《The Greatest Heretic》


 Chapter 1 — Fateful Day

    Morning began with the persistent ringing of the alarm clock, though Astar had no reason to wake up early. All the crucial steps toward his future freedom had nearly been completed: the business that had consumed his time and energy was practically sold. But the habit of controlling everything down to the smallest detail proved far stronger. Sunlight filtered through the half-closed blinds, painting golden streaks on the walls of the room. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbed his face, and looked into the mirror.


    In the reflection, he saw himself¡ªa tall, well-groomed young man with an athletic build. His bright blue eyes contrasted with his black hair, which was tied in a careless bun at the back of his head. That hair always attracted attention. In the light, it shimmered with a strange violet hue, leading many to believe he either dyed it or used some unusual products. But the truth was different: that shade had been there since birth, as if it were some mysterious genetic anomaly. This peculiarity lent him an air of mystery.


    He was just past twenty, yet something distant and heavy was already visible in his gaze. Years of relentless work, forced upon him since childhood, had left their mark in his eyes, his habits, and a fatigue that never faded, even after rest.


    It seemed that freedom¡ªthe very thing he had longed for¡ªwas finally at his doorstep. Today, the deal that would free him from the role of a full-time business manager would take place. He would remain a shareholder, live off dividends, and finally feel like the master of his own life.


    "Alright, Astar, time to get ready¡­" he muttered to himself, rising from the bed.


    "Funny," he thought as he began making the bed. "I worked so much, I forgot how to rest."


    Astar circled the bed, smoothing out the sheets, his thoughts drifting back to those long hours at the office, the sleepless nights spent strategizing, and the risks he had taken upon himself.


    "Perhaps it couldn¡¯t have been any other way," he mused. "I always loved competition, crushing my rivals. As a result, I earned myself a case of workaholism that snuffed out whatever fire was left in me. Maybe that¡¯s for the best¡­¡±


    All his life, he had believed that money meant freedom. That if he just accumulated enough, happiness would follow. And now, after countless setbacks¡ªbut also moments of great luck¡ªhis goal was almost within reach.


    He cast a quick glance at his phone, where a list of tasks reminded him of yet another string of meetings, despite this being his final day. Even now, he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that everything had to remain under control. But what annoyed him the most was something else entirely: the freedom he had fought so hard for still didn¡¯t feel real.


    "Maybe the problem is me¡­ It feels like I¡¯ve spent my whole life doing the wrong thing," the thought flickered through his mind. "No matter¡­ Once I sell the controlling stake, I¡¯ll invest the money in reliable assets. With my other savings and investments, I¡¯ll never have to work again. I¡¯ll finally have time to find my purpose. I was lucky to get rich while still young¡ªI need to hold on to that advantage for the sake of a peaceful future¡­"


    Astar sighed, gathered his thoughts, and headed for the kitchen. This day was supposed to be the start of a new life. Now, he would live for himself. But just as the thought crossed his mind, something strange began to stir in his consciousness¡ªa barely perceptible noise. Before long, the whispering grew into incoherent murmurs, the words foreign, like echoes of a distant choir.


    "Shar-daar, kudis lur¡­"


    Before Astar could make sense of it, a sharp pain pierced his head. It struck like lightning, stabbing through his temples and spreading across his skull. The world around him froze. His body felt numb, his arms hung limply at his sides, and his legs buckled beneath him. It lasted only a moment, but the intensity nearly knocked him off his feet.


    "What the¡­" he rasped, grabbing onto the countertop to keep from collapsing. The voices vanished as suddenly as they had appeared. The pain subsided, leaving only a faint throbbing in his temples. His body obeyed him once more, and after taking a few deep breaths, Astar smirked and reached for the elegant pitcher.


    "Didn¡¯t get enough sleep or what?" he muttered, pouring himself a glass of warm water. "What was the point of buying those overpriced mattresses and pillows if I still feel like crap in the morning? Ha-ha," he chuckled dryly, heading toward the bathroom.


    Astar lived alone and had long since gotten used to being his own conversation partner. The seriousness deeply ingrained in his character didn¡¯t stop him from finding ironic moments in everyday life. And his sharp tongue, even when aimed at himself, was no worse than that of a seasoned cynic.


    "Well, Astar," he said to his reflection in the mirror, washing away the remnants of sleep. "Just one more step, and you¡¯ll officially be a slacker. Congratulations, buddy. Now you¡¯ll have all the time in the world to¡­." He paused for a moment. "Do whatever you want. Take a vacation, get a dog, or¡­ even¡­" He narrowed his eyes. "Maybe I¡¯ll finally have time for a real relationship? With all the business dealings, I haven¡¯t even thought about sex¡­"


    "Though, not a huge loss. It¡¯s not like I ever had anything more than one-night stands anyway¡­" he muttered to himself, recalling his last few encounters.


    Astar smirked, turning toward the shower. This little morning monologue had become a sort of meditation for him. Living alone had always seemed convenient¡ªsilence, no obligations to anyone. But sometimes, he caught himself speaking aloud not just for the sake of amusement, but simply to break the eternal solitude. In those moments, even his own voice sounded unfamiliar.


    "Alright, we only live once," he said, turning on the shower. "Tonight, I need to celebrate properly. I didn¡¯t start grinding back in the orphanage for nothing. Speaking of which, I really should finally reply to James..."


    He exhaled thoughtfully as he stepped under the warm stream of water. Despite his cynical outlook, there was always a spark inside him¡ªan unquenchable feeling that something interesting could be waiting just around the corner. And though he kept telling himself that he wanted peace, deep inside, the old Astar still lurked¡ªthe one who thrived on competition, who loved the fight. That was the Astar who once pushed forward with everything he had, desperate to escape poverty and the harsh conditions of the orphanage.


    Astar finished his morning routine quickly. After showering, he applied his skincare, dried his hair, and neatly tied it into a bun at the back of his head.


    "A dog actually wouldn¡¯t be a bad idea..." he mused aloud, stepping out of the bathroom and heading to his wardrobe. "I¡¯d have to walk it, and who knows, maybe I¡¯d meet some gorgeous woman? I used to be good with women... Back when I actually had free time¡­" He laughed, buttoning his shirt and tightening his tie.


    Looking at himself in the massive mirror, he let out an odd chuckle before shaking his head.


    "No, the tie is definitely too much today. No need to give the impression that I¡¯m still in the game, ha-ha."


    Removing the accessory, he spun it between his fingers like a toy before casually tossing it aside¡ªsomething uncharacteristic for him. Today was supposed to be special. He could feel it, even through the faint noise in his head, which had begun to bother him slightly but still lingered only at the edges of his consciousness.


    "Damn, am I really about to start doing nothing? Thank you, Universe!" Astar grinned, as if convincing himself that this was exactly what he had always wanted.


    He quickly threw on a light jacket and shut the door behind him. His footsteps echoed softly in the empty corridor as he made his way to the elevator. His fingers pressed the underground parking button out of habit, and he leaned lazily against the wall, arms crossed.


    "You know, Astar, life has its jokes, but for us... we actually got a good shot," he said, looking at his reflection in the mirrored panel of the elevator. "So many guys from the orphanage just wanted to graduate high school, let alone own a nice apartment and a car. But you¡ªha, you¡­" He smirked, pausing in thought. "Luck played a big role, but I won¡¯t downplay my own achievements either."


    As he reflected, a predatory smile crept onto his face. Memories surfaced¡ªmoments when he outmaneuvered competitors, snatched valuable clients from their grasp, or lured away their most promising employees.


    The elevator glided downward with a smooth jolt, and Astar tilted his head back, sinking into recollection. He vividly remembered his first ¡°investment¡±¡ªspending the last of his savings, painstakingly earned through side jobs at the orphanage, on Bitcoin. Back then, it felt like nothing more than a gamble, but fate had smiled on him, granting him an enormous starting capital. Astar had always considered it the universe¡¯s compensation for the lousy parents who had abandoned him as an infant. No matter how he tried to think well of them, resentment and even anger always surfaced.


    Sometimes, he wondered who they were¡ªbut he always forced himself to stop. They had left him, and that meant they didn¡¯t matter.


    "I should probably give something back to the universe," he continued, stepping out of the elevator and heading toward his car. "Maybe support an orphan fund? Or... open a dog shelter? Not like I need this much money anyway¡ªI don¡¯t even know what I¡¯m going to do with myself..."


    His steps grew more confident as his gaze landed on his brand-new car. The glossy surface reflected the dim underground lights, as if beckoning him to take the wheel and revel in that feeling¡ªthe moment when all the effort, all the struggle, finally paid off. The sleek black body, the aerodynamic curves, the red brake calipers¡ªevery inch of the vehicle was a testament to his success.


    "Damn, you are a beauty," Astar smirked, addressing the car. "Not sure who¡¯s more impressive¡ªyou or me. Though, let¡¯s be real... it¡¯s me. You¡¯ve never had to hustle since childhood."


    Opening the door, he took a deep breath of the new leather scent, which seemed to whisper, ¡°You did everything right¡±. Settling in, he ran his hand along the steering wheel, feeling the smoothness of the material beneath his fingertips. He started the engine, and the low, powerful hum echoed through the parking lot.


    "Perfect sound," he said, fastening his seatbelt. "Alright, let¡¯s go. Today, your owner officially becomes a free man. Or at least pretends to, ha-ha."


    Speed, power, control¡ªthe car perfectly embodied everything he had pursued in life. Astar pulled out of the parking lot, merging into the city¡¯s flow, but the thoughts of just how lucky he had been still lingered in his mind.


    "I¡¯m grateful to you, fate," he murmured. "I don¡¯t know how many more chances you¡¯ll throw my way, but I¡¯ll take every single one. Just one request¡ªlet the next one be about my purpose, ha-ha."


    Astar smoothly turned onto the wide avenue of the metropolis, where the glass walls of skyscrapers caught the morning sun, scattering its light into thousands of dazzling reflections. His car blended seamlessly into the stream of high-end vehicles, matching them in elegance and presence. He glanced at the navigation screen, setting the route to one of the city¡¯s most prestigious buildings¡ªa towering business skyscraper, packed with corporate offices, including his own.


    "One last visit to the old walls," he muttered, pressing lightly on the gas. "I¡¯ll grab the files, sign the papers, and finally escape this rat race."


    Astar loved competition, but the corporate world had begun to consume him. The harder and more diligently he worked, the clearer it became¡ªthis wasn¡¯t what he was meant to do. It felt as if he were living a life that wasn¡¯t truly his.


    The traffic light turned green, and Astar confidently continued forward, taking in the streets passing by. The route was familiar, almost routine, but this time, he noticed every detail¡ªthe colorful caf¨¦ signs, the flashing billboards, the bright storefronts. In a way, all of it had become a part of his success. His company, like many others, had crafted the marketing strategies that breathed life into this city.


    "Marketing," he murmured with a thoughtful smile, "the art of convincing people to buy what they don¡¯t need¡­ Or sometimes, what they need more than they even realize."


    He let out a short chuckle, recalling the dozens of projects that had transformed his startup into a full-fledged company. In this world, being smart wasn¡¯t enough¡ªyou had to be a predator. He remembered the moments when he had to ruthlessly cut staff, shut down underperforming departments, or turn away promising but risky clients. It had hardened him, dulling his thirst for exploration and adventure.


    "No wonder I called you ''Labyrinth,''" he said, as if addressing his creation. "Business really is a labyrinth. One wrong move, and you¡¯re stuck¡ªor worse¡­ you lose everything."


    For a moment, Astar focused on the road, enjoying the smooth handling of his car. Deep down, he knew it wasn¡¯t just hard work and cold calculation that had brought him success. Luck had been his constant companion, ever since that very first investment in cryptocurrency. That was what had given him an unexpectedly large starting capital, allowing him to experiment with a few projects¡ªuntil the third one finally took off and started making serious money.


    "You think you¡¯re special, a genius? No, Astar, you just got lucky," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. "Then again¡­ luck without action and effort is worthless. I gave everything to make this work."


    Astar was well aware that he wasn¡¯t some brilliant marketer or a top-tier professional. But he had a talent for hiring the right people¡ªand, most importantly, for taking risks and making tough decisions.


    The sight of the skyscraper ahead made him sigh. Just a little longer, and he would be inside the headquarters¡ªthe building where every door held memories of challenges, late-night meetings, and strategic victories. Faces of employees who had started the journey with him flashed through his mind. Some had left, others had stayed. Did they feel the same loss of passion as he did? Or did they regret what they had to sacrifice for success?


    "I¡¯m probably no better myself," he muttered, turning on his blinker and pulling into the skyscraper¡¯s parking lot. "Cold, calculating¡­ but at least almost free."


    He parked in his usual spot and turned off the engine. The hum of the car faded, but the echoes of his thoughts still lingered in his head. Today might just be the most important day of his life.


    Astar had just reached for the door handle when his phone screen lit up with an incoming call. For a moment, he frowned, but when he saw the familiar name, he couldn¡¯t help but smirk.


    "James," he murmured, answering the call. "Is this important? I¡¯m a little busy."


    "Astaaar-os!" came a lively voice on the other end, drawing out his name in a teasing tone. "What, you¡¯re too important to pick up calls from your only friend now? Or have you gotten so big that you¡¯ve forgotten your roots? You¡¯ve been ignoring me for a whole month!"


    Astar rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.


    "I told you not to call me that," he said, irritation creeping into his voice, though he kept it controlled.


    "But why?" James continued in a mock-innocent tone. "That is your full name, after all. Remember? ''Astaros''¡ªthat¡¯s what was written on the note when they found you and dumped you at that shitty orphanage. You should be proud, man! It¡¯s such a unique name!"


    "Unique?" Astar¡¯s grip on the phone tightened slightly. "It sounds ridiculous, James. I¡¯ve been trying to forget it, and you keep bringing it up."


    "Oh, come on," James was clearly enjoying this. "Not my fault you¡¯re so touchy. And honestly, if you think about it, Astaros sounds badass! I¡¯m pretty sure I heard something similar in a video game once."


    "Exactly," Astar muttered, stepping out of the car and slamming the door behind him. His voice dropped slightly, laced with mild irritation. "Apparently, my damn parents not only threw me away like trash but also decided to mock me on the way out."


    "Sorry, man," James¡¯s tone softened, though there was still a hint of playful irony. "Didn¡¯t mean to hit a nerve. I know this has always pissed you off. I just wanted to remind you¡ªyou built yourself from the ground up. Your worthless parents didn¡¯t manage to ruin your life, not even with their genes."


    Astar stopped in front of the elevator, staring at the metal doors before him. He wanted to fire back with something sharp, but then he laughed.


    "You''ve been watching philosophy videos again, haven''t you?" he said after a pause. "That really doesn¡¯t suit you. Cut it out."


    "I know, I know. Too pretentious for our esteemed marketing guru," James interrupted cheerfully. "Anyway, how are you feeling? Ready to finally part with your creation? I assume you¡¯ve been ignoring my calls because you¡¯ve been deep in preparation for this big day?"


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    "I''m ready," Astar replied curtly, looking at his reflection in the polished elevator surface. "But it''s harder than I thought..."


    "Of course it¡¯s harder," James¡¯ voice carried an air of certainty. "You built this company like a fortress. You were both the architect and the lead stonemason. But, Astar, if you don¡¯t let it go, you¡¯ll just end up sitting inside that fortress until the walls start crumbling on their own. All these years, you¡¯ve only had one-night stands, and the only friend you¡¯ve got is me. It¡¯s time to start living, not just working."


    Astar smirked, pressing the elevator button.


    "Should I be thanking you or the ancient philosophers whose wisdom you binge on the internet? Maybe you should start a business giving out free advice?"


    "Maybe I will¡ªif you invest in my startup, ha-ha," James shot back. "Alright, good luck in there. And remember, tonight you owe me a drink! I won¡¯t let you celebrate alone!"


    "I know, James. Thanks," Astar said quietly, just before the call ended.


    The elevator doors slid open, and he stepped inside, bracing himself for his last visit to the office that had once been his entire world.


    As the doors closed behind him, he was left alone in the quiet space, a solitude he had always found oddly pleasant in these brief moments between floors. The gentle hum of the elevator filled the cabin, and his gaze lingered on his reflection in the polished metal panels.


    "So, the big day has come," he murmured, rolling his shoulders. "Sign everything, hand it over¡­ and start living for myself. Sounds great, but it still feels heavy."


