all, they were using horse-drawn wagons here. On the other hand, I didn't care at all. My worries were completely different.

For example, my sore ass, being naked, starving, and being in the presence of a potential enemy.

The pain in my buttocks was bearable, and I just couldn't sit down. My nudity was resolved thanks to my tail and wings, even though they were getting quite stiff. I needed to move them soon. My stomach rumbled as I was really starving. It was no wonder because it had been more than half a day since I woke up. I haven't eaten anything since then, and who knows how long my body was in the river. But the dead body should not need any nutrients. On the other hand, the last mutation should.

It didn't change the fact that I was hungry. Despite his madness, the bastard fed us well. The human body needed a lot of nutrients to handle all those mutations. I suffered enough to handle this hunger.

The biggest problem was Liam Scoresby. At first glance, a very nice old man, but I could not be sure of his intentions. He could just as well lead me into a trap, his pleasant appearance only aimed to distract my attention and reduce my vigilance.

"Are you hungry, miss?" Old man asked me, his hand outstretched to me.

I blinked in confusion as he suddenly yanked me out of my thoughts. Scoresby was holding something in his hand. It was a piece of dried meat, and even though it didn't look very appealing, it smelled lovely.

I was already reaching for the meat when I hesitated. It could have been poisoned, filled with something that would put me to sleep, and in the morning, I could wake up again behind bars and with a collar around my neck.

The old man smiled and took a bite of the meat he offered me and ate it, just to offer it to me again.

"It's fine, see?"

I nodded, "Thank you."

I took the meat from him, and although I still had my doubts, I bit into it. Once I tasted the first bite, I couldn't stop, and the piece of dried meat disappeared in my stomach in less than a minute.

"I'm glad you like it," Scoresby said as he nibbled on his piece of dried meat.

I narrowed my eyes. Why did he say that? Was the old man glad I ate the food because it was part of his plan? Was the meat really poisoned? Maybe I'd better throw it up, but I didn't feel any changes in my body. I didn't felt sleepy or dizzy. That's why I decided to leave the contents of my stomach where it was.

The old man offered me another piece of dried meat and water from a waterskin. Of course, I waited for him to taste the meat and water first.

"I thought everyone had [Pain resistance]," he said. It was not a question, but a fact.

How could he know? Was he able to see my status? Because I thought that was not possible.

"How do you know?" I asked him, ready to flee or attack immediately. "How do you know I don't have [Pain resistance]?"

Scoresby grinned. "Then sit down, miss, and I'll tell you," he pointed to the ground.

"Oh," I said blushing.

I realized what he was talking about. He must have noticed that I had a problem with a sore ass.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of. My wagon is not exactly the most comfortable, and who is not used to it will suffer just like you," the old man said.

"I see..."

"But most people don't suffer as much as you do because their [Pain resistance] reduces the pain," he said, throwing another stick into the fire. "I thought [Slaves] had one similar skill among their class skills."

It wasn't a question, but I nodded. "That's right."

"I've heard that many slaves in Arda are ordered not to choose these skills. Their masters want them to feel pain when they punish them or when they want to enjoy the way their slaves suffer. They are barbarians," Scoresby said.

"What about the Sahal?" I asked him.

The old man smiled, probably glad he got more than a one-word out of me." It is forbidden. I'm not saying that everyone is treated well, but this is banned."

"Ah," I said with a nod and hesitated. "You said that there were professional slaves like me in the empire. What did you mean by that?"

"Um," he cleared his throat and drank water from his waterskin. "In the Sahal, slavery works differently than in the Arda. Only criminals and indebted people become slaves. The length of their slavery also varies according to their crime. Murderers become lifelong slaves. If they steal something and are unable to repay it, they become slaves until they work off the stolen item's value. Likewise, if someone is unable to pay off their debt, they can become slaves and work off the debt. Then there are the war slaves, captured soldiers. But in recent years, the empire was not in many conflicts. That is why you will not find many war slaves in it.

"To answer your question, let me start from the origin of most [Slaves]. If two slaves have a child in Sahal and that is allowed, then it is born free. The amount of punishment of his parents doesn't matter. When these children grow up, they are allowed to choose the profession they want and be who they want to be. I know that this is not the case in Arda, and the children of slaves are forced to choose a profession [Slave]. They are even more valued than slaves with title only.

"So you might think that there should be no such people in the Sahal. Who would choose [Slave] as their Class, right? Well, there aren't many, and most come from Arda. Like you, they managed to escape, though it is a mystery to me how you got across the border patrols." Scoresby said, shaking his head.

Guards guarded the border? Of course! How did I get through them? I have no idea, but it probably had something to do with the fact that I was just a corpse floating in a river.

The old man continued to explain. "So a professional slave is a profession in the Sahal, just like a blacksmith or a seamstress. People with this profession are hired for the work of slaves and are paid for it. Well paid, because thanks to their class, they do it really well and no one has to force them.

Sometimes people with this profession work as companions, but it is not so common."

"Companions?" I said aloud without wanting.

However, I wondered if he meant…?

"Whores, forgive my vocabulary, miss," the old man apologized.

"It's okay, I asked," I told him quickly. Fortunately, in the light of the fire, he couldn't see that I blushed.

Frederic Dungreen was undoubtedly insane, but I was grateful for one thing. He never raped me. None of the women or men who were in the dungeon were raped. He saw us only as test subjects, nothing more.

"Miss Grey, may I have a question?" Scoresby, an old man, sitting on a blanket on the other side of the campfire, asked me.

I hesitated, not ready to talk about myself, about what had happened to me. I still wasn't sure if the merchant could be trusted or if I could expect to end up with a collar around my neck.

"You can," I said with a nod.

It depended on the nature of his question whether I answer him.

"My memory is not what it used to be, but I can't remember a race like yours. You are not a Dwarf, a Gnome, or an Elf. I'll be bold and say you're half-beastmen, but I've never seen anyone like you. Those horns, charming eyes, and beautiful ears, are something I would remember," said the old man.

Yeah, that was something I couldn't hide. Like those of deer, two horns were growing from my forehead at the edge of my hairline. The left one was short, only about ten centimeters long. The right one was about fifteen centimeters long in the middle with a small protuberance. This was the only mutation on my body that was not symmetrical.

My ears were another feature that I could hardly hide. They were the ears of a mammal I had never seen in my life. They were big ears. One ear was almost thirty centimeters long, and when I lowered it, it touched my shoulders. However, their natural position was horizontally tilted somewhat backward.

My eyes were brown all my life, and I was satisfied. It wasn't an eye-catching color, but I didn't mind. Now the irises of my eyes were green with a purple circumference and veins intersecting the green.

Scoresby didn't mention it, but another mutation on my head was my mane. It was the mane of some mammal, different from the one to which my ears belonged to. Not that those ears belonged to anyone before, they were mine, just mutated. My hair was much thicker, firmer, and healthier now. You could say they were what a woman could wish for, right? Almost. They were too thick and bulky. The first weeks after the mutation, was hell for my neck. I suffered from severe neck pain.

When I underwent this mutation, it also had other unexpected side effects. The mutation wasn't limited to my head hair. The madman Frederic Dungreen was eagerly taking notes when he observed me. He explained that this mutation was a combination of my previous one, my ears, and this new one. Therefore, now my eyebrows were thicker than before. My nose's bridge was covered with fine short hair, and my teeth had the features of carnivore's teeth—especially my canines, which were longer and sharper now.

As other mutations followed, especially my tail, smaller changes began to appear on different parts of my body. White hair grew under my collarbones above the sternum between my breasts. Surprisingly, my back remained bare, fur appearing only under the wings on my ass, which was now all covered with it. As is said, thanks to my over a meter and a half long tail. The hair on it were very long, soft to the touch, and large in volume. Thanks to that, my tail looked like something huge, as its diameter with hairs was about eighty centimeters.

My calves were overgrown with hair, but feathers grew around my ankles. On the contrary, my wrists were covered with white fur, elbows with feathers. The small thing was the change of hair in my armpit and lap to fine white fur.

The overall color of my fur was probably affected by the color of my hair. I was a redhead. Most of my fur was the same red color, with the exception of white to light gray spots. Like the ends of my hair, the inside of my ears, the hair between my breasts, my wrists, the top of my tail, and its end. On the contrary, the wings were white to light gray, with red ends.

So I was not surprised that the old man was interested in my race and had never seen it. The race whose members had the same form as me simply did not exist.

I sighed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"How do you know what I would believe and what I wouldn't?" He asked with a smile on his face.

He was right, I was just assuming it, and I shouldn't follow prejudices.

"I'm not ready to talk about it," I told him the truth.

I wasn't ready, and I really didn't want to talk about it.

Scoresby smiled. "I see, then it will be another mystery to me that will remain unsolved."

"I'm sorry," I said.

I felt that after what he was doing for me, he deserved to know the truth. I wanted the whole world to know it. At the same time, however, I was terrified that I would end up behind bars again when the world finds out.

That's why I remained silent.

"You don't have to apologize. When you're ready, I'll be happy to listen to your story," the old man said, lying down on a blanket. "I must apologize to you now. I don't have anything for you to lie down on to or cover up yourself with."

"Oh, I don't mind. Why don't you sleep in the wagon?" I asked him.

He grinned. "The nights are cold, and the fire is warm. But I will not park my wagon so close to the fire and risk burning it at night."

"I see," I nodded.

"You should sleep too. We'll leave at dawn," he told me, tangled in a blanket.

He turned his back to the fire, and our conversation was over. I didn't mind, and I rather welcomed the silence that ensued. Silence accompanied by the sounds of a crackling fire, the old man's breathing, the sounds that horses sometimes made, and the nightlife in the forest.

But for me, it was a beautiful paradise. The nights I remember were filled with crying people, mad mumbling when their minds couldn't stand the torment and pain.

When I looked at the sleeping Scoresby on the other side of the campfire, I could do nothing but envy him. I was determined not to close my eyes, the food might not have been poisoned, but that didn't rule out the possibility that someone might be hiding in the woods. All they had to do was wait until I fell asleep. In the morning, I would wake up in the hands of my new master. Nevermore.

I have no masters.

I couldn't deny that I was a little paranoid. More than a little, very paranoid, but I won't apologize for it. Scoresby was very nice, and I was grateful to him. He took me with him, gave me food, and let me join him at his fire. If we really arrive in Castiana tomorrow, I was ready to apologize to him. Until then, however, everything was possible, and I was determined to be careful of him as well.

The old man thought I didn't see him, but he was wrong. As he tangled in the blanket, he carried a dagger and a magical tool. The item was different from the lighter. Either he was as ready to attack me as I was him, and it will only depend on who is faster, or it was protection from me. Who would just trust someone he meets on the road and without problems would fall asleep in their presence. He would have to be a fool, and Liam Scoresby didn't seem like a fool to me.

I carefully threw a few branches on the extinguishing fire so as not to wake him, and I continued to enjoy its flames and the peace around me.

In the end, I couldn't take it anymore and had to stretch my wings and tail.

"Ahh…" faint sound escaped my throat, along with it arrived relief in my new limbs. I hadn't moved my wings and tail for so long that they were really numb now. Fortunately, feeling returned to them very quickly, especially after I spread my wings to full width and let them warm up. I felt free again.

The collected wood could not last all night, so I went to the forest several times for more. It didn't seem as dangerous to me to be in the woods at night, as Scoresby described. I kept the fire going all night, just as I hadn't closed my eyes, not even once.

When morning came, and the old man woke up, I was sitting by the campfire with my legs crossed, my tail in my lap, and my wings on the ground. My left hand covered my breasts.

The fact that Scoresby is waking up did not escape my attention. I could take the same position as yesterday. I really wanted to and had to fight my body and emotions not to do it. Scoresby gained a little of my trust and deserved a bit of mine in return. It didn't mean I wanted to reveal myself to him. I wasn't an exhibitionist. No, I wanted to show him my wings and tail.

The old man unwrapped himself from the blanket, stretched, yawned, and farted hard. Then he looked at the still-burning fire and at me. A smile appeared on his face.

"Good morning, Miss Grey," he greeted me.

"Morning, sir."