    The elevator glided smoothly past another floor¡ªthen suddenly, something happened.


    A sharp pain stabbed through his temples, so sudden and intense that he winced, staggering back and catching himself against the wall.


    "Shit¡­" he exhaled, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. The pain vanished as abruptly as it had come, but something else followed¡ªa faint, barely perceptible sound, almost like words.


    "Shar-daar, kudis lur¡­"


    They seemed to drift from a great distance, as if someone were speaking inside his head. The language was foreign, something Astar had never heard before, but it was unmistakably structured, undeniably real.


    "What the¡­" he started, but fell silent, shaken by the sensation.


    The voices faded, leaving behind only the dull hum of the elevator and the heavy pounding of his own heartbeat.


    Astar straightened, pulling his hand away from the wall, and tried to laugh it off¡ªto break the strange tension curling around him.


    "Great," he said to himself, forcing a casual tone. "That would be the joke of the year. A businessman at the peak of his career having his grand debut into schizophrenia. Perfect stand-up material, don¡¯t you think?"


    He let out a short laugh, but even he could hear the hollowness in it. Shaking his head, he ran a hand over the back of his neck, as if trying to wipe away the unsettling memory.


    "No, no, you¡¯re just overworked, Astar," he muttered, staring at his reflection. "No schizophrenia. Just accumulated stress¡­ and maybe not the best sleep schedule."


    "This is a sign that I need to wrap everything up as soon as possible¡­" he thought.


    The elevator slowed, and the doors slid open, revealing a long corridor leading to his office. He hesitated for a few seconds before stepping out. The voices hadn¡¯t returned, but a faint tension still lingered in his mind, like the aftertaste of something unsettling.


    Astar strode into the corridor, the cool air from the ventilation system brushing against his skin. Sunlight streamed through the massive glass panels, filling the space with a soft glow. The modern, stylish office reflected every facet of his success.


    Beyond the glass partitions, employees sat at their monitors¡ªsome focused on their tasks, others engaged in animated discussions, gesturing emphatically. As soon as they noticed him, conversations quieted, replaced by polite smiles. Some stood to give him a respectful nod, while others waved in greeting.


    "Good morning, Mr. Arden!" a young woman in a sharp business suit said as she passed by with a bright smile.


    "Morning," he replied with a composed nod, curving his lips into a light, approachable smile.


    He had taken this surname after leaving the orphanage¡ªmore accurately, it had been assigned to him by the state. Astar had always preferred to be addressed by his first name, but in the corporate setting, he didn¡¯t mind the formality.


    He had barely taken a few more steps when a middle-aged man in an expensive suit emerged from around the corner. He stopped, bowed slightly, and said with deliberate politeness:


    ¡°We will miss you, Mr. Arden. You were the best leader I¡¯ve ever worked with.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Klein. I will miss you too,¡± Astar replied in a soft, friendly tone¡ªone that could fool just about anyone.


    But in his mind, the words sounded different.


    "Miss me? Do you even believe that yourself? We¡¯re all here for the money¡­ And if you dig deep enough, we¡¯re all chasing the same thing¡ªfreedom. Money is just the tool. This politeness¡­ It¡¯s just a game, and everyone in this building knows the rules. And we both know I wasn¡¯t the best leader. I was good for the company, but not always good for the people."


    He continued down the corridor, pausing occasionally to return another warm farewell or acknowledge a compliment.


    ¡°You were an inspiration to all of us, Mr. Arden,¡± one of the employees said, stopping him mid-step.


    ¡°Glad to hear that having such a young boss didn¡¯t bother you,¡± he replied, adding a touch of self-deprecating humor. Then, with a note of praise, he added, ¡°I¡¯m sure you have a bright future ahead of you!¡±


    "A bright future? Only if you can handle sleepless nights and constantly choose between your career and your life. Otherwise, you¡¯ll burn out like most¡­ Harsh competition demands the right kind of character."


    His smile remained perfectly in place, a mask he had worn for years. It didn¡¯t take much effort¡ªthese people were his team, even if only temporarily. But the sheer artificiality of the moment made him feel almost physically sick.


    It wasn¡¯t that he didn¡¯t like them. On the contrary, many of them were genuinely pleasant. But Astar was exhausted¡ªnot just physically, but mentally, drained by the very nature of it all. The fire that had once driven him to achieve was gone. So was his passion for marketing.


    After selling the company, he didn¡¯t plan to indulge in luxury or excess. He simply wanted a quiet, stable, and secure life. But above all¡ªa free one. He already had a spacious apartment, a good car. His investments in cryptocurrency and stocks meant he wouldn¡¯t have to work ever again, even after taxes. All that remained was to find himself¡ªa luxury that had never been available to him since birth.


    "We¡¯re all here for the money. They flatter me because they know I¡¯m leaving behind a successful brand. They¡¯re hoping the new owner will be as competent as I was¡ªor better. This is just business etiquette, hypocrisy in its most refined form. It¡¯s a shame we all have to smile and play along."


    "I wonder¡­ is this a flaw in people, or in the system itself? Everyone dislikes this way of doing things, yet ironically, it works. Even this fake corporate culture somehow boosts a company¡¯s revenue¡­" he mused, recalling the countless consultants he had once hired to craft a unique workplace culture.


    Reaching his office door, Astar hesitated for a moment. He glanced back, taking in the bright corridor one last time¡ªthe glass walls, the smiling faces. Then, with his usual polished smile, he placed his hand firmly on the door handle.


    With a quiet click, he stepped inside, and it was as if a switch flipped. Instantly, he shifted into work mode, focusing entirely on the task at hand.


    The day flew by so fast that Astar barely noticed the clock hands jumping from morning to noon, then creeping toward evening. He had only just poured himself a cup of coffee when the partners arrived¡ªthe very people with whom he would finalize the deal.


    The conversation was brief and businesslike. He had been through meetings like this dozens, if not hundreds, of times in his career. Everything followed the usual script: greetings, a quick review of key terms, then the customary exchange of pens for the signing. The papers lay spread out before him, their crisp pages rustling in a way that felt almost meditative.


    The final stroke of his pen, the last signature¡ªand it was done.


    He was no longer the owner.


    Astar leaned back in his chair, watching as the partners smiled and nodded, each eager to express their gratitude.


    ¡°You¡¯re leaving behind a true legacy, Mr. Arden. A small startup growing into something of this scale¡ªit¡¯s all thanks to your leadership.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll do everything we can to continue your vision and strengthen the brand even further,¡± another added.


    Astar returned their words with a restrained smile and the usual polite phrases: "I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll do great." But inside, there was only emptiness¡ªan odd, unplaceable void.


    When all the formalities were finally over, the partners left, and for the first time, he was alone.


    Scanning the office, Astar stood up and slowly began packing his things. Into his bag went a few framed photographs, a couple of personal notebooks, and a handful of souvenirs. He didn¡¯t need much¡ªmost of the memories were already in his head.


    Finally, he closed his briefcase, picked it up, and stepped toward the door. The moment he exited his office, the entire floor erupted in loud applause. Employees, gathered in two rows, smiled, clapped, and called out:


    "Thank you, Mr. Arden! We¡¯re going to miss you!"


    "Good luck! Can¡¯t wait to see what projects you take on next!"


    "You¡¯ll always be an inspiration to us!"


    He smiled, responding to each of them, offering words of gratitude, nodding in acknowledgment of their excited voices.


    But inside, it all felt foreign.


    "Applause, cheers¡­ How much of it is genuine? Most of them are probably just relieved to have a new boss. Some might truly be grateful. I don¡¯t have the energy to analyze it anymore¡­ At least I¡¯m no longer part of this show¡­"


    He didn¡¯t finish the thought. Instead, he simply took a deep breath and kept walking toward the exit, accompanied by the fading noise of well-wishes and appreciation.


    The moment he stepped outside, the office buzz was replaced by the hum of the city. Streetlights had begun to flicker on, and the soft twilight wrapped around the metropolis.


    Astar paused for a moment, glancing back at the building where he had spent the last few years of his life. Despite the faint sadness weighing on his chest, he felt an odd sense of calm.


    "So, that¡¯s it," he murmured to himself, then smiled. "Time to start living¡ªbecause I¡¯m finally free."


    He slid into his car and started the engine, listening to the familiar hum that always soothed him. Tossing his briefcase onto the passenger seat, he checked the time on his phone and immediately opened his messages.


    "James, I got held up a little. You still at the pub?" he muttered, recording a voice message.


    The reply came almost instantly.


    "Of course. Where else would I be? Waiting for you¡ªour freshly minted free man!"


    Astar smirked, set his phone into the holder, and pulled onto the road.


    The pub in question was called Wunderbar, and it was far from the most prestigious place in the city. Tucked away on the outskirts, with wooden tables bearing the marks of time and dim, warm lighting, it was still perfect in his eyes. It was noisy yet cozy, and, most importantly, no one there played the endless game of trying to appear better than they were.


    His car glided smoothly through the city¡¯s evening streets. The glow of digital billboards danced across the glass facades of towering buildings, while crowds of pedestrians wove along the sidewalks. Astar watched it all with a quiet detachment.


    "So, am I one of those people now¡ªjust enjoying life?" he mused aloud. "Guess I just need to figure out what actually makes me happy¡­"


    The road to the pub was familiar. He had driven it countless times with James when they were younger, discussing everything from startup ideas to which TV series was the best.


    "A place with a free atmosphere," Astar muttered, recalling the time James had laughed and said, "This place smells like freedom, beer, and beautiful women."


    As he pulled up in front of the familiar sign, a subtle warmth flickered in his chest.


    Stepping inside, he was greeted by the familiar scent¡ªwood, malt, and something spicy, likely from the kitchen.


    In the far corner, at their usual table, James was already deep in conversation with two women. Tall, with green eyes and dark hair, James had always had a natural charm that drew women in. The moment he spotted Astar, he raised a hand and grinned widely.


    "So, our great Astar¡ªofficially a free man now?" he called out, sliding a chair back for him.


    "You mean unemployed?" Astar joked as he sat down.


    "No, no, free," James corrected with a smirk. "Here. This is for you." He pushed a pint of beer toward him. "To the next chapter of your life. So, tell me¡ªhow was it?"


    Astar picked up the glass but instead of answering, he turned to the two women with a charming smile, deliberately ignoring his friend.


    "How about you introduce me to these lovely ladies first?" he said smoothly. "Who knows¡ªmaybe tonight, I¡¯ll find love along with my newfound freedom." He laughed playfully and gave them a flirtatious wink.


    Though Astar had never been in a serious relationship¡ªalways too busy¡ªhe had, much like James, been effortlessly good with women. Before work had consumed his life, they had often gone out and met new people together.


    James burst into laughter, clapping Astar on the shoulder.


    "Well, ladies, you heard him! My friend is officially a free man, and he¡¯s got some open positions in his life!" He raised his pint in a mock toast.


    The women laughed, exchanging amused glances before one of them, a brunette with deep brown eyes, leaned in slightly closer.


    "So, you¡¯re the famous Astar we¡¯ve heard all about?"


    "And what exactly did this jester tell you about me?" Astar replied with a smile, nodding toward James.


    "That you''re rich, successful, free, and maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªa little humble," she smirked.


    "But we¡¯re still not entirely convinced about that last part," the other one, a blonde with adorable freckles, added playfully, making them all laugh again.


    The night took on new colors. The drinks kept flowing, jokes flew freely, and the conversations grew more lively. Astar, as if shedding the weight of his burdens, laughed, joked, and flirted. The relaxed atmosphere of the pub allowed him, even if just for a moment, to forget all his worries.


    From time to time, the headache and those strange voices returned, but Astar ignored them, drowning them out with more drinks.


    By midnight, James had disappeared somewhere with one of the women, leaving Astar alone at the table with the brunette. She was sharp, intriguing, and her infectious laughter awakened something long-forgotten in him.


    "I can walk you home if you¡¯d like," she offered, tilting her head slightly, her deep brown eyes studying him.


    Astar smiled but shook his head.


    "You¡¯re wonderful, but tonight, I need to be alone. It¡¯s been¡­ a strange day. Too much going on, too many emotions, and this damn headache won¡¯t go away. Let¡¯s meet tomorrow? I¡¯m sure we can find something more romantic than this pub for a proper date."


    She furrowed her brows slightly but then nodded with an understanding smile.


    "Alright. But don¡¯t forget to text me, or I¡¯ll assume you ran away."


    "I won¡¯t run, I promise," he said, standing up and walking her to the exit.


    He waited until she got into a taxi before ordering a driver for himself. He was drunk and had no intention of getting behind the wheel. He was finally free¡ªhe wasn¡¯t about to ruin that with some stupid accident.


    Inside, he felt a strange mixture of exhaustion and peace, as if this night marked the beginning of something new.


    The ride home was quick. His apartment, in a prestigious part of the city, greeted him with spacious, minimalist interiors wrapped in silence, broken only by the soft hum of the air conditioner.


    He headed straight for the shower, eager to wash away the weariness of the day and the lingering scent of the pub. The warm water relaxed him, and for a moment, he felt entirely disconnected from everything.


    After drying himself off with a plush white towel, he changed into fresh pajamas¡ªwhite, soft, almost brand-new. He had always liked the feeling of clean clothes after a shower, as if they symbolized a fresh start.


    Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, he applied his night cream in slow, familiar motions, smoothing it over his face.


    "Tomorrow, I¡¯ll wake up a new man," he murmured, meeting his own gaze. "No stress, no endless grind¡­ I¡¯ve finally earned what I always wanted¡ªfreedom. Kha-ha¡­" He chuckled, still under the light haze of alcohol.


    But then¡ªsomething changed.


    Like a lightning strike, a searing pain shot through his temples. Astar gasped, gripping the sink to keep himself from falling.


    "Kgh! Damn it¡­" he hissed through clenched teeth, breathing heavily.


    And then it happened again.


    The strange voices¡ªno longer whispers, no longer distant¡ªspoke clearly, loudly, as if someone was right beside him, speaking in a language he didn¡¯t understand.


    "Karahart¡­ Shardur¡­"


    His head spun violently, as if he had been thrown onto a carousel spinning out of control. A wave of weakness crashed over him, and for a moment, he thought he would black out.


    "What the hell?!" he shouted, staring at his reflection in the mirror¡ªonly to freeze in horror.


    His body was glowing.


    It wasn¡¯t just the voices¡ªit was a full-blown hallucination.


    Panic surged through him. His trembling fingers reached for his phone, lying on the shelf next to the sink. He barely managed to unlock the screen.


    "James¡­" he exhaled, scrolling through his contacts. "You always say you know everything¡­ Then tell me¡ªwhat the hell is this?!"


    But before he could press the call button, everything stopped.


    The voices vanished. The pain disappeared, leaving behind only a crushing weight in his skull.


    Astar slumped onto the edge of the bathtub, still gripping his phone, the call to James never initiated.


    "It¡¯s just exhaustion," he tried to convince himself, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a slow, deep breath. "No¡­ I need to call emergency services. I need to¡ª Damn it!"


    But he never got the chance.


    A dense fog clouded his vision, his surroundings blurring into indistinct shapes. His body felt distant, unresponsive. Sounds faded, colors dulled, and the world around him sank into an eerie darkness.


    "No¡­ not this¡­" he whispered, feeling the last of his strength slip away.


    His hand, still clutching the phone, slid off his knee. His gaze remained fixed on the screen¡ªon the name James, still glowing softly in the dim room.


    "The biggest joke of my life," the thought flickered in his mind. "Today, of all days¡ªwhen I¡¯m finally free..."


    He tried to fight it, tried to hold on to reality, but the darkness consumed him, dragging him down like an unstoppable current. A short, almost bitter chuckle escaped his throat.


    "And what was the point¡­? Did I waste my life after all?" he murmured, just before everything was swallowed by utter silence.


    The darkness enveloped his mind, erasing the glow of the bathroom lights, the hum of the air conditioner, and the faint scent of night cream. But in this soundless void, there was no end¡ªjust an abyss stretching infinitely in all directions.


    Then, deep within his consciousness, something flared¡ªa tiny spark, bright yet cold.


    The voices that had once been distant whispers now surged back with unbearable force, as if screaming directly into his ears. He felt a strange, unsettling sensation at the center of his forehead, as though something was shifting, awakening.