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Did you sleep at all?"

"No," I told him honestly.

"I see," he said nodding. "Thank you for keeping the fire going. My old bones will definitely appreciate it. How about a piece of dried meat? Unfortunately, I have nothing else."

After my nod, Scoresby got up from the ground to take something out of his wagon supplies for breakfast. I was grateful to him, but once again, I had his meat and water tested first.

When he served me dried meat, it was the first time he had noticed my wings and tail. His surprised expression amused me.

"Yesterday, I was wondering what a strange outfit you are wearing," said the old man, clearing his throat to hide his surprise. "I must be really old that I didn't notice it was your wings...and tail."

"Yes, tail," I said, waving the tip of my tail so I wouldn't reveal my lap.

"An unusual combination," he muttered.

I frowned and asked. "Have you seen anyone with wings and a tail?"

The old man smiled. "Not like yours. I met a couple of beastmen who have wings. For example, Avier has wings that grow from their backs. But their wings are larger than yours. Harpies have hands covered with feathers and serve them as wings. Every beastmen has a tail, but I've never seen one with a mammal's tail and wings."

I did not expect such an answer. A simple yes or no, would have been enough. Plus, I wasn't a beastmen, so none of them could look like me. I had no idea what I was. Was I still human? That lunatic was trying to make some kind of better human, so maybe I was Supreme Human? I definitely didn't feel that way, more like a mutant. Oh, like X-men, however, I did not have their uniforms.

Scoresby didn't wait for my answer and returned to his wagon, the contents of which he began to rummage through. While constantly mumbling, he emptied the contents of something in the wagon. In a moment, he returned with a piece of rag. Old dirty canvas sack.

"...as I said, I don't have much to give you. When I travel alone, I can do with little. I know this is just an old sack, but I thought you could use it to cover yourself up," he said.

"How?" I asked.

Scoresby didn't think that far. However, together we came to a successful solution when we cut a strip of fabric from the sack, which I tied around my chest. The rest in the form of a wide strip of fabric I tied around my waist, like men wearing towels, only shorter and with a knot over my tail. It was like having a skirt halfway up my thighs and going commando.

It wasn't the first time, but it was a different time and in a different world.

While I was dealing with my lack of clothing problem, Scoresby hitched up the horses to the wagon and was ready to go.

"What do you say?" I asked him about his opinion on my clothes with my hands on my hips and outstretched wings.

The old man smiled. "A little short for my taste, but it suits you, miss."

"I agree with you, I'd rather worn more too, but I'm grateful for this," I said.

Scoresby did not comment further. He knew it wasn't much, that it wasn't real clothes, and I didn't even want more from him. He didn't know that it was the first piece of fabric I had worn in the last year.

As soon as I sat down on the bench next to him, we drove forward. After the first few minutes in our journey, the bruises on my ass reminded themselves. It was immediately clear to me that this wouldn't be a pleasant journey.

But time was running fast for me, as is the case with things you are not looking forward to. I wanted to get to the city, hoping so much that it really would be Castiana. However, I was terrified of what would happen when I met its inhabitants, especially its rulers.

"Is there an army in town, I mean the Sahal army?" I asked Scoresby.

The journey was quiet, we hardly spoke at all, but I knew it was my fault.

The old man shook his head. "No, but Castina has his guardsmen."

"What are they like?" I asked.

"I know what you really want to ask, miss," Scoresby said, whipping reins to push the horses. "You want them to listen to you and punish your former master. I don't want to disappoint you and deliberately deprive you of hope, but you should be prepared for them not to do anything like that. They are the guardsmen of Castiana. Even if it were an army, they would not invade another kingdom's territory. It would only start a war. Although Sahal disagrees with the treatment of slaves in Arda, the empire cannot do much with it without a military confrontation."

Would that be so bad? If there were slaves like me in the whole Arda, would that be so bad? I know that war would cause suffering to many innocent people, but it would also prevent more suffering. But I couldn't be sure. It wasn't even my decision to make. How a slave like me could command an army.

"Will they at least listen to me?" I asked.

"Sure, they will," Scoresby said with a nod. "They wouldn't even let you into town without talking to you."

"Why?"

"You have no ID card. You have to prepare to be asked where you are from and what you are. But you don't have to worry, they will just ask. I know a few Guardsmen. They are nice people."

That didn't reassure me much. On the contrary, I began to consider whether the trip to the city was a good idea. Whether it was worth the risk. But I didn't have many other options. Without food and water, I wouldn't survive very long in the wilderness. I could still try to rob Scoresby, but that would put everyone who hunts outlaws on my tail. The closer we were to Castiana, the more this possibility was out of the question.

Then, when we went up the hill in the midday sun, and I saw a high-walled city in the distance, the thoughts of robbing the old man were gone. Instead, I wanted to run away immediately, fighting my instincts and emotions, which were trying to overwhelm my mind.

(ding) Indomitable Will (IV) reaches lvl 107

Yeah, that was my Class skill with the highest level. The skill without which my mind would have long since collapsed like a house of cards. It didn't matter if I was free right now. Such suffering cannot be forgotten without leaving a mark on you. Even now, I suffered. The strange system operating in this world confirmed it to me when my skill gained another level.

I was sweating from head to toe, my body shaking, and my heart racing as we reached the gate. The fact that there was already a wagon in front of us didn't help my nerves. When we finally started moving, I almost jumped out of the carriage and fled.

"Hello, Liam," Scoresby was greeted by one of the four guardsmen. "Shouldn't you have arrived yesterday? Marlen was worried about you."

"Nice to see you, Frank. This wagon has had its best years. I had to have the wheel fixed. Luckily I was still in Mitta, when it broke. It delayed me, but half a day," the old man told him.

Oh, so that was why he had to sleep halfway between cities. He didn't tell me, but I didn't ask him either. All the guardsmen's sight then fell on me, and I froze like a doe in front of the high beams.

"And who are you, miss?" guardsman Frank asked.

"I…." I was unable to speak.

"She's a slave from Arda," Scoresby said, for which I was grateful. "I met her at the bridge over the Traim."

"Another slave, Liam? When will you stop?" Frank asked.