    Something terrifying and incomprehensible was about to happen!


    But in the very last moment¡ªby some inexplicable force¡ªhe suddenly understood the meaning of the final phrase he heard¡­


    And it said:


    "The power of the Multiversal Book of Memoria has run out. You can no longer remain safe¡­ Forgive us, my son. We hope you will uncover the truth about¡ª"


    The sentence cut off abruptly.


    And so did Astar¡¯s consciousness.

 Chapter 2 — Where Am I?

    Ghaah! Astar suddenly gasped sharply, as if he had been yanked out of the water after a long submersion. His chest rose in spasms, his lungs burned as if he had just run a marathon. He flung his eyes open in shock, frantically looking around, but saw nothing. Around him was absolute, impenetrable darkness.


    "I¡¯m alive! I¡¯m still alive!"


    That thought flared up first, like a spark of hope. His heart pounded wildly, his mind, stunned, struggled to grasp what had just happened. A wave of relief washed over him¡ªthe sheer joy of realizing he was still breathing, that his body responded, that this was not the end.


    But the relief did not last long. The weight of reality, or whatever this was, crashed down on him again.


    "Where am I?!"


    The darkness was thick, like a black veil covering everything around him. Beneath his feet, he felt a cold, damp, uneven stone floor, and behind him¡ªa wall. Quickly patting himself down, he realized he was still wearing his pajamas.


    The next moment, a stench so foul hit his nostrils that it nearly doubled him over. It was so overpowering it felt like it seeped into his lungs, leaving behind a putrid residue. A revolting mixture of human sweat, pus, urine, and something else¡ªsomething far worse.


    "Shit¡­ Bugh!" he groaned, grimacing and pinching his nose in an attempt to keep from gagging.


    But even with his nostrils clamped shut, the stench was so intense it made his stomach churn. For a moment, he clenched his teeth to suppress the urge to retch, but his body trembled from the effort.


    And then, suddenly, he heard something.


    In the absolute silence that had enveloped him before, faint sounds emerged. A cough. A rustle. A whisper that echoed, as if from somewhere distant.


    Astar strained his ears, trying to catch anything comprehensible, but the murmurs were chaotic, unintelligible.


    "What¡¯s going on? What is this place?!"


    A sudden realization pierced his mind, and a cold sweat ran down his spine.


    "I¡¯ve been kidnapped?!"


    His brain instantly began piecing together theories.


    "Someone must¡¯ve found out about the deal. Thought I was an easy target. Damn it, they must have been watching me¡­ It was too easy for them. Wanted to shake me down for money, but looks like they overdid it with the drugs!"


    He clenched his fists, trying to maintain composure.


    "Alright. Stay calm, Astar. First, figure out where you are. Then wait for a chance to get out. Step one: find out what¡¯s happening here."


    "Hey!" he called out, forcing his voice through the scratchiness in his throat caused by the rancid air. His voice echoed dully off the walls. "Who¡¯s there? What do you want?!"


    No answer. Only the coughing grew louder, and from somewhere to the side came a sharp noise¡ªmetal scraping against stone.


    A minute passed. Then another¡­


    Astar listened intently, waiting for any response, but instead, he was surrounded by that eerie cacophony¡ªcoughing, whispers, sounds of movement, as if someone was dragging something heavy.


    His eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. Gradually, he began to make out shapes around him: rough stone walls riddled with cracks, a wet, slimy floor. He realized he was sitting with his back against a cold wall. Around him, vague silhouettes flickered¡ªmany silhouettes.


    The only light that managed to pierce this wretched place came from above, through a small opening in the ceiling. The beam was dim, as if moonlight barely reached into the depths of this dungeon. Astar strained his vision, trying to make out the figures whispering and coughing nearby.


    "Hey!" he called out again, struggling to keep the tremor out of his voice. "Who are you? Where am I, and what do you want from me?!"


    This time, he got a response. But the words he heard were completely foreign, as if someone was speaking in an unknown language. It was a hoarse, low voice, and it sounded frighteningly close.


    "Karshak¡­ draha¡­ mkhar¡­"


    Astar froze, trying to make sense of the words, but he couldn¡¯t even guess their meaning.


    "What? What did you say?!" he shouted, but no further reply came.


    Only then did he realize that the figures around him looked just as much like prisoners as he did. But something about it was deeply strange. They didn¡¯t seem like wealthy captives¡­ If anything, they looked like vagrants¡ªpeople who hadn¡¯t seen soap or hot water in years.


    "What the hell is going on here?!" Astar cursed inwardly, forcing himself to stay calm.


    Time dragged on painfully, until something strange began to happen. Faint orange flickers appeared on the ceiling¡ªthe first rays of dawn filtering through the opening. The room slowly filled with warm light, revealing everything that had been shrouded in darkness.


    And what Astar saw made his stomach turn.


    More than two dozen figures sat on the stone floor. Their bodies were emaciated, their faces caked in grime, their clothes hanging in tattered shreds. Some clutched their knees, others lay motionless, barely breathing. Their eyes stared into emptiness, void of hope, void of emotion. The place itself resembled a medieval dungeon, with iron bars in place of one of the walls.


    But the most terrifying thing was that among them were creatures that simply could not exist. These were definitely not humans!


    "What the hell?!" he cursed, instinctively scrambling backward in fear, only to accidentally bump into a filthy man whose face was covered in scars. The man shot him a cold, harsh look and shoved him away.


    In one of the corners sat a creature that resembled an anthropomorphic lizard, draped in the same tattered gray garments. Beside it was a hunched figure that looked like¡­ a twisted skeleton. But it wasn¡¯t a "bare" human skeleton¡ªalongside its bones, it had something resembling flesh. Or rather, it was a being whose "muscles" were made of interwoven bone plates and ridges, tightly fused together. Its skull had sharp angles and protrusions, and in its eye sockets, two red embers burned. And the worst part¡ªit was breathing.


    Astar swallowed hard, his breathing turning fast and shallow.


    "What the hell¡­ Have I lost my mind?!" he muttered, trying to make sense of it all.


    But the brutal realism of the situation¡ªand the fact that he was still in his pajamas¡ªtold him otherwise. It really looked like he had been kidnapped. But if that was the case, then what were these terrifying creatures doing here with him?!


    Before Astar could even begin to process it, footsteps echoed in the distance. Slow, deliberate, heavy, with a metallic clank¡ªsomeone was walking across the stone floor in heavy boots. The sound grew closer, growing clearer, and was soon joined by another¡ªa rhythmic jingling of iron keys clashing together.


    "Who is that?" Astar whispered, trying to remain still, but his heart pounded violently in his chest.


    Moments later, someone stepped up to the cage, immediately drawing all attention. It was a tall guard, dressed like a medieval warrior. His black metal armor looked crude, and a sheathed sword hung at his waist. But what shocked Astar most wasn¡¯t the armor.


    The guard wasn¡¯t human either.


    His skin was a dark crimson shade, nearly blending into the surrounding gloom. Two straight horns jutted from his forehead, looking as if they had been ripped from a goat. His irises were blood-red, and though his gaze wasn¡¯t directed at Astar, it sent a shiver of raw terror through him.


    "Karshak t¡¯vara," the guard spoke in the same unfamiliar language, scanning the cell¡¯s occupants with a look of distaste. His voice was deep, resonant, as if it rumbled up from the very earth itself.


    He unlocked the iron-barred door with a long key that hung from his belt. The door groaned open with a harsh screech, and the being stepped inside, scrutinizing the prisoners. Then, with a sharp motion of his hand, he uttered a few more words.


    All who could still move began to rise. Some slowly, with groans and ragged breaths, others faster, their eyes filled with fear. It was clear they knew what would happen if they didn¡¯t comply. Even the monstrous creatures among them stood, not showing the slightest hint of resistance.


    Astar sat motionless, his thoughts racing like a caged animal.


    "Now is not the time to panic. Stay calm. Panic will only make things worse."


    He clenched his teeth and forced himself to stand. His body was slightly numb after hours of sitting on the cold stone floor, but he gathered what strength he had left and moved along with the others, trying not to draw attention to himself.


    The guard swept an indifferent gaze over them, muttered something under his breath, and the prisoners obediently began shuffling toward the exit of the cell. Astar stayed at the back of the group, trying to make sense of what was happening. His eyes kept flicking toward the strange creatures among them. They moved like humans, but their appearance, their very nature¡ªeverything about them felt foreign, unnatural.


    "What is this place? Where the hell am I?!" The panic in his mind grew stronger, but he forced himself to suppress it again.


    As the group neared the exit, Astar noticed the guard¡¯s gaze suddenly lock onto him. The creature frowned, its red eyes narrowing, as if it had just realized something¡ªor as if it was displeased.


    "Kur-karsak!" the guard suddenly barked, pointing directly at Astar and spitting out a few more words in its strange language.


    Astar froze, a chill running down his spine.


    "Did he figure something out? Or did he just notice that I don¡¯t look like the others?!"


    "I¡­ I don¡¯t understand¡­" he stammered, taking a step back and raising his hands in an attempt to show he wasn¡¯t a threat.


    The guard ignored his gestures, stepping closer and speaking again¡ªlouder this time, his voice filled with irritation.


    Not knowing what else to do, Astar hurriedly nodded, hoping it would calm the creature.


    "Alright, alright¡­ I¡¯ll follow the others, okay?"


    But in the next instant, the guard¡¯s hand flared with a faint, mist-like glow. Before Astar could even comprehend what was happening, the creature struck him with a devastating blow straight to the stomach.


    BAM!


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    "Khaa!" Astar doubled over, letting out a strangled cry. Pain seared through his body like molten iron, and he collapsed to his knees. Nausea overtook him, and he couldn¡¯t hold back¡ªhe vomited right onto the stone floor.


    He gasped for air, clutching his abdomen, while the guard looked down at him with what seemed like disgust. Beyond the confusion, sheer terror gripped Astar.


    "Kumshak va-ar!" the guard barked again, and a sword appeared in his hand, its blade glinting with a faint light.


    A fresh wave of fear coursed through Astar, but before he could react, the guard slashed his weapon in one swift motion. The razor-sharp edge sliced through Astar¡¯s shirt with terrifying ease.


    "What do I do?!" he screamed inwardly, now drenched in cold sweat.


    But the guard paid no mind to his distress. He pointed the tip of his sword at Astar¡¯s pants, staring directly into his eyes.


    "He¡­ he wants me to take them off too?! What kind of insanity is this?!"


    Astar knew that resisting now would be suicide. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay composed, and with trembling hands, he began to remove his pajama pants. The whole time, the guard never took his eyes off him¡ªwatching like a predator sizing up its prey.


    He hastily pulled the pants off, feeling his face burn with fear and humiliation. But the guard wasn¡¯t finished. The gleaming blade pointed once more¡ªthis time at his underwear.


    "You¡¯ve got to be kidding me¡­" Astar thought, but he dared not say it aloud.


    Grinding his teeth, he grabbed the waistband and yanked them down in one swift motion, left completely bare. He stood there, trying to cover himself as best as he could, but quickly realized that none of the other prisoners even glanced in his direction. They moved like sleepwalkers, oblivious to him or the humiliating ordeal he was going through.


    "No one¡¯s even looking¡­ At least that¡¯s something."


    That thought provided some faint relief, but his fear of the guard far outweighed any comfort. Astar assumed he would now be allowed to move on, but at that moment, the guard growled something and abruptly pointed his sword toward the corner of the cell.


    "Skurta da amir!"


    Astar followed his gaze¡ªand felt his blood turn to ice.


    In the corner, slumped against the damp stone, lay a corpse. Its skin was a sickly blue-gray, its body skeletal, its ragged clothing soaked in filth. The stench of decay hung in the air. The person had been dead for some time.


    "No¡­" Astar whispered as he realized what was being demanded of him.


    The guard didn¡¯t wait for a response. He shouted again, this time with such fury that his voice echoed through the entire chamber.


    "Alright! Alright!" Astar yelled, throwing his hands up in surrender. "Damn it, just don¡¯t kill me!"


    He took a few shaky steps toward the corpse, his body trembling with revulsion. The stench of decay was unbearable, mixing with the already suffocating foulness that filled the air of the cell. Leaning down, he extended his trembling hands and began pulling the filthy, stench-soaked rags off the dead body.


    "Oh God¡­ why is this happening to me?" he muttered, trying not to look into the vacant, lifeless eyes frozen in emptiness.


    Fighting back the urge to vomit, Astar forced himself into the tattered clothing. The rough fabric scratched against his skin, clinging to him like a second layer of filth, and the stench seemed to seep into his pores. He felt disgusting, but he understood¡ªthis was the only way to stay alive.


    When he turned back to the guard, the creature wordlessly gestured for him to follow the other prisoners. Swallowing his humiliation and fear, Astar moved forward, doing his best not to think about what awaited him next.


    Breathing heavily, he followed his cellmates. His mind was in a vice¡ªendless questions, panic, and terror blended into a chaotic storm of thoughts.


    "What is happening here? Where even am I?!"


    He stole glances at the strange walls, the crude stone corridors barely illuminated by dim torches. With each step, his sense of horror deepened. He felt that if he thought too hard about all of this, his sanity would crack.


    Because of his endless work and negotiations, he never had time for movies or TV shows. Every book he had ever read was about business or self-improvement. But even so, he couldn¡¯t help but draw certain conclusions¡­


    "This¡­ this is another world, isn¡¯t it? Damn it, what kind of nonsense am I thinking¡­ But this can¡¯t be Earth! Horned people, breathing skeletons that don¡¯t even look alive¡­ How is any of this possible?!"


    Astar tried to pull himself together, but his thoughts darted in all directions. He remembered how, just last night, he had heard strange voices in his head. At the time, he had dismissed it as exhaustion, a hallucination born from overwork. But now¡­ now everything was starting to take on a new meaning.


    "Wait¡­ their language¡­ it sounded exactly the same! The voices in my head were speaking in this very language. How is that possible?!"


    His heartbeat pounded faster. He recalled how his day had started¡ªpain, dizziness, the overwhelming sensation of something foreign invading his consciousness.


    "This isn¡¯t a coincidence. The voices I heard¡­ they¡¯re connected to this place. Maybe they¡¯re the reason I¡¯m here? Wait¡­ at the very end, a man¡¯s voice called me ¡®son¡¯¡­ Were my damn parents some kind of cultists who cursed me?! Am I in hell?!"


    The shock and confusion dragged his mind into dark places, and for a brief moment, Astar let out a bitter chuckle¡ªwhether from terror or disbelief, he couldn¡¯t tell.


    "What irony. I spent all my time on business, deals, planning. I thought I was squeezing the most out of my life. And the moment I realized how empty my goals were¡­ I ended up in this nightmare!"


    He glanced at the other prisoners. Their faces were hollow, their bodies skeletal with exhaustion, yet none of them showed fear or even surprise. It was as if they were used to this horror.


    "Why are they so calm? Why aren¡¯t they screaming? Why isn¡¯t anyone trying to run?"


    He turned his gaze to the guard following behind them, watching their every move. The creature¡¯s dark red skin, glowing eyes, and horns looked as if they had been carved from another, alien world.


    "What are they going to do to me? Why am I here?!"


    The questions overwhelmed him, but Astar knew this wasn¡¯t the time to look for answers. Right now, only one thing mattered¡ªsurvival.


    "Panicking is pointless. The only thing I can do now is follow along, stay unnoticed, and wait for an opportunity¡­ if one ever comes. I used to be proud of surviving that hellish orphanage and building my own success¡­ but this place is a hundred times worse!"


    "Damn it! I finally achieved freedom, I was supposed to find my true purpose¡­ so why the hell is this happening to me now?!" He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to suppress the waves of fear, and kept moving, staying in step with the others.


    The path wasn¡¯t long, but its monotony made it feel endless. As they walked, other groups of prisoners began joining their procession. From the dark tunnels, like ghosts, emerged more of the same¡ªwretched, filthy people and strange creatures. Some shuffled forward with their heads bowed, while others staggered as if they might collapse at any moment. The guards¡ªidentical to the one escorting them¡ªremained indifferent, only occasionally barking commands.


    Astar struggled to keep up. The tattered, grimy rags clung repulsively to his body, and the stench around him grew worse. He pushed away thoughts of vomiting, knowing it would only draw unwanted attention.


    "Where are they taking us?" he wondered, sneaking glances around him.


    Finally, the corridor began to widen, and the group emerged into a vast hall. Astar stopped in his tracks, stunned by the sight before him.


    They stood at the edge of a colossal circular pit, as if carved into the heart of a mountain. It plunged downward for hundreds of meters, its walls lined with eerie lamps that held flames¡ªflames that burned without any visible fuel. The torchlight illuminated massive metal structures and crude bridges that stretched across the abyss.


    Faint daylight still trickled down from above, creating a haunting contrast between the bright upper levels and the abyss below.


    On different levels of the pit, hundreds¡ªif not thousands¡ªof prisoners labored. Their bent figures flickered here and there, moving aimlessly between wooden supports and stone ledges.


    Astar stood frozen, his feet feeling as if they had grown roots into the ground.


    "Is this¡­ hell? The real hell?"


    But there was no time to think. Dozens more guards emerged from the side tunnels, their massive forms moving with confidence, their heavy footsteps echoing through the entire pit.


    Each prisoner was handed a pickaxe. When Astar''s turn came, he didn''t immediately understand what was expected of him. A guard shoved the tool into his hands so roughly that he nearly lost his balance.


    "Kur la-adar!" the creature barked.


    "What¡­ What am I supposed to do with this?" Astar asked, trying to keep his voice steady.


    No answer came. Instead, another guard shouted something, and the rest of the prisoners hurried to their positions along the stone walls of the pit. Some immediately began working, others hesitated, but soon enough, the rhythmic sound of pickaxes striking rock filled the air.


    Astar remained standing, unsure of what to do¡ªuntil he felt the guard approach him again. That same eerie mist began to swirl around its hand.


    Without waiting to find out what would happen next, Astar gripped his pickaxe and swung it at the rock.


    Clang!


    The metal struck hard stone with a dull ring. The echo of the impact rippled through the pit, as if the mine itself was mocking him, repeating the sound again and again.


    "Fuck! Is this my punishment for being lucky?! My freedom has turned into slavery?! Am I just going to dig until I drop dead?!" Astar cursed inwardly.


    In that moment, he suddenly remembered what he had said just yesterday: "I¡¯m grateful, fate. I don¡¯t know how many more chances you¡¯ll throw my way, but I¡¯ll take them all. Just one thing¡ªlet my next chance be tied to my true calling."


    "Was my calling to be a miner?! What the hell?!"


    Fear twisted into anger inside him.


    Though he had always kept himself in shape with regular exercise, his arms began to tremble after only a few swings. The pickaxe was incredibly heavy, but he didn¡¯t dare stop.


    He kept working, each movement taking more effort than the last. His breathing grew heavier, his muscles ached from exertion, and his mind teetered on the edge of chaos.


    "What am I doing here? How did I get here? What are the rules of this place? How do I survive?!"


    He stole glances at the other prisoners, trying to glean something from their behavior. They looked like they had been doing this for a long time¡ªperhaps days, perhaps weeks. Their movements were practiced and efficient. With each strike, their pickaxes broke off large chunks of rock.


    Some prisoners occasionally unearthed strange, luminous white-blue crystals. These finds were handled with an almost reverent care, placed carefully into wooden carts stationed nearby. Guards stood over the carts, silently watching the process.


    "We¡¯re here to mine crystals," Astar realized, watching as one prisoner excitedly rushed to place a large shard into the cart.


    The surrounding workers paid him no attention, remaining completely focused on their tasks. The mine filled with the relentless clang of pickaxes, vibrating through the walls and air.


    "I haven¡¯t found a single one yet. What happens if this continues?"


    Fear crept deeper into his bones, but Astar forced himself to keep going. He struck the rock as hard as he could, but all that broke off were worthless chunks of stone.


    Hour after hour, he observed the others, searching for any clues. Some workers, exhausted to their limits, began to slow down¡ªonly to be met with a lash of the guards¡¯ whips. Those who found crystals seemed almost relieved and continued working with renewed energy, as if their lives depended on their speed.


    "There¡¯s no time to think things through rationally¡­" Astar thought, his body barely keeping pace with the relentless rhythm of the mine.


    The filthy rags he had put on clung to his sweat-drenched skin. The stench was unbearable, but the suffocating, dusty air of the mine nearly drowned it out. His hands began to go numb, and his mouth, nose, and ears were already clogged with dust.


    "Shit, shit, shit¡­" he muttered under his breath, struggling to keep going.


    He glanced at the carts filled with crystals and realized¡ªhe needed to find one too. Otherwise, this place would become his grave.


    Astar¡¯s thoughts were interrupted by the sudden, sharp shouts of the overseers, cutting through the steady rhythm of pickaxes. He looked up and saw a group of guards gathering around one of the prisoners not far from him.


    The man was skeletal, so emaciated that it seemed his body was on the verge of breaking apart. One of the guards grabbed him roughly by his clothes¡ªand something tumbled out from beneath the filthy rags. A blue crystal.


    "Luramind ulgu-dur!" the guard roared, his voice echoing through the mine.


    The man tried to say something, to explain himself, but his words were brutally cut off by a blow to the face. His body was sent flying against the wall, and the guards pounced on him immediately. The strikes rained down¡ªfists, boots, and then the crack of a whip.


    Astar couldn¡¯t look away. He stood frozen, every muscle in his body tightening with fear.


    "He tried to hide the crystal..."


    That realization made his heart pound even harder. Now he knew¡ªthere would be no leniency here. Any mistake, any deviation from the rules, would be punished with merciless brutality.


    "Bastards," he whispered under his breath, but he forced himself to shut up immediately, remembering where he was.


    He turned away and resumed hacking at the rock, trying to ignore what was happening.


    "Better to keep my head down. Don¡¯t show sympathy, don¡¯t play the hero. Stay invisible and just keep working. This is like a super shitty job with a boss who doesn¡¯t even see you as human¡­ but a hundred times worse," Astar muttered internally, glancing around cautiously.


    "I¡¯ve been used to a comfortable life for a long time, but I guess I¡¯ll have to remember what it was like back in the orphanage¡­ First, I need time¡ªto learn the rules and avoid trouble. Then, I need to figure out how to survive in a place like this..."


    He clenched his teeth, trying to block out the sounds of the beating. His mind raced, desperate to form some kind of plan.


    "I don¡¯t even understand their language. If I try to explain anything, it¡¯ll just lead to misunderstandings. They might even think I¡¯m trying to trick them."


    The solution came to him suddenly.


    "I¡¯ll pretend to be mute. A clueless idiot who just does as he¡¯s told. That way, they¡¯ll have less reason to question me."


    He took a deep breath, swung the pickaxe again, and nodded to himself.


    "Work. Dig. Survive. With time, I¡¯ll figure out what to do. I just need to hold on until I get a chance to escape. There¡¯s no way in hell I¡¯m going to accept being a slave! And for now¡­ going home is out of the question."


    The screams finally faded, but the horror of what had just happened lingered in the air. Astar shoved thoughts of the unfortunate prisoner out of his mind, forcing himself to focus on one thing¡ªsurvival.

 Chapter 3 — The Miner

    Several days had passed since Astar''s inexplicable arrival in the mines.


    He still didn¡¯t fully understand what was happening, but he kept working. Every day bled into the next¡ªdirt, cold stone underfoot, the endless clanging of pickaxes. His muscles ached constantly, his fingers were numb, and his skin had cracked and bled in places from the relentless friction.


    Rest was a formality, and the food was miserable. After each shift, they were fed a strange, tasteless porridge and water, then herded back into the dungeons, where they collapsed onto the cold, wet ground, hoping to close their eyes for even a moment. But sleep brought no relief¡ªhis body didn¡¯t recover, and his mind was torn apart by emotional exhaustion.


    "This is worse than I ever imagined¡­ Slaving away in the comfort of Labyrinth¡¯s office was bliss compared to this," Astar thought as he stretched his stiff muscles before beginning another day, trying to ease the pain even a little.


    In all these days, he hadn¡¯t found a single crystal. And each day, his fear grew.


    "Why haven¡¯t they punished me yet?"


    Watching the other prisoners, he began to see a pattern. As long as someone worked with complete effort, even if they didn¡¯t find any crystals, they were spared. But if someone slacked off or only pretended to work, the guards reacted immediately, turning the moment into a brutal lesson for the rest.


    "Seems they value hard work regardless of results. Maybe this is some kind of penal colony? But then why the hell am I here?" he asked himself.


    After the initial shock of those first days, Astar managed to regain a semblance of composure. After all, he¡¯d experienced rough conditions on Earth too. He was furious that his freedom and everything he¡¯d worked for had been trampled so cruelly. He didn¡¯t know whether to blame God, his parents, or someone else entirely, but one thing was certain¡ªhe was angry.


    It felt like he had started to hallucinate about freedom and a peaceful life all over again, building survival strategies for the mine. His brain, conditioned for years to operate in crisis mode, didn¡¯t easily switch off. Old instincts quickly adapted to new circumstances, and his predatory nature began to stir again.


    Astar realized there was no point trying to logically explain how he¡¯d ended up in this strange world. But what could be reasoned out was how to squeeze every last advantage from the situation.


    "Alright¡­ as long as I keep working hard, I have a chance to survive."


    That thought became his anchor. He focused on every strike of his pickaxe, forcing out the pain and fear.


    On one of those relentless days, when his muscles were barely functioning, Astar suddenly noticed a faint gleam in the rock before him. His heart stopped¡ªthen kicked into overdrive.


    "Is that¡­ is that it?!"


    He shoved the rubble aside and dropped his pickaxe, leaning in close. There, nestled deep in the stone, was a crystal¡ªsmall, but glowing like blue fire.


    "My first¡­ after all this time," he thought. "Ha¡­ ha-ha! Well then..." He exhaled, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.


    "Looks like I get to live a little longer!"


    His hands trembled. He glanced around to see if any guards were watching. Then, carefully, he reached out, intending to pry it free.


    Astar brushed his fingers against the crystal, but the moment his skin touched its glowing surface, a shock ran through him. He jerked back, expecting pain¡ªbut instead felt something entirely different. A warm, gentle wave washed through his body, filling him with a sense of power and vitality.


    "What¡­ is this?" he whispered, staring at his fingers, which now seemed to shimmer faintly.


    Panic surged through him. "If the guards see this, they''ll think I''m up to something. I can¡¯t afford to hesitate!"


    He drew a deep breath, forced down the fear, and reached for the crystal again. This time, despite the strange tingling, he grabbed it firmly and pulled it from the rock. The crystal lay in his palm, cool to the touch¡ªyet it felt alive.


    At that very moment, something began pouring into him. It felt like a stream of pure energy coursing through every cell in his body. The muscle pain began to fade. The cuts on his fingers sealed before his eyes. The exhaustion that had haunted him for days melted away.


    "What the hell is happening?!" Astar thought, stunned.


    But there was no time to figure it out. He glanced around, spotted a nearby cart, and knew¡ªif he waited even a second too long, it could cost him dearly.


    Clutching the crystal in his hand, he bolted toward the cart, doing his best not to betray the shock or relief swirling inside him. His legs moved swiftly, his body responding in a way it hadn¡¯t for days.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine¡­¡± he muttered under his breath as he dropped the crystal into the cart.


    As it hit the pile of other crystals, he could almost hear a faint click inside his mind, as though some invisible link had just snapped. The energy that had been flowing into him vanished in an instant, leaving behind only a lingering warmth in his chest.


    "These aren¡¯t just precious stones¡­" Astar realized as he quickly made his way back to his station.


    He picked up his pickaxe again, surprised by the renewed freshness in his muscles. Pretending to stay focused on his work, Astar¡¯s thoughts spun around what had just happened.


    "These crystals¡­ it¡¯s like¡­ I don¡¯t know what happened, but something inside them gave me strength. It even healed my wounds¡­ The laws of physics here must be completely different. There¡¯s nothing like this on Earth."


    He looked up, scanning the area to see if anyone had noticed. Everything appeared normal: prisoners swung their pickaxes at the walls, guards watched in silence from the shadows.


    "I wonder if the others can heal too when they touch the crystals¡­ But no one else seems to react like I did. Better play it safe¡ªact tired, or the guards might start asking questions."


    Astar continued working at his usual sluggish pace, but now he knew¡ªthere was something far more important hidden within this mine. And that gave him something he hadn¡¯t felt in days: hope.


    Time passed slowly, and each day stretched into an eternity.


    The mine¡¯s routine was brutal and monotonous, but Astar had learned to adapt. He knew not to linger too long, but also never to appear too full of energy.


    Whenever he found a crystal, he would pace himself carefully, taking just long enough to carry it to the cart without drawing suspicion. Not too fast, not too slow. During these moments, he felt the crystal¡¯s energy soaking into him¡ªeasing his exhaustion, healing his wounds, restoring his strength. But he knew better than to rely on it too much.


    "Just enough to recharge. Then get rid of it. No need to get beaten half to death," he reasoned.


    Over time, Astar noticed something else: in the discarded rubble, tiny crystal shards would sometimes remain¡ªso small that no one else paid them any attention. The guards didn¡¯t seem to consider them valuable at all.


    "This is my chance," he realized one day, spotting a sliver no larger than a grain of sand glinting inside a chunk of stone.


    Astar pretended to be fixated on it, like a starving child discovering a crumb of food. He crouched down, plucked the shard free, and swiftly slipped it into his mouth.


    From the outside, it just looked like a prisoner so far gone he was trying to chew on rocks. A few nearby glanced at him, but said nothing. In a place like this, where madness and starvation were constant companions, no one questioned strange behavior. Everyone was too busy surviving.


    "Please¡­ don¡¯t let them notice," he whispered to himself, clenching his teeth as the shard began to dissolve on his tongue.


    It melted slowly, leaving behind a strange tingling sensation. A warm wave flowed through his body, restoring his strength. His fatigue ebbed, and the raw cuts on his hands began to heal.


    "It worked again..."


    Astar decided he would keep doing this whenever he got the chance. He began to fake interest in random stones, occasionally lifting them to his face as if inspecting them¡ªand slipping a shard into his mouth, only to spit the rest out half an hour later.


    From the outside, it looked pitiful, even absurd¡ªbut no one, not even the guards, gave it a second glance. To them, he was just another broken prisoner, slowly losing his mind.


    And so, an entire month passed¡­


    To Astar¡¯s surprise, his body had grown stronger than the others¡¯. It seemed the crystals didn¡¯t just heal¡ªthey accumulated inside him. He had learned to recover in secret, using the shards to regain strength, all while keeping up the facade. To the guards and fellow prisoners, he was still just the mute fool who worked to survive and nothing more.


    "Stay invisible. Thanks to these crystals, I finally have a tool for survival," he told himself, clinging to the fragile spark of hope.


    Every day remained a kind of hell, but deep down, Astar held onto his faith in himself. Slowly, he began to notice patterns in the guards¡¯ behavior. He studied how the mine was organized and began adapting accordingly.


    Over the course of that month, Astar gradually adjusted to the brutal rhythm of this new reality. The panic that had gripped him at first was replaced by cold determination. He observed. He remembered. He adapted.


    One of the turning points came when Astar met Dalanar¡ªa grim man he had first encountered on his very first day. Astar had immediately noticed that this man was different from the other prisoners. Dalanar¡¯s face was lined with scars, his black hair always tied back in a tight tail, and his gaze was weary but firm. There was confidence in his movements, and a quiet authority in the way he held himself¡ªlike someone used to being in command.


    Astar quickly realized the man was watching him. From time to time, Dalanar would glance at him thoughtfully, as if trying to figure something out. At first, it made Astar nervous, but over time, he noticed that the man didn¡¯t show any hostility. On the contrary, he occasionally stepped in to ward off other aggressive inmates.


    "Maybe he figured out I¡¯m not insane. I did try to speak on the first day, even if he didn¡¯t understand a word," Astar thought, swinging his pickaxe.


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    Dalanar had tried to speak to him a few times. His voice was low and gravelly, and his words sounded like a mix of harsh syllables and strange intonations. Astar, of course, understood nothing, but he made a quick decision: he would play the part of the mute fool, simply nodding or using gestures to show agreement or attention.


    It worked. The man seemed to assume Astar didn¡¯t know the language for whatever reason. Still, he continued talking, sometimes repeating the same words as if trying to get the meaning across through context.