The old man shrugged. "You know me when I stop working and stay home with Marlen."

"She would definitely like that," Frank said.

That made Scoresby laugh. "….Oh yes, she would."

"All right, miss, do you have an ID?" Frank asked me.

"…" I shook my head. I didn't have it.

"They should issue it to you in Mitta," he said, narrowing his eyes.

(ding) Indomitable Will (IV) reaches lvl 108

Shut up. I shouted at the system.

"I don't think she came through Mitta, but swam the Traim," Scoresby said for me.

"Is that so, miss?" The guard asked me.

I nodded quickly. "…"

"Interesting, what is the border guard doing?" muttered one of the guards, shaking his head.

"Miss, can I ask you to get out of the wagon?" Frank asked.

"You don't have to worry, Miss Grey. You're in good hands. Frank is a good man. I will vouch for him," Scoresby told me.

But it was easier said than done. I was just a bundle of nerves, my body was trembling, and when I tried to get out of the wagon, my bruised and stiff ass joined in. Were it not for my wings and tail's quick reactions, which helped me keep my balance, I would have landed with my face-first on the ground. Now I was looking at the wide-eyed expressions of the four guardsmen. It wasn't the best first impression I could make, and I definitely didn't intend to show myself that way.

Three men and one woman stared at me with astonishment for a moment before a guardsman named Frank cleared his throat.

"Are you all right, miss?" He asked me.

No, I wasn't. My body was shaking, my ass hurt, and I was looking at armed guardsmen who had a higher level than me.

[Guardsman: lvl 125]

[Guardswoman: lvl 122]

[Guardsman: lvl 134]

[Guardsman: lvl 118]

One of them was so red in the face that the probability of him attacking me was really high. He must have been pretty angered by me for delaying them.

Thoughts of escape did not leave me, but its implementation was now completely impossible. I was so scared I was glad I was standing at all.

When I was asked by the guardsman if I was okay, I just nodded.

"Well, people, do your work," guardsman Frank ordered.

The other guardsmen began inspecting Scoreby's wagon and its contents, while guardsman Frank stayed with me. He has the highest level of them all.

[Guardsman: lvl 134]

"Miss, if you want to enter Castiana, you must have an ID card. You don't have it, so we need to ask you a few questions and verify your identity. You may be surprised, but it's our captain's job. I'll take you to Guards Barracks, where the captain will ask you some questions. I'd appreciate it if you could give me some information I could give our captain before meeting you."

"…" I nodded.

"Very well," Frank said. "Liam, I'll take her with me. Nice to see you and say hello to Marlen for me."

"I'll tell her, Frank," Scoreby smiled. "Miss Grey, I wish you good luck in your life."

"…" I just nodded again.

I wanted to tell him more, maybe thank him, but I couldn't do it right now. I was sorry.

"Please follow me," the guardsman told me.

I didn't want to, but I did not have much choice. My steps were wobbly as I followed him. We went through the city gate, behind which we entered a small guardhouse. The fact that no one was inside didn't calm my nerves, and dark thoughts began to fill my mind.

Frank sat down at the table and pulled a pen and paper from the drawer.

"Sit down, miss," he pointed to a chair across from him.

After a moment's hesitation, I tried to sit in a chair, but what followed was an awkward attempt. The back of the chair made it quite impossible for me to sit. More precisely, my wings and tail did. I could have twisted the tail aside, but I had a bigger problem with the wings.

"There's a stool over there," the guardsman pointed to a wooden stool in the corner of the room.

I immediately exchanged it for a chair. Now I was mad at him for not telling me sooner. I could have saved myself this humiliation.

"Tss…" I hissed in pain when I finally sat down.

Yes, I forgot my bruised ass. However, the guardsman didn't comment on that and waited until I was ready for interrogation.

"Can we start?" he asked.

I nodded "…"

"So, miss, from what Liam Scoresby said, I deduce your last name is Grey?" the guardsman asked.

"Korra…" I managed to say out loud.

The man looked at me and then asked. "Korra Grey?"

"Yes"

"Korra Grey, female, Slave lvl 92," the guard muttered as he took notes.

"So, miss Grey, did you come from Arda?"

"Yes"

"Did you come across the Traim river? Is that so?" he asked.

"Yes"

Guardsman frowned. "Didn't anyone catch you crossing the border?"

"Yes," I replied but hesitated. "I mean, I haven't met anyone."

He smiled at my answer, even though I didn't think it was good news for border guards.

"Who was your master?" He asked me.

At that moment, I began to breathe hard, and even a growl-like sound came out of my throat.

"Frederic Dungreen," I said.

Guardsman Frank wrote this name down. "How long have you been his slave?"

"I don't know," I said, sighing. "… Months, maybe more than a year."

"Well, that would be enough. As I said, this is not my job, but our captain's," said the guard.

Then he took a black plate covered with runes from another drawer and placed it in front of me. It was a magical tool. I knew it. I just didn't know its function.

"It's an Identification Tablet. Put your hand on it, please." the guardsman said. "Don't worry, it'll just verify your name and profession, nothing more."

All I could do was trust him. Frederic Dungreen used something similar on his slaves, but the magical tool was not so small and did not have a tablet's shape. However, it showed him all the system information about the slaves.

My hand shook as I placed it on the plate. As soon as I touched it, the runes on the Identification Tablet glowed. Guardsman Frank and I were now watching the text hovering over the plate.

Korra Grey

Slave: lvl 92

The guard took notes again, then took the Identification Tablet back. He folded the notepaper and put it in his pocket.

"All right, miss Grey," the guardsman said, standing up. "I'll take you to the captain."

"Okay," I nodded.

Even though I had to listen to the guardsman, my hands were still free, and my neck was without a collar. I got up from my stool and let the man guide me. Guard barracks were not built near the walls, nor in the city center. They stood somewhere between them. I couldn't pinpoint their position in the city when I didn't see its map.

But we walked through a part of town before we reached the barracks. My expectations weren't very high from the beginning, so I wasn't disappointed. Multi-story medieval buildings of stone or wood lined the streets, on which people moved together with horse-drawn wagons. It was an incredible sight for me, something I only saw in movies or in old pictures.

It was not a clean city, but which city was? As I walked barefoot, I had to watch my steps, not to step on something I would regret. The streets themselves were not lined with sidewalks, so people walked among the wagons. Luckily traffic here was not as heavy as in modern cities, and people on the streets seemed satisfied and happy to me. I envied them.

However, I didn't focus as much on my first walk through the city as I should. My thoughts were more focused on my upcoming interrogation from the captain in the barracks. It was a small stone fortress full of guardsmen.

Well, maybe that was a little exaggerated. There weren't that many of them. But I saw at least a dozen guardsmen on the courtyard. My own guardsman led me to the largest building in the fort. There I found myself in front of a young man in uniform sitting at a table overflowing with stacks of papers. I couldn't get rid of the assistant's impression.

When we reached him, he looked up from the ledger he was filling something into.

"Frank, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at the South Gate?" He asked.

"I'm just doing my job, Travis," he replied. "Do you know Liam Scoresby? He returned from Mitta here with Miss Korra Grey. She doesn't have an ID, so I'm leading her to the captain."

The man at the table looked at me and then frowned. "Do you have any information I can give to the captain or just the name?"

Guardsman Frank pulled out a note sheet he had written earlier and handed it to the assistant. He took it, inspected it, and sighed. "All right, Frank, take her to interrogation room number two. Captain is now with the mayor, so it will take a while."

"Sure,"

I was introduced to one of the interrogation rooms, a small room with only a table and two chairs. At first glance, it was not a pleasant room, cold, austere, almost reminiscent of a cell. I lived in worse conditions for months, and this room even has a window. It was barred, but it wasn't in the basement.

"All right, miss. You heard, the captain has a job now. You will have to wait a while,"

"…" I nodded.

"So I'll say goodbye to you here," the guardsman said, smiling and leaving the room.

As he closed the door behind him and locked it, I panicked. It was here, I went right into their arms alone and voluntarily. Not much work for them, and now they had me locked in a cell. All they had to do was put a collar around my neck, and I was back where I started.

I found the room corner as far away from the door as I could, curled up, and waited for my new master to arrive.

A loud bang, echoing through the room, woke me from my thoughts. I quickly raised my head to find the source of the noise and stopped. Next to the table stood a tall woman in guard armor. She looked directly at me, judged me, and thought about my price as a slave.

"I hate to wake you, but I have a pretty busy day today," the woman said. "Korra Grey? I suppose?"

"Yes," I nodded.

What? What did she say? I didn't sleep! I was just thinking, didn't I? Hmm…. Maybe I really fell asleep. After all, I was up all night. But how could I be so careless like that? I couldn't afford that.

The woman saw that she had my attention, so she sat down at the table, where she unfolded the papers she had brought with her.

"Please sit down," she said, pointing at the chair across the table.

I frowned. "Don't you have a stool?"

"I'm sorry we don't, turn the chair around," she said as she read the notes.

What did she mean? Turning the chair around, like sitting on it the other way round? It was a solution, but...yes, I'll do it, ma'am. Her gaze told me she didn't like my hesitation. Apparently, I was disrupting her schedule today. I turned my chair over and sat on it with its backrest in front of me.

Now I didn't have a problem with the wings and tail. But it wasn't comfortable either. Because of the backrest, I had to sit with my legs spread. I didn't mind. My problem wasn't with that, but with the fact that I was commando under my improvised skirt.

"Korra Grey, Slave level 92, former master Frederic Dungreen, in slavery for over a year," she read aloud from the notes. "Tell me, what kind of race are you?"

"Who are you?" I asked instead of answering.

I don't know where it came from. I was surprised that I found the courage to ask her like that.

"Castiana's City Guardsmen Captain Sanysia Rayden, so what are you?" She asked again after introducing herself.

I closed my eyes for a moment, then looked at her. "Would you believe I'm human?"

"I'd love to hear how one can have ears like you…"

So I started telling her my story and told her everything, including not being from Eleaden. I started telling my story from the beginning, how Fae kidnapped me, the experiments, the mutations, my death, the meeting with Mr. Scoresby, and finally, I described the way to Castiana.

Captain listened to me all the time and just nodded sometimes. At first, I didn't understand why I was telling her all this. I definitely didn't want to tell anyone I was from Earth. In the end, I came to the conclusion that there must be magic in work here or some skill that calmed me down and forced me to tell the truth. However, when I looked at Captain Rayden, I did not see that her class had anything to do with the interrogation.

[Warrior: lvl ??]

It wasn't the first time I saw someone with question marks instead of a level. When I was forced to choose the Slave class, my level was 1. I saw all the other slaves with question marks. Mostly one, only a couple with two. It told me one thing, this woman was powerful.

But it didn't change the fact that I told her everything without wanting to. Now I could only wait for her reaction. The silence that came after I finished my story was nerve-racking.

"How did you get across the border?" She asked.

Was that her first question? I was shocked.

"Eh, I don't remember," I said, scratching my neck. "I think I was still dead. As I said, I woke up on the riverbank, just a few hours walk from the bridge over the river."

"I see," she nodded. "This is a potential threat."

"Really?" I wondered.

"Well, it's not very realistic for the enemy to send an entire army of corpses down the river, but for an spy to cross the border this way could be possible," Captain Rayden said. "Well, what is Dungreen's profession, his level?"

"I don't know. He forbade me to look with one of the first orders I received from him," I told her.

He had a whole list of orders ready when I appeared in the cellar. It was just routine for him, just another test subject.

The captain nodded. "I thought so. What about his companions? Someone you saw?"

"If he was in contact with anyone, it wasn't in the cellar," I said

Other questions followed, but unfortunately, I was not able to answer most of them. Despite being locked up in the cellar with other slaves for months and in the presence of that madman, I didn't know much. He was a proper lunatic, but he wasn't stupid. The other people he dragged into the dungeon were from all corners of Arda. All the newcomers were drugged and had no idea in which city they were. The only information I had was the name of the river to which the sewers led. The cellar couldn't be far from here because the river could be heard from the sewers.

"Anything else?" The captain asked me again. "Please try to remember, even a small thing will suffice."