    That was how Astar began to learn¡ªand grow closer to his hardened companion in misery.


    He started picking out individual words, linking them to gestures or actions. Slowly, he learned the man¡¯s name: Dalanar. It came up often when other prisoners addressed him. Sometimes it was spoken with respect, sometimes with fear.


    "This Dalanar¡­ he¡¯s not here by accident. He moves like a soldier¡ªor something similar. I need to figure out who he is and how he survives."


    Astar kept listening silently. Sometimes he nodded, sometimes pointed at something to show he understood. It might have looked ridiculous from the outside, but gradually Dalanar began to treat him more calmly, as if taking the mute fool under his invisible wing. Though Astar had once been the leader, the one offering help to others in his ¡°previous life,¡± he now understood the value of staying low and close to someone dependable.


    Their silent bond slowly solidified. Astar continued to observe Dalanar, picking up new words along the way. He still didn¡¯t understand most of what was said¡ªbut he had begun to grasp the tone and intent of conversations around him.


    The days passed, blending into an endless cycle.


    Astar kept up the act of the mute fool, but now it came more naturally. His strategy with the crystal shards was working¡ªhe no longer suffered the unbearable physical agony of the early weeks. In fact, he had noticed that his body was getting stronger.


    Daily labor, constant digging, and the slow absorption of crystal energy were steadily transforming his physique. The skin on his hands had toughened, and his muscles had become defined. He¡¯d always kept fit, but now¡­ now he was stronger than ever.


    "Damn¡­ compared to this, a gym is a joke. Then again, without those miraculous crystals, I¡¯d have dropped dead from exhaustion a long time ago," he thought, glancing at his reflection in the occasional pool of drinking water they were given.


    But the change wasn¡¯t just physical. His mind had shifted, too. He still feared the guards, but he had learned to live with it. Every step, every action now came from cold calculation. Astar had started to accept this place as a new reality¡ªand began to plan how to survive it.


    "As long as I¡¯m here, I need to adapt. I can¡¯t let anyone think I¡¯m weak or useless. Especially those horned bastards."


    His interactions with Dalanar were finally paying off. Through their quiet connection, Astar had learned to isolate frequently used words in the language. Gradually, he began to understand their meaning¡ª"food," "work," "crystal," "stop."


    It wasn¡¯t much, but it opened a door. Astar even began to catch the intent behind certain guard commands, which helped him avoid drawing attention to himself.


    He swung his pickaxe in silence, but his mind was always busy¡ªstudying anything that might help him survive. He watched the guards, the prisoners, the rhythms of the mine. And slowly, he began to understand how things worked.


    With each passing day, Astar became more convinced: his act as the mute fool was working. The guards accepted it. Even some of the prisoners had started to ignore him completely.


    "Invisibility is power," he thought, pressing another tiny crystal shard into his mouth, tasting the grit and dust. "But what the hell do I need this power for? I was supposed to have a free, beautiful life¡ªnot slave away in the mines of some parallel world!"


    Remembering his past, anger flared inside him. He started swinging harder.


    "Damn it¡­ I just want to lie in a clean bed and eat a decent meal¡­ Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Each curse was punctuated by a brutal strike of the pickaxe.


    Thanks to the changes in his body, breaking through stone had become easier. He was finding more crystals now. Only then did he notice something else¡ªhe had started receiving double food portions. But even more than that, what truly pleased him was the increased chance to touch those magical crystals more often.


    Work went on as usual, the mine''s drone becoming part of the background¡ªan endless hum like a hive¡¯s constant buzz. Astar swung his pickaxe with quiet focus, doing his best to remain invisible, when suddenly, loud shouts broke out to his left.


    He turned his head and saw two prisoners locked in a vicious fight. Their voices cut through the rhythm of pickaxes, and their movements were so sharp, so violent, that they immediately drew attention.


    "Idiots..." Astar thought, instinctively dropping his gaze to avoid looking too interested.


    It all happened fast: nearby guards charged toward the brawl, their hulking bodies thundering across the stone. What followed was a brutal crackdown¡ªwhips cracked, boots stomped, screams were muffled beneath violence. Around them, all the other prisoners quickly refocused on their tasks, trying not to attract any of that wrath.


    Astar returned to his pickaxe, forcing himself to look absorbed in his work.


    "The less I see, the longer I live," he reminded himself.


    He swung again¡ªand the sound that followed was different.


    Clang! A bright, ringing note echoed, like metal striking something solid¡ªbut not stone. Astar froze.


    Emerging from the rock before him was a crystal¡ªthis time a good-sized one. Blue, luminous, shimmering as though it held tremendous energy. Its surface gleamed, drawing the eye.


    "A fine catch!"


    But excitement quickly gave way to tension. A dangerous, reckless, and incredibly tempting thought crept into his mind¡­ All the guards were focused on the fight. The nearby prisoners kept their heads down, avoiding attention.


    "No one¡¯s looking¡­ What if I¡ª"


    Without wasting a moment, he reached for the crystal, trying to pry it free. As his fingers touched its surface, that now-familiar warmth pulsed through his body. It felt like life¡ªlike raw strength¡ªbut Astar crushed the sensation, forcing himself to stay focused.


    "Get a grip, idiot. Don¡¯t risk it. But then again¡­ taking risks is what got me out of hell before. Have I really grown so soft I¡¯m scared of a challenge?"


    He stood still, the crystal in his hand, torn between instinct and caution. But his body, driven by something primal, decided for him.


    In one swift motion, as if in a trance, he shoved the crystal into his mouth.


    In that instant, the world seemed to stop. A rush of energy surged through him¡ªpleasurable, intoxicating, overwhelming. The power he had once felt from tiny fragments was nothing compared to this.


    The flow of strength tore through his body, pulsing with almost unbearable intensity, concentrating behind his forehead. Astar felt his muscles fill with power, his wounds and cuts sealing up at a supernatural speed.


    "God¡­ this is incredible!" he thought, euphoric.


    The energy felt like a river of heat, cleansing him from the inside, leaving behind an almost divine clarity. He felt as if he could lift the whole mine with his bare hands. His thoughts sharpened¡ªlike someone had blown the dust off long-forgotten corners of his mind.


    And no one had noticed.


    All the guards were distracted by the fight. The other prisoners, numb to violence, didn¡¯t even glance up.


    "No one saw¡­ Thank God, that was perfect timing!"


    His heart pounded wildly. Forcing himself to breathe deeply, he returned to his pickaxe, doing everything he could to mask the surge of excitement.


    "This power¡­ it¡¯s real. But I can¡¯t give myself away. I need to act like nothing happened."


    He resumed working, his strikes steady, but inside, his body felt reborn. The fatigue that had haunted him since day one vanished. Sweat poured from his body¡ªthick, rancid sweat, as if all the toxins and illnesses were being flushed out through his pores. Anywhere else, the smell would¡¯ve drawn attention immediately¡ªbut here, it blended right in with the mine¡¯s overwhelming stench.


    "Whoever owns this mine¡­ if they can casually possess crystals like this, what kind of power do they have?" he thought, casting a quick glance at the guards still punishing the fighters.


    He barely had time to raise his pickaxe again before one of the guards looked directly at him.


    The guard¡ªtall, massive, with dark red skin and cruel eyes¡ªpaused, as if he¡¯d noticed something. His gaze lingered on Astar longer than usual.


    Astar¡¯s heart skipped a beat, then began pounding in his chest like a drum.


    "Shit. Why did I look at him?! I¡¯m screwed!"


    His mouth, stuffed with the crystal, made it nearly impossible to breathe properly. The crystal was far too large to go unnoticed¡ªhis cheek bulged visibly, and there was no hiding it.


    ¡°If he realizes what I¡¯m doing¡­¡±


    Astar felt a wave of cold wash over him. A thousand scenarios raced through his mind, and each of them ended with him being brutally punished.


    But suddenly, the guard laughed. A rough, guttural sound¡ªalmost a growl. He raised his hand and pointed straight at Astar.


    "Mura-s al! Ha-ha-ha!" his loud voice rang out, drawing the attention of the other guards.


    They turned, and their faces broke into mocking grins. One puffed out his cheeks, mimicking someone who had filled their mouth with stones. The others joined in, making exaggerated faces and pretending to chew. Their laughter echoed through the mine like a cruel chorus.


    Astar understood: over the past few weeks, he had truly become the local fool. Their reaction made it clear¡ªthey didn¡¯t take him seriously at all.


    "Now that¡¯s luck..." he thought, carefully hiding his overwhelming relief.


    He shook his head slowly, pretending not to understand why they were laughing, and went back to swinging his pickaxe with renewed vigor. While the guards continued their mockery, he kept sucking on the crystal as if it were just another rock¡ªlike always.


    "I got out of that one¡­ But I need to be more careful. Next time, I might not be so lucky."


    He returned to work, keeping up the appearance of a harmless fool, while inside his mind, he replayed every moment, analyzing it to avoid future mistakes.


    The day dragged on, but Astar, charged with the crystal¡¯s energy, worked like never before.


    He felt power pulsing through every cell of his body. The crystal had shrunk, but it was still large enough to show¡ªif someone looked closely. That made him move with extra caution.


    During the meal, he tried to stay out of view. No normal prisoner could work like he did, especially not without collapsing from hunger. So he had to fake weakness, leaning against the wall as if too tired to stand straight while eating.


    Each spoonful of the tasteless porridge was torture¡ªit was harder than he expected to chew with a crystal in his mouth. Astar made his movements slow and dull, trying not to attract any attention.


    "If anyone notices¡­ No. Don¡¯t even think about it."


    Fortunately, no one seemed to suspect a thing. He still looked like the same desperate fool who sometimes chewed rocks out of sheer madness.


    After the shift ended, he followed the other prisoners back to their cell. They marched in silence¡ªonly the guards paid any attention to the group. Up ahead loomed the heavy door of the cell where Astar had spent every night.


    Inside, he instinctively sat next to Dalanar, no longer even noticing the rancid stench. The man immediately leaned back against the wall and began to doze. Astar mimicked him, settling in and closing his eyes, pretending to be worn out.


    But he wasn¡¯t tired. On the contrary¡ªhis body buzzed with energy. His muscles pulsed with strength, and his mind felt clearer than ever. His heartbeat raced, not from fear or anxiety, but from the powerful current still flowing through him.


    "I¡¯ve never felt this strong in my life. Not even when I was training back on Earth!"


    He clenched his fist and marveled at the way his body responded¡ªfluid and precise, as if resistance had vanished.


    "These crystals¡­ they¡¯re changing me."


    Astar turned his head slowly, observing the others. Most were asleep or drifting into unconsciousness, their bodies frail and broken. The contrast between them and his own condition was jarring.


    "If I can use this power right, I¡¯ll have a real chance to survive¡­ No, more than that. I¡¯ll have a chance to escape this hell."


    With that thought, he allowed himself to relax and close his eyes. Sleep didn¡¯t come, but he lay still, letting no one see he was fully awake.


    His mind, fueled by the crystal¡¯s energy, began building new plans, strategies, ideas. "I need time. I need to understand how they work. And above all¡­ I need to stay in the shadows until the real chance to escape appears."


    With that thought, Astar began to drift toward sleep. His body, warm and brimming with power, sank into a pleasant void. The warmth flowing from within spread through his limbs like an invisible stream of life.


    But something strange was happening.


    Unnoticed by him, faint wisps of steam began to rise from his skin. They were nearly invisible in the dark¡ªthin tendrils, warm but not hot, like a continuation of the energy from the crystal still dissolving within him.


    At first, it was barely perceptible. But gradually, it grew. The steam thickened, forming a light mist around his body. The crystal inside him had nearly dissolved, releasing one final surge of power.


    And then something strange happened¡­


    DONG!


    A loud, resonant chime rang out inside his mind¡ªlike the toll of a colossal bell, distant but powerful enough to shake the very core of his skull.


    Kgah¡­ Astar¡¯s eyes snapped open. His muscles tensed, and his heart skipped a beat.


    He clenched his fists, as if bracing for a fight¡ªbut then froze, stunned.


    Because he was no longer in the cell.


    He was somewhere else¡ªsomewhere that resembled space, yet unlike any cosmos he¡¯d ever imagined. There were no stars¡­ only swirling sparks, orbs of flame suspended in the void, circling around him in strange, silent patterns.

 Chapter 4 — Memoria

    The space Astar found himself in was¡­ fantastical.


    Gone were the damp stone walls and the foul stench of the dungeon. Around him stretched an endless expanse of deep black-blue. But this darkness wasn¡¯t frightening. It was thick like velvet¡ªsoft, and strangely comforting. And all around him floated shimmering lights. They didn¡¯t fall, didn¡¯t rise¡ªjust hovered, suspended as if by invisible currents of air.


    Astar turned, feeling his breath slow. He cautiously took a step forward¡ªbut felt no solid surface beneath his feet. His body simply floated in this strange place, as if the very space itself was holding him up.


    ¡°Goddamn¡­¡± he whispered, glancing around. ¡°This is getting more and more absurd. If this is a dream, it¡¯s devilishly realistic.¡±


    His words seemed to dissolve into silence. There was no echo here, no familiar sounds¡ªonly the gentle flicker of sparks and a strange sense of calm.


    And then, something happened¡ªsomething he hadn''t expected at all.


    Astar felt a strange, yet unmistakable sensation. He stopped, trying to grasp what exactly was happening. It was like a flash of intuition¡ªbut far deeper.


    Each of the lights surrounding him seemed to whisper in an unknown language. But their whisper wasn''t made of words¡ªit was felt in his heart, in his mind. It was like the softest music, where every note was connected to him by some invisible thread.


    ¡°What is this¡­¡± he murmured, reaching out toward the nearest spark.


    It flared brighter, as if responding to his presence. But it didn¡¯t touch him¡ªonly drifted slowly away from his palm. Still, Astar felt its warmth, and suddenly understood: he wasn¡¯t just seeing these sparks. He could feel them. Each and every one.


    Some stronger, some weaker¡ªbut every spark was part of something whole. And more than that, they were connected to him. They belonged to something shared, linked together by unseen strands, like a vast web. A web that bound them all¡­


    ¡°This¡­ this is madness,¡± he said, pressing a hand to his chest, where he felt a faint vibration.


    The lights seemed to pulse in time with his heartbeat, as if resonating with his thoughts. The strangest, most unsettling part was that the sensation reminded him of something he had only imagined¡ªthe feeling people must have when surrounded by family. A feeling he himself had never truly known.


    The realization hit Astar like a wave crashing into his chest. His parents. His orphanhood. His childhood dreams. All of it seemed to rise before him in this infinite space. The sparks, bound to him by invisible threads, suddenly reminded him of something he¡¯d never experienced: belonging. Of parents he had always longed for, even as he rejected the idea out of self-preservation.


    He clutched at his clothes, not noticing how his breathing had become ragged. His chest tightened under the weight of rising emotions, as if long-buried memories had finally broken through the dam he had so carefully constructed around his soul.


    ¡°Goddamn it¡­¡± he muttered through gritted teeth, feeling his eyes sting with tears.


    Orphanhood had always been his deepest, most forbidden wound. He had sealed that part of himself away, building walls of sarcasm and cynicism to avoid feeling weak. He always told himself that family meant nothing. That he didn¡¯t need it. That he was stronger than anyone because he had survived alone¡ªbecause he had built his life from nothing.


    But now¡­


    This feeling¡ªstrange, warm, almost painful¡ªoverwhelmed him. These sparks, linked to him and to each other, had given him something he had never known before. Kinship. Belonging. He felt it with every fiber of his being.


    ¡°What the hell is happening to me?!¡± he whispered, curling his fingers so tightly his nails dug into his palms.


    A single tear slid down his cheek, but Astar inhaled deeply, pushing the weakness away. He couldn¡¯t afford to break down¡ªespecially not in this place. His gaze hardened, and the muscles in his face tensed, as if preparing for a fight.


    ¡°No. I won¡¯t let this place break me!¡±


    His eyes were still glistening, but with sheer force of will, he straightened his back. He wiped away the tears and stared at the lights as if challenging everything they represented.


    "Is this some kind of damned trial or what?! I won''t give in!"


    Yet despite the defiance in his mind, he couldn¡¯t ignore the warmth the lights continued to radiate. It wrapped around him, calming him, gently reminding him¡ªhe wasn¡¯t alone.