It was hard for me to remember the place of my suffering, but I tried.

"Hmm… I saw a letter on his desk once," I told her, trying to remember more. "I don't know what was in it or who it was from, but I remember the wax seal that was on it."

Captain Rayden immediately handed me a piece of paper and a pencil. "Please draw it for me."

I tried my best. It's incredible how one atrophies when you're not using something. My wrist was stiff, and my hand wasn't listening to my commands as I thought it would. Fortunately, the seal was not so complicated. Two crossed roses. Captain Tayden took my creation from me, inspected it, and placed it among the other notes.

"The last thing we have left is'," she said, placing the device I was familiar with on the table. "Your identification. This is the Identification Station. It's an invasion of privacy, but if you want to get an ID card, you have to put your hands on it."

"Why isn't the tablet enough?" I asked her.

"Because it's too weak, some abilities can fool it, and I won't let a threat into my city," Rayden said in a casual tone.

"I'm just asking," I said quickly. "That bastard used the same magic tool, I mean the station."

Captain Rayden immediately leaned toward me. "Interesting because it is not a commonly available tool. What else did he use?"

So instead of identifying, I started naming her magical tools that I saw in the cellar. I also added the non-magical ones, which I found interesting.

"Please," the captain pointed to the station as I listed everything I could think of.

I would compare the Identification Station to the size of a computer keyboard. The same blackboard was covered with runes as a Tablet, but two places were marked on it for hands and a crystal embedded in the middle.

I took a deep breath and put both hands on the station. The runes lit up, and the status screen appeared between the two of us.

Name: Korra Grey

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Age: 29

Class: Slave

Level: 92

Constitution: 39

Strength: 21

Endurance: 25

Dexterity: 23

Intelligence: 11

Wisdom: 10

Class skills:

Indomitable Will: lvl 108

Faint Presence: lvl 29

Lover of Work: lvl 8

Master's Toy: lvl 72

Silent Suffering: lvl 91

Odorless Odor: lvl 88

General skills:

Eleaden Standard Language: lvl 9

Flight: lvl 1

Nerve Poison: lvl 6

Night Vision: lvl 18

Good Hearing: lvl 23

Unnatural Regeneration: lvl 36

Lioness Strength: lvl 4

Poison Resistance: lvl 3

So that was it, my status in all its glory. According to the system, still human. A woman in her late twenties who became a slave here. My stats were quite focused on the constitution, or rather my health, vitality. This was Dungreen's job. He told me how to spend every point I earned.

My initial stats were not impressive at all. The highest-rated was the constitution and intelligence, both stats with 8 points. The worst was the strength, rated by only four points. Yeah, I had self-defense lessons, but I wasn't a very athletic person. It hardly mattered now.

My stats were what they were, and I couldn't change that.

Six class skills spoke for themselves. It was a combination of what the madman demanded of me. Not to collapse, not to be seen, a little strength, to listen to him, to be quiet and not to stink. Really nice list.

Everyone could acquire general skills, and there were eight of them. The first one I got was Eleaden Standart Language. I got it when he put a slave collar on me. Thanks to that, I understood everyone and was able to speak the local language. The rest of the skills were the result of experiments and mutations on my body. Flight, for example, was a completely useless skill. Even though I had wings, I couldn't fly and therefore, couldn't train this skill.

As I said, I had a lot of skills that I wanted to change.

"This is a real mess," Captain Rayden commented on my status.

"…" I could do nothing but nod quietly. She was right.

"Well, that's enough for me. I don't see a problem in giving you an ID," said Rayden, indicating that I could take my hands off.

I nodded and removed my hands from the Identification Station. The status screen disappeared, the runes stopped shining, and the captain cleaned up the station. She made a few more notes before packing everything on the table. She got up from the table so suddenly that it scared me.

"Follow me,"

I obeyed her, but keeping up with her was difficult. She was incredibly fast, even though she was only walking. Her target was Travis, her assistant I had already met.

"Travis, give her an ID. She's okay, standard procedure," she told him, handing him some form.

"Yes, ma'am," the man said, saluting.

Captain Rayden looked at me and smiled for the first time. "Miss Grey, welcome to Castiana."

"Wait," I called Captain Rayden. "What, are you going to do about…him?"

"I'll write a report to my superiors. It's up to them how they evaluate the information you gave us. The name Frederic Dungreen is not unknown to the Sahal. Unfortunately, he doesn't move in our territory," the captain told me.

"But…" I tried to object.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do more, miss Grey. I'm sorry about what happened to you and what you had to go through. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, you didn't deserve it, but that's life. My job is to keep Castiana safe. I can't do more than inform my superiors," Rayden said.

Her tone was stern but without anger.

I sighed. "I understand."

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I should have been somewhere else fifteen minutes ago. Have a nice day," she said.

As she walked away, the aura she emitted disappeared with her. The peace of mind I had in her presence faded, and without it, my worries muffled only by my skill returned. I began to breathe hard, which the captain's assistant noticed.

"Please sit down," he pointed to three chairs by the wall. "Captains skill has such an effect on many people."

"So it was a skill," I muttered.

Assistant nodded. "It calms the guards when the city is under attack or someone like you."

"And that I told her everything, even what I didn't want to?" I asked with bitterness in my voice.

"It's a function of interrogation rooms," Trevis said.

So the whole room was magical too, like a giant lie detector. At least Travis explained it to me, and I didn't have to worry about it anymore.

I didn't want to stand and wait for him to process my ID card, so I came to the chairs the assistant had pointed at. I turned one around so that I could sit comfortably on it.

As it turned out, processing my ID required filling in several forms. For me, such work would be a small hell. I could handle it if I had to, but I would suffer. The idea of stacks of papers around me, waiting to be processed was horrifying. It wasn't a job for me. But Travis was in his element, or so it seemed to me.

"Miss Grey, could you....," Trevis said but stopped when he raised his head and looked at me.

He blushed, immediately turned his head to the side, clearing his throat.

"Um, miss, when you sit there like that, I can see everything," Travis said.

I looked down. The back of this chair was not made of one massive piece, but its lower part was formed only by partitions, slim sticks. At that instant, I blushed too. I did not realize that. Rayden hadn't said anything before, but she probably didn't see anything behind the table. But now I was not sitting directly at the table but in the room. Trevis could see my intimate parts through the partitions.

I immediately stood up, put the chair back in place, and tried to pretend that nothing had happened.

"What did you ask?" I asked.

"Yes, I need a drop of your blood to confirm the ID," he said, still red in the face.

He wasn't such a tough guy as he seemed at first. I thought he was an arrogant jerk who was above everyone else, except his superiors. I imagined him as a typical ass kisser.

Trevis pointed to a device on his desk. Another magical tool, apparently designed to create ID cards. Mine was already located in it. There was a clearly marked place to place my finger. I sensed that something would stab me in the finger as soon as I put my finger there. How else would they get a drop of my blood?

I put my thumb to the marked space.

"Tsss," I hissed in pain as the device stabbed my thumb.

Trevis smiled. "Great"

He took the ID out of the device and placed it on the table in front of me. Then he got up and started taking other things out of the cabinet behind him. In a moment, I was looking at the card, the ring, and the pouch with coins.

"What is all this?" I asked him, pointing to the objects.

"The standard package Castiana gives to refugees or slaves like you. ID, fifty silvers and a spatial ring the size of one cubic decimeter, so that you have a place to put it all in", he explained to me.

I stared at him with my mouth open. I had no idea how to react to this. It was great to get something, but I had no idea how much it was. I had no idea how much a loaf of bread cost in the city or a night at an inn. I never expected to get the spatial ring. I thought it was expensive, even though the size of the storage space of ten by ten by ten centimeters wasn't much, just enough for the bag, ID, with room for a few small things.

"How does the ring work?" I asked.

Travis sighed. "You put it on, use a drop of your blood and let your mana flow through it."

I squeezed my thumb, which already had a small wound, and as soon as my blood was on the ring, I let my mana flow through it. It was a trick that took me a long time to learn. Mana was something that people on Earth did not have in their bodies. It was something entirely unnatural for me back then. But now mana was a part of me.

When I sent mana into the ring, I immediately felt the little cube in the space that was mine. It was a strange feeling that disappeared when I stopped sending mana to the ring.

"How do I get those things in the ring?" I asked again.

"Just touch them and will them to move to the storage," Travis explained.

I touched an ID that appeared in a magically created space when I imagined a card there. The same thing happened to the whole pouch. I even felt how much space I had left in this magical storage.

"So that's all, miss Grey. Have a nice day. The door is over there. In the hallway to the right, then across the courtyard and you will be out of the barracks," Trevis said, pointing to the door leading from his office.

I stopped. "Wait, I don't know anything about this city."

"That's not my problem," he replied.

"Can't you at least tell me where to start? Where can I, I don't know… find a job, a roof over my head?" I asked him.

Trevis sighed. "City hall, ask at the city hall. Before you ask, it's at Imperial Square."

"Ok, thank you...how will I get there?"

I could see his frustration, but I had to ask him.

"On the street to the right, basically to the city center. So, on the street go straight on until you reach the square. That's it. Look for the biggest building there."

When I woke up on the banks of the Treim river soaked but free. I did not expect to find understanding and compassion in the people of Eleaden. These were rare traits to find even in people on Earth. Instead, I met Scoresby, a merchant who gave me food, took me to Castiana, and he didn't want anything in return. I didn't even thank him. Now I got money from the city to a new beginning, instead of a beating and being taken out of the city limits.

I didn't expect them to lead me by the hand, tell me exactly what to do. But it would have been nice.

I found the way out quickly, it wasn't tricky, and Travis didn't lie to me. Even found Imperial Square and city hall, which really was the most prominent building there, with the biggest sign.

I stood in front of it, unsure if I should really go to the city hall.

The number of people heading in and out of the Castiana City Hall was one of the reasons I was so hesitant to visit the building. I didn't feel good in their presence. Each of them could be a potential enemy. However, I was in the city, and these were usually full of people. I couldn't hesitate or run every time I met a person.

After taking a deep breath, I headed for the city hall.

It was incredibly noisy inside. My ears and more sensitive hearing may have been to blame, but the truth was that dozens of people, maybe hundreds, were talking to each other here. A vast room where there were three receptionists behind the counters on one side, on the other, there were boards with notices. Opposite the entrance was a staircase leading to the second floor.

I didn't hesitate and stood in one of the queues in front of the reception. New people were continually being added to them, so it was not worth standing in the middle of the hall while I admired its architecture. I could do that while standing in the queue.

Behind the long counter at the front desk was a man and two women. I chose one woman who, in my opinion, looked the least threatening. The receptionist was smaller than me, black hair, round face, dressed in a green-yellow uniform whose appearance was the same as the other receptionists.

I stood in the queue for a few minutes before it was my turn. I was nervous, sweating, and had no idea what to ask.

"Hello, do you want to register?" The receptionist asked me.

"Hello, um, I don't know? I just got an ID in the barracks…" I tried to explain to her.

"So, you're looking for work and lodging?" Asked receptionist.

I nodded. "Yes"

"On the opposite wall are all the job offers in the city. The notice boards are marked with letters according to the required level of skills, from the hardest marked A to the easiest marked F. The notice-board G jobs are mostly simple work that does not require specific skills," the receptionist explained to me.

"So if I choose something? What should I do?" I asked.

The woman smiled. "You will come to see one of my colleagues or me. Unfortunately, you will have to stand in the queue again. I will write down your selection and give you a note with that job offer. According to the information on the note, you will go to the place on it. Everything clear?"

"Yes, what is the normal salary?" I wondered.

"It depends on what you do. In the eight hours worked, the seamstress receives an average of one silver and twenty coppers. Jobs that require fewer skills, get less," said the receptionist.

"Of course," I nodded, just to ask another question. "… And accommodation? Will I find it on the bulletin board too?"

The woman shook her head. "You will have to find accommodation in the city yourself, or you can use the services of one of the guides."

"Guides?" I asked. Tourist guides?

"Mostly children who earn extra money and help their families. The city hall guarantees them. They are reliable, knowledgeable, and you don't have to worry about being robbed. If that happens, you can file a complaint with us, and the city hall will compensate you for your loss," said the receptionist.