    Astar stood amidst the endless expanse, watching the flickering lights float around him. But then one of them began to change. It stood out¡ªnot by brightness, but by darkness. Unlike the others, which glowed softly, this one seemed to absorb the light around it, creating a sense of something deeply alien.


    The dark flame drifted slowly toward him, leaving behind a faint trail. Astar froze, a strange mix of curiosity and unease rising inside him. His gaze locked onto it, drawn by something unseen. He could feel a connection, a pull¡ªthere was definitely something between him and this fire¡­


    ¡°What are you¡­¡± he whispered, reaching out.


    The moment his fingers touched the dark flame, reality exploded.


    DU-DOOM!


    A blinding pain tore through him, as though a thousand searing needles stabbed into every cell of his body. His chest tightened, his skull felt like it was splitting open, and a scream of agony burst from his throat, echoing through the infinite darkness.


    ¡°Aaaaaagh!¡± he cried, collapsing to his knees. But his hands seemed fused to the flame, unable to let go.


    The pain wasn¡¯t just physical. Something foreign and incomprehensible began clawing into his mind, rifling through his memories. It felt like he was losing himself¡ªhis past, his identity.


    Through the searing agony, Astar saw a black stream of energy flowing from the flame into him. Other currents appeared from afar, as if summoned by the flame¡ªdark tendrils from another plane, converging on him. It was as though they were marking him, claiming him.


    And then¡ªvisions.


    Scene after scene flashed before his eyes, as if he were reliving someone else¡¯s life through their eyes. A man in black robes. His face shrouded in shadow. Dark violet energy swirled around his hands, curling and dancing like the silhouettes of living beings. He wielded it with destructive grace¡ªlaying waste to strange cities unlike anything from Earth. Each movement was filled with power, control, and terrifying intent.


    "What is this?! Who is he?!" Astar thought in panic, but the pain was too overwhelming to focus.


    Another vision: the same man hovering in the sky above ruins. That violet energy spiraled around him as he looked down at vast hordes of monstrous creatures. He was saying something, but no sound came¡ªonly a low hum that filled the space around him.


    Each vision pulled Astar deeper into chaos. He couldn¡¯t tell what he was seeing. The past? The future? And why him? Who was this man?


    "No¡­ these aren¡¯t just visions," flashed through his mind¡ªjust before another wave of pain and images overwhelmed him, nearly tearing his consciousness apart.


    Then, just as he was about to vanish in the storm, the chaotic images fell away¡­ sifted out¡­ leaving behind something specific. A fraction. A fragment. A shard of knowledge¡ªsome sliver of the man¡¯s understanding¡ªtransferring directly into Astar¡¯s mind.


    He felt like his entire body was burning from the inside, his mind flooded by wave after wave of unbearable pain. But even in the torment, something changed: the chaos began to take shape. This wasn¡¯t just suffering. This was¡­ learning.


    Tiny fragments of understanding bloomed in his thoughts, as though someone were opening doors to mysteries he¡¯d never known existed.


    "What is this¡­?" he whispered inwardly, clenching his jaw to keep from screaming again.


    The visions returned¡ªbut now in order. Like pages of a book he had never read, but which was now becoming a part of him. He saw the face of the man at last¡ªgolden eyes, sharp and unforgiving. Long violet hair. A deep scar running across his face. And Astar was no longer a spectator. The knowledge was becoming his own.


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    He watched as the man manipulated the violet energy with perfect mastery. It flowed from his hands, forming shapes¡ªspirits of shadow, bound to his will. Every movement was precise, as if he were conducting an invisible orchestra. His forehead glowed, and something began to take shape¡ªan object, dark and strange. A tablet. Black, with glowing runes etched into it.


    Astar didn¡¯t know how, but he understood: the tablet held a technique. A sealed art, bound in spirit form¡ªand it began to form before him in this space, surrounded by the countless lights.


    "This is his power¡­ But why am I seeing this? Why am I feeling this?" he murmured, but no answer came.


    More knowledge poured in¡ªnot just images, but understanding. Astar realized this wasn¡¯t simply being shown to him. It was being given to him. These insights weren¡¯t foreign anymore¡ªthey were becoming his. He could feel his mind stretching, expanding, as if subtle threads of comprehension were weaving themselves into his soul. What had once seemed like mysticism was now suddenly... tangible.


    And then he realized something else¡ªsomething far more terrifying:


    This flame, both dark and brilliant, wasn¡¯t just some foreign entity...


    Alongside the strange black tablet came understanding¡ªfragments of knowledge, of fundamental concepts from this world that was still so alien to him.


    ¡°Memoria,¡± ¡°Source of Memoria,¡± and ¡°Ancestral Memory.¡± These weren¡¯t just words¡ªthey were the key ideas passed to him through the visions! Nothing more¡ªand nothing less.


    At that moment, Astar¡¯s eyes seemed to flood with blood. A dreadful realization crashed over him¡ªone he desperately did not want to accept.


    ¡°No! That¡¯s not possible!¡± he shouted through clenched teeth, his voice strained with pain. ¡°There¡¯s no way I was born in this world!¡±


    He gasped for breath, chest rising and falling like someone who had just broken the surface of an icy lake. The words ¡°I was born in this world¡± echoed in his mind, each repetition ringing like a bell, striking deeper into his psyche.


    ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s a mistake¡­ a mistake!¡± He clenched his fists, but the weight of the revelation, compounded by the weakness in his limbs, kept him frozen in place. ¡°I... I grew up on Earth! I had friends! A career! My parents were just bastards who abandoned me!¡±


    The visions returned in waves, each one reinforcing the knowledge he had absorbed. Now he knew: the dark flame was the soul of a long-dead man¡ªand the most horrifying truth was that this man had been one of his ancestors, as were all the other flames in this place.


    And if that was true¡­ then he himself must also be from this world.


    ¡°Memoria.¡± ¡°Source of Memoria.¡± ¡°Ancestral Memory.¡±


    These words, passed to him by the flame, now echoed in his mind with chilling clarity. Coupled with fragments of the man¡¯s memories, their meaning began to crystallize¡­


    The energy Astar had been absorbing from the crystals in the mine¡ªit was called memoria. Memoria was the primal substance that permeated this world; and according to the locals¡¯ beliefs, even souls were woven from it.


    And from what he now understood, nearly every living being used memoria at some level. When a being died, its soul and memories returned to the Source of Memoria¡ªa collective space where all knowledge, emotions, and experiences merged into one.


    From this arose the concept known here as Ancestral Memory. When a new being is born, their parents pass on a spiritual imprint, forever linking the child to one of the ancestral lines¡ªeither the father¡¯s or the mother¡¯s. This wasn¡¯t mere genetics. It was a soul-deep bond sealed in the Source of Memoria.


    The information Astar had received was scattered, fragmented, and lacking clear structure. He didn¡¯t fully understand how it all worked¡­ But one thing was clear: by absorbing enough memoria, one could break through to a new state of existence. In that moment, the being would enter the Source of Memoria¡ªwhere the souls and memories of deceased ancestors resided, bound by lineage.


    It was a ritual¡ªone undergone by all who were capable of gathering and cultivating enough memoria to reach that threshold. Astar didn¡¯t know how, but during this process, a connection would be made with one of those ancestors, and a piece of their knowledge would be passed down. In this way, a family¡¯s strength and legacy were forged.


    And this was the realization that horrified Astar most¡ªbecause it was exactly what he was experiencing now. He had reached the Source of Memoria¡­ and received the memories of someone he was spiritually connected to. Someone of his own bloodline.


    But Astar was convinced: he had grown up on Earth. No magical threads or ancestral bonds could undo that truth.


    ¡°This is a lie! It has to be a lie!¡± he cried into the void. But only silence answered him¡ªpure and absolute.


    The flame before him continued to pulse softly, almost reassuringly, while the black tablet slowly materialized beside it. It felt as though the soul of the ancestor was waiting¡ªfor Astar to accept what had been passed down. But Astar wasn¡¯t ready.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a part of this world... I can¡¯t be!¡± His voice trembled, filled with fury, fear, and despair.


    Yet alongside his denials, something else stirred inside him¡ªsomething he couldn¡¯t push away. He felt a connection to this place. To the flame. To the man from the visions. The bond was deep, intimate, undeniable.


    ¡°Could I really belong to this strange world? What the hell is happening to me?!¡±


    That thought pierced his defenses like a dagger driven straight into his heart. Astar clenched his teeth, fighting the scream threatening to rise in his throat. He didn¡¯t want to accept this¡ªbut everything inside him, every cell in his body, every emotion sharpened to a painful edge, affirmed the truth.


    Homeland? Home? Who was he now?


    Tears fell silently from his eyes. A mix of rage, pain, loss¡ªand something else he couldn¡¯t name. Maybe it was a longing for something he never knew he was missing. Or maybe¡­ it was the fear that his life on Earth had never really been his.


    It all felt like one giant, cruel joke.


    The physical pain that had ravaged Astar¡¯s body began to subside, and the flame finally drifted away. It felt as if the searing needles piercing every cell of his being had finally withdrawn, leaving only a faint tingling behind. He still felt weak, but alongside that weakness came a strange relief¡ªlike the entire experience had somehow purified him.


    The memories, fragments of visions, images of the man who had wielded streams of dark violet energy¡ªthose too began to fade. They receded into the shadows of his mind, falling into the background until they were nothing more than hazy silhouettes. But not all was lost. A piece of that knowledge remained, firmly embedded in his consciousness.


    The conclusion was simple and merciless: from the flood of information that had overwhelmed him, only a few things had stayed with him. Scraps of understanding about memoria, its essence, the soul¡¯s connection to the Source of Memoria, and the concept of Ancestral Memory.


    But most importantly¡ªthe tablet beside him had finally taken its complete form.


    ¡°Corruption Devouring Technique,¡± Astar murmured, suddenly aware that this was the only thing he remembered clearly about it.


    He also knew that to unlock the technique, he would have to activate the tablet. The only problem was¡­ he lacked the foundational knowledge of this world to truly grasp what that even meant.


    "What does this technique actually do? And why would I need it?" He clutched the tablet in his hand, feeling a strange warmth pulse through his body. Questions swirled in his mind, but no answers came.


    He recalled the way the dark flame had drifted toward him. It hadn¡¯t been hostile. On the contrary, it had seemed to offer something¡ªsomething Astar was meant to receive. As if their souls, their natures, had recognized something familiar in each other, despite the chasm of life and death between them. That sensation of belonging¡­ it terrified him more than anything.


    ¡°I was born here,¡± he whispered¡ªand the words rang like a hammer striking an anvil.


    The realization was terrifying¡ªbut inescapable. Knowledge burst like sparks in his mind, undeniable truths come alive: §®emoria, Source of Memoria, Ancestral Memory, the spiritual imprint of lineage...


    ¡°And what the hell am I supposed to do now?!¡± he shouted into the void. ¡°Then where the hell are my parents?! My entire damn bloodline?! How did they even send me to another world where I wasted my whole life working for nothing?! Are you kidding me?!¡±


    ¡°Shit! I¡¯d rather be lying on a beach right now, wrapped around some gorgeous girl! To hell with a calling¡ªI was at least comfortable!¡± Rage and bitter frustration boiled inside Astar. Everything he had done, everything he had built and taken pride in, had just been smashed and flipped on its head.


    Then he remembered it again¡ªthose final words he¡¯d heard before leaving Earth. He had heard them clearly: ¡°Forgive me, son¡­¡± The memory only added fuel to his fury.


    Astar was ready to scream again, to release the storm inside him¡ªbut then he noticed something. The space around him¡ªthe Source of Memoria¡ªwas beginning to change. The black-blue void, dotted with flickering lights, trembled as if struck by invisible waves. Its borders began to blur, becoming translucent, as though reality was slipping through his fingers.


    ¡°No... what¡¯s happening?¡± he whispered, glancing around.


    The lights that had once surrounded him with warmth and a strange sense of belonging began to vanish, one by one. They evaporated like drops of water on a hot surface, leaving behind only faint trails of light. The space around him flattened, losing its depth, turning into a faceless, hollow void.


    Astar reached toward the nearest spark, his hand trembling.


    ¡°Wait!¡± he cried out¡ªbut the words came out muffled, as if the air itself had thickened and swallowed the sound.


    The last remnants of the Source of Memoria began dissolving rapidly, and before Astar could even process what was happening, an invisible force gripped him. The sensation was unpleasant¡ªlike being yanked somewhere against his will. His body grew heavy, and his consciousness sank back into a thick, murky fog.


    He screamed¡ªbut not even he could hear the sound. His body plunged through an unseen membrane, and then came the drop¡ªa sharp fall that lasted only a heartbeat.


    And suddenly, he jolted awake.


    ¡°Kgah!¡± he gasped, feeling a chill surge through him.


    His eyes snapped open, and he sucked in a breath. His heart pounded in his chest, his head spinning. The flickering lights were gone. The mysterious realm had vanished. Instead, he was met by the familiar, hateful reality.


    He was lying on the filthy, damp floor of his prison cell. The stench of rotting flesh, spoiled food, and human sweat assaulted his nostrils, nearly triggering his gag reflex.


    But before he could speak, Dalanar¡ªsitting nearby¡ªgawked at him with wide, stunned eyes and pointed at him in shock. And then, something truly strange happened.


    Astar understood his words.


    ¡°What the hell¡­ Fool, did you just break through to the stage of Premarch?! How the hell did you manage that in a pit like this? Did they forget to sever your link to the Source of Memoria?!¡±


    The words still sounded like another language¡ªbut somehow, Astar understood them perfectly. As if he¡¯d been fluent all his life.


    Hearing those words, Astar looked down at himself in shock¡­ At that moment, his body was radiating a faint, shimmering gray mist! And he wasn¡¯t the only one who saw it¡ªevery surrounding prisoner was staring at him in disbelief!

 Chapter 5 — Mnemarchs

    The first rays of sunlight were just beginning to filter into the cell, and there was no way to hide the anomaly in Astar¡¯s body. He stared in shock at himself¡ªhis body was emitting a faint, glowing gray mist. And it wasn¡¯t just him who saw it. Every nearby prisoner had turned to gape at him in disbelief.


    He looked down at his glowing skin, then up at Dalanar, who stood frozen, as if expecting something extraordinary.


    ¡°Shit¡­ a Premarch, for real¡­¡± Dalanar muttered, narrowing his eyes. ¡°Did no one scan you before sending you to the mines?¡± he asked again, suspiciously.


    Astar opened his mouth to respond¡ªbut his thoughts tangled. The words tumbled out on their own, but not in the language he knew. It was the language he¡¯d heard all throughout the mines, but had never once spoken.


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know,¡± he said hoarsely, the unfamiliar tongue flowing naturally. A wave of shock and confusion surged within him.


    Dalanar narrowed his gaze further, as though trying to catch a lie.


    ¡°You were faking this whole time?¡± he asked sharply, his voice dropping into something low and irritated. ¡°You understood me all along and just played the fool?!¡±


    ¡°No, I¡­¡± Astar instinctively touched his throat, panic rising. In that moment, the most believable explanation struck him¡ªamnesia. Focusing, he began to explain, carefully choosing his words.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t remember anything. Not the language, not my past. Just now¡­¡±


    He hesitated, trying to phrase it right.


    ¡°Just now, I remembered how to speak. After what happened to me¡­ a moment ago. I was in some strange place, not in this reeking cell¡­¡±


    He trailed off, still reeling from the confusion.


    Dalanar looked him over skeptically. The tension in his posture remained, but something in his eyes flickered¡ªrecognition, perhaps.


    ¡°Lost your memory? Forgot even the language?¡± he muttered, almost to himself.


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Astar nodded, doing his best to appear sincere. In his mind, he reminded himself that this was the only explanation that could be accepted.


    Dalanar squinted, then said with a mix of caution and reluctant relief, ¡°Alright¡­¡±


    Astar nodded again.


    ¡°Believe it or not, I¡¯m just as shocked,¡± he added, his hands still slightly trembling.


    For a moment, silence settled between them, broken only by the soft rustle of movement in the cell.


    Then, Dalanar suddenly turned toward the other prisoners, his presence shifting into something sharp and commanding. His gaze scorched across the room.


    ¡°Not a word of this gets out! Not one breath about the Fool breaking through!¡± he growled, his voice low and menacing. ¡°If anyone talks¡ªI¡¯ll tear their fucking throat out myself.¡±


    The cell fell into a tense, frozen stillness. Fear thickened the air like smoke. One of the prisoners¡ªa lizard-like humanoid with sharp, angular features¡ªtook a step back, then suddenly, as if triggered, let out a piercing scream.


    ¡°GUARDS! THERE¡¯S A PREM¡ª¡±


    His cry was cut short.


    The nearby prisoners, horror and fury etched on their faces, lunged at him, shoving filthy hands over his mouth, as if trying to smother the betrayal before it reached the world outside.


    ¡°Shuv!¡± Dalanar launched himself forward like a predator. In a single, fluid motion, he leapt at the lizard-man, his hand flashing toward the traitor¡¯s throat.


    With brutal precision, Dalanar struck him in the larynx. A sickening crunch rang out¡ªa wet, bone-snapping sound that made Astar¡¯s blood run cold. The scream dissolved into a gurgling, rasping gasp. The traitor¡¯s eyes bulged as he dropped to his knees, grasping for air that wouldn¡¯t come. Blood sprayed from his mouth, painting the floor and nearby prisoners with red and green.


    The body twitched, then collapsed forward with a loud thud. A dark pool spread beneath it¡ªthick and glistening.


    Astar instinctively turned away, fighting a wave of nausea. The foul stench of the cell, now mixed with the sharp, metallic tang of fresh blood, seared his throat. His hands trembled as he clamped them over his mouth, willing himself not to make a sound.


    ¡°Anyone who dares screw with my plans¡­ will share his fate,¡± Dalanar said coldly. His voice was a whisper of ice, steeped in threat. He straightened, wiped the blood from his face with the back of his hand, and turned toward the rest of the prisoners.


    ¡°If you want to live,¡± he continued, his eyes glinting, ¡°you¡¯ll forget what just happened. Forget the Fool¡¯s breakthrough. Otherwise¡­¡± He jerked his chin toward the bloodied corpse.


    The prisoners, as if under a spell, hastily nodded. Their faces reflected a mix of horror and submission.


    Astar could barely keep his stomach down¡ªhis insides churned with revulsion at the gruesome scene¡ªbut he swallowed the weakness, gritting his teeth. Only one thought echoed in his mind: ¡°Survive. At any cost. No matter the madness around me.¡±


    Dalanar, as if nothing had happened, calmly wiped his hands on the filthy rags covering his body and crouched beside Astar. His gaze had returned to that calm, penetrating stare¡ªthe kind a beast gives when it¡¯s sizing up prey or an opportunity. He leaned in slightly, as if examining a newly found advantage.


    ¡°Well then, talk to me, Fool. What clan are you from?¡± he asked, voice edged with insistence, though not without a note of sympathy. ¡°Since you¡¯re human, you were probably born in the northwest of the continent. I know plenty of human bloodlines and clans¡ªeven the minor ones. Maybe I¡¯ve heard of yours.¡±


    Astar slowly lifted his gaze, trying to fight off the nausea still clawing at his throat.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know,¡± he replied, doing his best to sound believable. ¡°I don¡¯t remember anything. Not my past, not the present, not¡­ my clan. Honestly, I don¡¯t even understand where I am.¡±


    Dalanar frowned slightly, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.


    ¡°Nothing? Not even a hint?¡± he pressed, tilting his head.


    Astar shook his head.


    ¡°The only thing I can recall¡­ is memoria,¡± he said quietly, his voice rough, like someone just waking from a long coma. ¡°The Source of Memoria¡­ the Ancestral Memory. And some kind of strange technique.¡±


    ¡°Technique?¡± Dalanar perked up, his eyes glinting with predatory interest. ¡°What kind?¡±


    Astar hesitated. The memories of the technique were vague, broken, but one thing he remembered clearly was its name.


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t even know what it does,¡± he admitted, choosing his words carefully. ¡°But it¡¯s called the Corruption Devouring Technique.¡±


    ¡°The Corruption Devouring Technique?¡± Dalanar echoed, squinting as if measuring the weight of the words. ¡°Interesting. I know most of the famous techniques created by human clans and bloodlines¡­ but I¡¯ve never heard of yours.¡±


    He leaned back, resting against the wall and crossing his arms, falling into thought.


    ¡°The name sounds grand. Maybe someone slapped a mighty title on something worthless,¡± he muttered.


    After a moment, he shook his head and added:


    ¡°Well, most likely your bloodline was insignificant, or the technique came from a lesser ancestor. Happens all the time¡ªnot everyone¡¯s lucky enough to connect with a powerful forefather. Ha!¡± he laughed, tilting his head. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter! What matters now is that you¡¯ve become a Premarch!¡±


    Astar didn¡¯t respond. He could feel Dalanar staring at him, as though trying to peer into the very core of his soul. For a moment, it seemed like the man could see more than he let on.


    And in that moment, flickers of memory sparked in Astar¡¯s mind¡ªfleeting, like lightning flashes¡ªimages of thousands bowing before a man with a scar across his face¡­ Given what he had seen, he was fairly certain that Dalanar¡¯s comment about a lesser ancestor didn¡¯t line up with reality.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand a damn thing¡­ but better to keep quiet,¡± Astar thought, slowly regaining his mental footing.


    ¡°Listen, Fool,¡± Dalanar said suddenly, his voice carrying a note of something warmer¡ªalmost friendly, something that hadn¡¯t been there before.


    ¡°I remembered my name,¡± Astar interrupted abruptly. ¡°Call me Astar. The nickname Fool doesn¡¯t really suit me.¡±


    Dalanar didn¡¯t object. He simply nodded with a look of understanding. He was brutal and direct, but not a lunatic who bullied without reason.


    ¡°So your name¡¯s Astar¡­¡± he murmured. ¡°Alright, Astar. We¡¯ve got interesting times ahead. And your past? Doesn¡¯t matter now. What matters is what you can do now. And I¡¯ll help you find out exactly what that is.¡± He smiled slightly¡ªbut it was the kind of smile that held more thrill than kindness.


    Astar simply nodded, keeping his thoughts hidden. All he could do now was hold his ground and hope to slowly learn more about this world. Now that he somehow understood the local language, he finally had the means to expand his view of the surrounding madness.


    Dalanar narrowed his eyes, as if weighing something important, then leaned in and began to speak softly¡ªjust loud enough for Astar to hear.


    "Since you¡¯ve become a Premarch, we¡¯ve got a much better chance of getting out of this shithole," Dalanar began, clenching his fingers as if he could already grasp that elusive freedom. "This mine? It¡¯s nowhere near a place of priority. There are no real memoria crystals here¡ªjust scraps of ore they squeeze crumbs from. There are hundreds of mines like this one, barely guarded."


    Astar listened, trying to stay calm even as tension coiled tighter inside him. Was he really talking about an escape? Madness.


    "There are three Gray Mnemarchs inside," Dalanar continued, emphasizing the weight of their rank. "They¡¯re serious opponents, but not invincible. If we create enough chaos, they won¡¯t be able to control the entire prison. And the guards¡ªthose at Warrior level¡ªwill be completely disoriented in the confusion."


    "Sounds like you¡¯ve been planning this for a long time¡­" Astar said cautiously, doing his best to keep his voice level.


    Thinking back, he realized how many times he¡¯d seen Dalanar quietly speaking with prisoners from other cells¡ªwhile eating, while working side by side.


    "More than a year," Dalanar smirked, eyes gleaming with resolve. "But the chances were slim. The people here are crushed and broken. Their strength isn¡¯t even a shadow of what it once was. Even if we made it outside, the abyssals would tear us apart. Or at least, they would have¡ªif not for your breakthrough. Ha!"


    Astar said nothing. The idea of escape seemed absurdly dangerous, but a part of his mind surged at the thought of freedom. He had spent his whole life working, grinding, taking risks just to achieve independence and a life of peace. Being a mine slave? That was never going to cut it.


    But there were still so many things he didn¡¯t understand¡­ And before he could ask, Dalanar pressed on:


    "We have a chance now. Your breakthrough¡ªthat¡¯s the signal to act," he said confidently, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips. "If we don¡¯t try now, there might not be another opportunity. I¡¯ve been preparing for this¡ªmapping weaknesses in patrols, analyzing shift routes, crafting a plan. But we lacked the power to push past the protective barrier. Now? We have it."


    "What if something goes wrong?" Astar asked, his voice faltering. He knew that in their position, any move was like leaping off a cliff blindfolded. Back on Earth, he¡¯d been brave. Here¡­ his mind was struggling to cope.


    "Then we die," Dalanar replied coldly with a shrug. "But is that worse than rotting here for the rest of your life?" He leaned in, his voice lowering to a whisper. "You said you don¡¯t remember your past? Then forget this place too¡ªand start over. Show me what you¡¯re capable of."


    The words rang like a challenge¡ªone impossible to ignore.


    Astar exhaled slowly, fighting through the whirlwind in his head. Bits of thoughts, broken memories, and the chaos of this terrifying new world all clashed inside him. He looked up at Dalanar, who seemed ready to launch a rebellion at any moment.


    "Wait," Astar said, steadying his tone. "I need to understand¡­ my role. Who are the Gray Mnemarchs? What are these abyssals you mentioned? And this¡­ barrier¡ª"


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    He paused, trying to find the right words so he didn¡¯t sound like a complete fool.


    "¡ªWhat kind of barrier do we have to get past?"


    Dalanar frowned, and for a moment, something like doubt flickered in his eyes.


    "Are you serious?" he asked, leaning back, studying Astar¡¯s face intently. "You don¡¯t remember even that?"


    "Nothing at all," Astar admitted, the tension rising again inside him. "All of this sounds like madness to me¡­ I don¡¯t even know what the world looks like outside these walls." He hesitated, then added, "Or where we even are."


    Dalanar straightened sharply, his face shifting into something between sympathy and gravity. He looked as though he was weighing how to explain the most basic truths.


    He sighed and closed his eyes briefly.


    "What do you know?" he asked, just to be sure.


    "That there¡¯s something called memoria in this world¡ªsome kind of energy or substance," Astar began, trying to piece together the fragments he''d been given. "That it comes from the Source of Memoria¡­ and that all living beings receive their soul from it. And after death, the soul returns to that source. And¡­ that descendants can gain parts of their ancestors¡¯ memories?"


    Hearing that, Dalanar exhaled heavily and started to speak again.


    "Alright, listen up. In this world, memoria is the foundation of everything. Almost all living things can use it, at least on a basic level. But there are those who can develop it¡ªfill their bodies and souls with it. When they reach a certain threshold, they become Mnemarchs."


    He paused, his voice tightening slightly.


    "Gray Mnemarchs are those who¡¯ve crossed the boundary of mortality¡­ the beginning of the Mnemarch¡¯s path."


    At that moment, something inside Astar shifted. Old instincts seemed to click into place. It felt like a problem had arisen in one of his marketing campaigns¡ªsomething he had to assess quickly, distill into the core issue, and fix. In moments like those, emotions were a hindrance. You had to be sharp, clear, decisive.


    And now, that part of his mind¡ªthe strategist, the survivor¡ªbegan to awaken.


    "Can you explain where you and I fall in the power hierarchy?" Astar asked clearly and directly.


    Even Dalanar looked mildly surprised at the shift¡ªbut it clearly pleased him, because he smiled and replied:


    "Alright, let¡¯s put it this way... At the bottom are all mortals who either use memoria only at a basic level, or don¡¯t use it at all. Above them are the Warriors, who can channel a bit more memoria to enhance small parts of their body. All our guards are basically that," he began, laying it all out in logical order. "Next comes a sort of intermediate stage¡ªthe one you¡¯ve just reached. Beings like you are called Premarchs¡ªthose who have gathered enough memoria to connect with the Source of Memoria and, if lucky, receive the memories of an ancestor. You went through a natural initiation. If you focus your attention on the space between your brows, you should be able to see your Soul Vault."


    Astar tensed. That definitely aligned with the sensations he¡¯d experienced before¡­


    "So not everyone receives ancestral memories? And how does the choice of ancestor happen?" he asked thoughtfully.


    "Usually only those with high potential can form a connection like that. I''d say about a third of all Premarchs succeed. As for how the ancestor is chosen... I believe it''s all about resonance¡ªthe character and essence of the ancestor and the successor have to be compatible. Then the connection forms."


    After thinking for a moment, Astar closed his eyes and followed the advice. Dalanar, clearly understanding the natural curiosity that came with awakening one¡¯s Soul Vault, fell silent.


    Within seconds, Astar¡¯s awareness drifted elsewhere. His consciousness opened to an inner space¡ªa realm of darkness pierced with gentle twinkles like distant stars. It resembled the Source of Memoria he''d seen before, but here the central focus was a swirling blue-white nebula. It spun like a miniature galaxy, wrapped in stillness and mystery. It was the vortex of memoria he had absorbed throughout his time in the mines.


    But the strangest part of this silent place was the black tablet floating nearby. Its surface was cold, matte, and emitted a faint vibration, as though the void itself pulsed with its rhythm. Strange glyphs were etched clearly into its surface¡ªglyphs Astar understood. They read:


    "Corruption Devouring Technique."


    ¡°Holy shit¡­ I really did receive that bizarre technique. And now it¡¯s just¡­ stuck in my head forever?¡± Astar thought, unsure how to even process it.


    ¡°They said I had to activate it¡­ but how?¡± he thought, guessing he needed to feed it memoria.


    At that moment, the swirling nebula near him responded, releasing a bright strand of white energy that floated toward the technique. But as soon as it touched the tablet, it let out a faint sizzle¡ªand nothing happened.


    "Guess that¡¯s not it..." he muttered to himself mentally. "Dammit, how do I get back to reality?"


    Instantly, glowing currents began to whirl around him, and the space wavered like water in the wind. The feeling of weightlessness shifted into a sudden drop¡ªand then a sharp jolt, like someone yanked him back into his body.


    Astar¡¯s eyes flew open. Light and sound flooded in as if a curtain had been ripped away. His consciousness slammed back into his physical form, leaving behind only the memory of that weightless state. Apparently, the process of entering and exiting the ¡°Soul Vault¡± wasn¡¯t all that difficult¡ªit seemed tied directly to his will.


    "Shall we continue?" Dalanar asked with a grin.


    Astar didn¡¯t reply¡ªhe just nodded.


    "I used to be a Premarch too," Dalanar went on. "But when I was captured, my link to the Source of Memoria was severed. Now I¡¯m more on the level of a Warrior. To regain my strength, I¡¯ll need to escape first¡ªthen spend a long time recovering."


    "Premarchs are far stronger than regular Warriors," he continued. "They can infuse memoria into their entire body. More than that, a small amount even begins to leak out of them."


    "By building up memoria and using Memoria-Cultivation Techniques, Premarchs begin forming a core within their Soul Vault. When that happens, even more memoria starts to flow outward. You can start attacking from a distance," he added, gesturing animatedly to demonstrate. "That core becomes the foundation for further growth. That¡¯s when one becomes a Mnemarch. The weakest of them are called Gray Mnemarchs."


    "The weakest?" Astar echoed.


    "Of course. Gray Mnemarch is the start of the path beyond mortal limits. After them come the Blue Mnemarchs, then the Violet Mnemarchs," he rattled off. "There are two more stages after that, but those are closer to legend¡ªwe don¡¯t even bother talking about them..."


    Upon hearing all this, Astar¡¯s head was spinning. He didn¡¯t understand much, but he could clearly feel something inside him had changed¡ªand those changes felt... incredible. And now he was being told that there were things in this strange world even more wondrous?


    "Can you explain the limits of my power and the power of the Mnemarchs more clearly? I don¡¯t quite understand what they¡¯re capable of¡­" Astar murmured thoughtfully.


    Dalanar answered with a strange counter-question:


    "Do you remember what a city is?"


    Laser-focused on the conversation, Astar didn¡¯t falter.


    "I think I do... It¡¯s a place where many beings live together, not trapped like we are now. There are streets and houses¡­" he mumbled, piecing it together.


    "Right. I asked to see if you¡¯d understand my examples," Dalanar said with a smirk. "At your current level, you can probably tear through the metal bars of this cell, break through a wall, or smash down a tree. Now, as for Gray Mnemarchs¡ªtheir attacks can affect a wider area. Using combat techniques and external manipulation of memoria, they can easily level a small house. And Blue Mnemarchs? They could tear down several houses at once¡ªor flatten an entire city block."