I nodded. "How much is their service?"

"Ten coppers for every hour started," the woman said.

I had to clarify my priorities. Right now, they were to have a place to sleep, followed by something to eat. I needed money for that, which meant work. I had some money in the beginning, so the first in line was accommodation.

"What time do you close?" I asked her.

The receptionist grinned. "We are not closing, but only one of us is here overnight. You can come at any time."

"Wow. Well, I'd like to hire a guide," I said.

"Okay," she nodded, then shouted at the hall. "Timmy!!!"

Before I could get rid of the ringing in my ears, a little boy in a dirty dress stood next to me. He couldn't have been more than ten, but I had no idea if the beastmen were growing as fast as humans. The beastmens on Eleaden did not only have the ears and tails of animals. No, they were covered in hair, from head to toe, with snouts instead of noses and claws and pads on their hands and feet. Timmy was some kind of dog or wolf.

"Miss, this is Timmy. If you have a problem with his race, you will have to wait until one of the other guides returns. As I said, Castina City Hall is responsible for his services," the receptionist introduced my guide.

I shook my head. "No, that's not a problem. Should I pay now or after?"

"You will pay the guide after completing his work, according to the time worked. Your ID will be enough for me now. I will write it down in case there are problems," the woman said.

Problems? She probably thought if I decided not to pay. However, I did not intend to, so I took the ID card out of my magical storage and handed it to her. The spatial ring was a handy thing. I remembered my purse, which weighed a few kilos and contained an incredible mess. I wish it had a function like this ring. Just thinking of an object to appear in my hand would make my life on Earth much easier.

When the receptionist returned my ID card, I thanked her and went out with my guide. I longed to be somewhere with less noise.

"Where do you need to go, miss?" The little boy asked me.

"You're Timmy, aren't you? I'm Korra," I introduced myself to him as I squatted down next to him.

I was careful not to show him something he shouldn't see as Travis had seen.

"Nice to meet you, miss Korra," he smiled and shook my offered hand.

"You don't have to call my miss," I said.

Timmy shook his head. "City hall requires guides to be polite to their customers."

"All right, Timmy. So, I'm looking for some accommodation. I don't have much money, and I just need something really simple without cockroaches and spiders. Do you know where I could find something like that?" I asked him.

The boy looked at me thoughtfully." I know of one place but is on another side of the city."

"Very well, take me there," I told him.

Timmy immediately sprang forward. He led me unmistakably through the city while describing the individual places we passed: shops, workshops, and public buildings. The little wolf boy was a great guide. Our destination really was quite far, just a few blocks from the city wall.

At first glance, the Broken Mug inn had its best years behind it. It was a half-timbered house with a stone ground floor with a sign depicting a broken mug above the door. Timmy fearlessly entered the inn, which I would have avoided. If he wasn't afraid, I couldn't be scared either. I believed that the receptionist did not lie with the fact that the city hall was responsible for its guides.

Inside, on the first floor, was a real medieval pub. With half-occupied tables, between which ran a girl with a tray. The innkeeper was pouring beer behind the bar. He was a man smaller than me, bald, but with a big beard. He was also pretty round.

"Timmy," he called when he noticed the newcomers.

"Hello, Mr. Byron," the boy greeted him.

Innkeeper frowned. "I told you several times not to call me that."

"I'm at work," Timmy said proudly.

"Oh, so who did you bring here?" He asked, looking at me.

"Hello, my name is Grey. I am new in Castiana, and I am looking for accommodation. Something cheap, nothing fancy. Timmy led me to you," I explained.

"You're in the right place. This is not some fancy inn, but an inn for honest people. Innkeeper Byron," the man introduced himself.

However, he did not shake my hand because he continued to pour beer.

"I have a free room, sixty-two coppers per night—bed, table, chairs and wardrobe. Food is not included, but we offer breakfast, lunch, and dinner,"

I sighed. "You don't have anything cheaper? I don't need a wardrobe, I have nothing to put in it. I can't really sit on a chair, so I can do without it and the table."

Byron grinned. "Well, I tried. I have one room like that. It's a tiny room, just a bed, but there is noise from the Broken Heart at night. Twenty-nine coppers a night."

"Could I look at it first?" I asked him.

"Why not, Timmy, you know where it is. Here's the key," he said, handing the key to the boy.

He took the key from the innkeeper and smiled. "Come on, miss Grey."

To my surprise, we left the inn. However, not through the main entrance, but through the door on which the squatting figure was painted. We found ourselves in a small courtyard behind the inn. The space belonging to it was separated from the others by a brick wall. There was a mess, all overgrown with hedges and vines with three outhouses by the wall. The room was located in the gap between the inn and the next building. In that gap, narrower than two meters, was a small two-story extension.

The first floor was basically empty. Just a narrow long room with stairs to the second floor, where was the bed. That was all. The building itself was in poor condition, but it seemed clean. I didn't need more.

"What did the innkeeper mean by the noise? What is Broken Heart?" I asked Timmy.

"This building," he said, touching the wall of the other building that formed the gap with the inn.

"And the noise?" I asked again.

"The sounds of companions and the men who visit them," he explained, his innocence cute, not the reality itself.

It was a brothel. I wasn't sure if I wanted to listen to whores at work at night. On the other hand, I already wanted to have my room to feel safe, close myself off from the world, and sleep. I haven't slept in over 24 hours. It was my fault, but I couldn't change it now.

Tomorrow was also a day.

One night here won't kill me, right? Probably. Tomorrow I can go looking for a better room at a reasonable price as well as start looking for work. With a clear head, it will definitely go better.

My guide and I returned to the inn, where we found Mr. Byron where we left him.

He was glad I liked the room. How else. I paid the innkeeper, as well as Timmy. I promised him that if I needed a guide next time, I would tell him. I was satisfied with his services. After the innkeeper reminded me again that I could have food in his inn, I returned to my room.

My fears that I would not be able to fall asleep, due to the feeling of danger that threatened me from the others, did not come true. The room, the four enclosed walls, something I hadn't had in months, gave me a sense of security. I fell asleep in a few minutes.