    Hearing this, Astar shook his head in disbelief. Everything Dalanar said sounded like fantasy. According to him, the power of a Blue Mnemarch equaled a massive explosion capable of destroying multiple buildings. Astar couldn¡¯t even imagine what that would look like, or if it was real at all. But for some reason, something within him stirred¡ªan interest, even a flicker of excitement.


    ¡°If I¡¯d been born in this world¡­ maybe the path of a Mnemarch would¡¯ve tempted me,¡± he thought, surprisingly.


    It seemed Dalanar had no intention of describing the higher stages of Mnemarchs¡ªbut based on how the power scaled, Astar wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to imagine it anyway.


    "Now about the abyssals," Dalanar continued, his face darkening. "They¡¯re creatures born of abyssia¡ªa substance that¡¯s the opposite of memoria. No one knows where it came from or why it¡¯s slowly consuming entire regions of the continent. But the creatures it spawns¡­ they¡¯re pure nightmare. Mindlessly cruel. They kill anything that moves¡ªso they can devour its power, and with it, its soul."


    "They¡¯re everywhere¡ªbut they don¡¯t come inside cities, or places like this mine. Because they¡¯re held back by memoria barriers. And the second we escape¡­ we¡¯re going to face them."


    "Wait," Astar interrupted, frowning. "Outside the barrier? So we¡¯re under¡­ some kind of dome?"


    "Exactly," Dalanar nodded. "A barrier made of memoria protects us from abyssals. It¡¯s maintained by sacred structures called Temples of Memoria. Each temple is created and maintained by the Church of Memoria, and they require constant resources. Without them, the world would fall into chaos. But to escape¡­ we¡¯ll have to step outside that protection. And out there¡ª" he pointed at Astar, "you¡¯re our best shot. All we need to do is reach the nearest city and its barrier."


    Astar tried to digest all he had just heard. His head throbbed from all the new terms and the terrifying descriptions.


    "And you¡¯re sure this will work?" he finally asked, his voice laced with more skepticism than belief.


    Dalanar leaned in closer, his expression growing solemn.


    "I know this much: either we try, or we rot here. You choose which sounds better," he said, then added after a pause, "The path from this mine to the nearest city is classified as only third-level danger. There shouldn¡¯t be any abyssals stronger than a Premarch."


    Astar gave a silent nod. One thought pounded in his mind: ¡°A choice? What choice? I want my freedom!¡±


    He shut his eyes, trying to make sense of the whirlwind of information. His mind, trained to break problems into parts and find solutions, began compressing the chaos into manageable clusters. ¡°Memoria. The Source of Memoria. Ancestral Memory. Mnemarchs. Temples. Barriers. Abyssals. Escape plan¡­¡±


    ¡°Alright¡­ Maybe it¡¯ll help to think of this in medieval terms. Though I don¡¯t even know what this world really looks like. Doesn¡¯t seem anything like modern Earth¡­¡± he reasoned inwardly, trying to find logical footholds.


    He took a deep breath, then opened his eyes¡ªand met Dalanar¡¯s steady gaze.


    "Let¡¯s say I agree," he began, trying to keep his tone even. "We escape, we reach the nearest city. But we¡¯re prisoners. What¡¯s to stop the city¡¯s authorities from locking us up¡ªor worse, executing us on sight?"


    Dalanar chuckled, as if he¡¯d expected that question. His expression softened slightly, though his grin still had a predatory edge.


    "A good question, Astar," he admitted, scooting in a little. "But that¡¯s where you can rely on me. You see, I wasn¡¯t always just some stray prisoner. I used to lead a small, dangerous crew. We hunted weak abyssals and sold their cores. Sometimes¡­ we took on less savory jobs too, if the coin was good¡­ That¡¯s exactly why I¡¯m here, ha-ha. In any case, I¡¯ve been expected in the nearest city for a long time now. My people are waiting for their leader to return."


    ¡°You sure about that?¡± Astar frowned. ¡°It¡¯s been what, a year?¡±


    ¡°A year and three months,¡± Dalanar replied easily. ¡°And yes, I¡¯m sure. My people know what loyalty means. We were planning a big job when I got captured. But I left very specific instructions in case something went wrong. They were to go underground, lay low, and watch. As soon as we reach the city¡¯s outskirts, they¡¯ll be there. And they won¡¯t just greet us. They¡¯ll give us clothes, hide us, and help us disappear.¡±


    Astar felt a bit of tension ease in his chest. Dalanar¡¯s plan sounded wildly risky¡ªbut it wasn¡¯t senseless. Still, doubts lingered inside him.


    ¡°What¡¯s to stop them from turning us in to the authorities for a reward?¡± he asked, closely watching Dalanar¡¯s reaction.


    Dalanar¡¯s grin widened, turning almost sinister.


    ¡°That thought¡¯s never crossed their minds. They know I keep my word. And they know I don¡¯t forgive betrayal. If they ever planned something like that, they¡¯d already be rotting in some nameless ditch.¡±


    His tone was calm, but the icy conviction in his voice made Astar shiver. Instinctively, he glanced toward the corpse slumped in the corner of the cell¡ªthe one Dalanar had killed without blinking. The expression of terror frozen on the man¡¯s face said it all¡­


    ¡°Alright,¡± Astar said after a pause. ¡°Let¡¯s say your people do help us. Then what? We just hide?¡±


    ¡°At first, yes,¡± Dalanar nodded. ¡°We lay low, gather resources, recover our strength. After that¡­ we¡¯ll see. Since you don¡¯t remember anything, you could join my group, Astar. We¡¯ll make some coin, and then slip off to another city¡ªsomewhere no one knows us. But for now, survival is the only priority.¡±


    Astar gave a silent nod. His mind kept racing. If they escaped¡­ if the group actually existed¡­ if the path to the city wasn¡¯t too dangerous¡­ if the abyssals didn¡¯t attack¡ª


    Too many ifs. But something deep in his gut told him the risk was worth it. Truthfully, he had no other choice.


    Astar frowned, sorting through scenarios in his head. It all sounded like madness¡ªbarriers, abyssals, people waiting for them beyond the city¡¯s edge. But what worried him most was what would happen if the plan failed.


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± he said cautiously. ¡°But what if the abyssals do attack? I¡­ I don¡¯t remember how to fight,¡± he admitted, trying to keep his voice steady, even though he felt completely helpless inside. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what to do in a situation like that.¡±


    Dalanar let out a dry snort, but there was no cruelty in his gaze.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s not exactly great news,¡± he said, scratching his chin, ¡°but it¡¯s not the end of the world either. Listen, Astar, we don¡¯t need you for finesse or clever tactics. If the abyssals show up, your job¡¯s simple¡ªbreak through their defense and kill. We¡¯ll distract them, and you just hit as hard as you can. Ideally¡ªwith a pickaxe, right in the skull.¡±


    ¡°A pickaxe?¡± Astar repeated in disbelief. The image Dalanar painted seemed absurd.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Dalanar nodded. ¡°Abyssals have tough bodies, but as a Premarch, your strength far surpasses a mortal¡¯s. For us, a pickaxe is the best weapon we¡¯ve got¡ªunless we manage to steal swords from the guards. The key is, don¡¯t hesitate. One strike to the head or neck, and most low-tier creatures will die.¡±


    ¡°And if they don¡¯t?¡± Astar asked flatly, his questions opening the door to ever more horrors.


    ¡°Then you hit them again,¡± Dalanar said with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. ¡°But you¡¯ll be surprised by what you can do now.¡± He leaned in, his expression serious. ¡°A Premarch¡¯s strike is no joke. You¡¯ll smash their skulls faster than you can realize what you¡¯ve done. So don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ll handle the distraction¡ªyou just focus on delivering the blow.¡±


    Astar stayed silent, absorbing it all. Every part of him wanted to reject this insane plan¡ªbut his rational mind knew there was no alternative.


    ¡°And don¡¯t forget,¡± Dalanar added with a sly grin, ¡°if anything goes wrong, I¡¯ll be right there watching. I won¡¯t let you screw up our one shot at freedom. On the contrary¡ªyou¡¯re our golden ticket out of this hell.¡±


    The words were a strange mix of threat and encouragement, but Astar simply nodded. All he could do now was hope he truly could pull it off.


    He nodded again, forcing himself to commit. He understood that his decision didn¡¯t just affect his own life¡ªit carried the hopes of the other prisoners too. Despite the danger, Dalanar¡¯s plan was the only light in the madness surrounding him.


    ¡°Alright,¡± he said quietly. ¡°I¡¯ll do what I can.¡±


    Dalanar nodded with clear satisfaction, as if that was exactly what he¡¯d been waiting to hear.


    ¡°Good, Astar,¡± he said, then added with a faint smile, ¡°but for now, keep acting like before. Play the mute fool. If you suddenly start spouting clever thoughts, the guards will start asking questions¡ªand that¡¯s the last thing we need.¡±


    Astar nodded once more. Now that he could understand the local language, playing the fool felt somewhat humiliating¡ªbut he understood that maintaining his cover was far more important.


    ¡°And don¡¯t forget to keep sucking on those rocks,¡± Dalanar added with a smirk. ¡°Everyone¡¯s already too used to your weird little routine, ha-ha.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± Astar replied dryly, forcing himself to return to that blissfully vacant expression.


    Dalanar straightened up, his face turning serious.


    ¡°Since things are heating up,¡± he said, glancing around the cell, ¡°I¡¯m going to accelerate the plan. I need to contact the other cells. We already have a few arrangements in place, but there hasn¡¯t been a good moment¡ªuntil now. When everything¡¯s ready, I¡¯ll let you know.¡±


    Astar noticed Dalanar¡¯s voice grow quieter, and his eyes scanned the room, gauging the mood of the others.


    ¡°The lizard was new¡ªhe didn¡¯t know anything. But everyone else in this cell is in on it. So remember,¡± he continued, ¡°if any outsider starts getting suspicious, we¡¯re finished. Don¡¯t draw attention to yourself.¡±


    Astar nodded a third time, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing down on his shoulders. He tried to calm himself, reminding his mind that this was just another task to complete. Only this time, the stakes were life and death¡ªhe had never gambled everything like this before. This time, the cost of failure was far too high to take lightly.

 Chapter 6 — The Escape

    The next day, Astar, keeping calm just as Dalanar had instructed, made his way to the mines. He played his role to perfection¡ªhis face wore the same vacant indifference, he muttered incomprehensibly as if trying to recall something, and lazily sucked on a rock he¡¯d picked up on the way to the communal shaft, maintaining the persona everyone had grown used to.


    When he first picked up the pickaxe, it felt lighter than usual. But he dismissed it, chalking it up to his effort not to draw attention. However, the moment he struck the rock wall, he froze in shock.


    BAAM!


    A thunderous crash erupted, so loud that several nearby prisoners instinctively looked up. The chunk of stone before Astar didn¡¯t just crack¡ªit exploded into fragments, scattering shrapnel across him and those nearby.


    He stared at the shattered debris in disbelief. His breathing quickened, but he forced himself to suppress the shock. Around him, startled whispers began to stir.


    ¡°What the hell¡­¡±


    ¡°What did he just do?¡±


    ¡°Quiet,¡± one of the inmates hissed sharply¡ªone who knew of Dalanar¡¯s plan. His eyes met Astar¡¯s, and he gave a subtle nod, urging him to continue as if nothing had happened.


    Astar wrestled back control over his emotions and acted like everything was fine. He raised the pickaxe again, though inside, his mind was screaming in a mix of awe and fear.


    ¡°What the hell is this?! Can a person really be this strong?¡± he thought, struggling to keep his face calm. ¡°Is this the strength of a Premarch that Dalanar talked about yesterday? It¡¯s absurd¡­ Can I get even stronger? No¡ªthis isn¡¯t the time...¡±


    The next strike was more cautious, but even then, the rock split apart as if it were brittle glass. This time, Astar could feel the power coursing through him, filling him with a deep sense of control. His muscles moved with fluid precision, like a perfectly calibrated machine, and the effort he applied felt almost effortless.


    ¡°Dalanar was right. This¡­ this is more than I ever imagined. I really could punch through a wall if I wanted. Were there even people on Earth with this kind of physical strength? It¡¯s not just about the force of the blow¡ªbut the resilience of the body¡­ Before, hard hits would tear my skin and rattle my bones. But now...¡±


    Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a few other prisoners still casting stunned glances his way, though most had returned to work. Realizing the guards hadn¡¯t noticed anything, Astar clenched his jaw and forced himself to work at his usual pace, carefully measuring the force of each swing.


    ¡°So¡­ am I still human? Or a human with supernatural strength?¡± he wondered. ¡°But what is this strength? And how does it even work? If I survive this escape, I have to figure it out... And more importantly, it¡¯s likely that everything happening is directly tied to my parents...¡± he thought, unconsciously tightening his grip on the pickaxe.


    The day before had brought a storm of revelations, and he hadn¡¯t been able to sleep at all. He¡¯d spent the night thinking about himself, about the situation, and above all¡ªabout his origins. No matter how much he tried to resist the thought, the childhood pain still lingered deep inside. And now, with the growing possibility that his parents had been something other than what he believed all his life¡­ something inside him had cracked.


    ¡°Should I really dig into that?¡± he wondered, as if trying to convince himself that he didn¡¯t want to know anything about them.


    The very next moment, he shook his head and mentally snapped at himself: "Astar, what the hell are you even thinking right now?! First, we survive¡ªthen we worry about my useless parents!"


    He glanced at Dalanar from the corner of his eye. The man was watching him from a distance, gave a slight nod, and even allowed the hint of a smile to surface, as if to say, ¡°You¡¯re doing well.¡±


    Astar went back to digging, but there was a new fire burning inside him. The power now coursing through his body gave him hope that he might actually escape this hell. The rest could come later. He knew well: "Until the immediate crisis is resolved, there''s no point thinking about the storms beyond. Everything must be dealt with step by step."


    For the next two weeks, Astar stuck to his routine religiously, careful not to draw attention. He dug for crystals, sucked on tiny fragments found in the discarded rubble, and maintained the same empty, vacant look on his face. Every movement was calculated, every glance measured. He knew full well that even the smallest mistake could unravel Dalanar¡¯s meticulously constructed plan.


    Whole crystals, though tempting, remained untouched. Astar understood: if he tried to steal even one, it would endanger not just him, but everyone involved.


    "Hold yourself together," he reminded himself every time a glimmer of a chance presented itself. "Freedom matters more than anything. Your goal isn¡¯t the crystals. It¡¯s getting out of here."


    Still, his thoughts weren¡¯t consumed by survival alone. In rare moments of solitude, he tried to figure out how to activate the Corruption Devouring Technique he had inherited from that mysterious ancestor. The knowledge came to him like scattered puzzle pieces¡ªnever quite forming a full picture.


    Through careful, cautious conversations with Dalanar, he gathered that the technique needed to be infused with memoria. But no matter how many times he tried, something always felt off. It was as if the technique refused to yield to him.


    "How the hell do I activate this cursed thing?" he wondered, sitting on the damp floor of the cell. But no answer ever came.


    The only thing he could clearly feel was the memoria itself, flowing through his body like warm currents. Astar suspected it was accumulating in his Soul Vault, slowly condensing toward the formation of a core. But according to Dalanar, without a technique to guide the process, doing so was nearly impossible. A proper technique could channel the collected memoria in the right direction, triggering transformation.


    "I need more time," he thought. "And maybe someone out there who can explain how all this actually works. After all, Dalanar never made it past the Premarch stage¡ªhe was like me..."


    At one point, Astar even considered experimenting on his own, trying to develop a method to concentrate and form the core manually. After all, there had to be some logic to the process. But he abandoned the idea almost immediately¡ªwhat if he screwed it up and lost the ability to cultivate the Devouring Blight Technique properly?


    Truthfully, in this strange world, that technique was his only real asset¡ªthe one tool he had for building a future. Whatever the situation, Astar had begun to realize that he now stood a step above common mortals. And that meant one thing: with determination and discipline, he could carve out freedom and prosperity for himself, even in a world gone mad.


    Much as he hoped otherwise, he was starting to accept that he couldn¡¯t return to Earth. That realization was slowly cementing itself in his mind. He could still hear the strange voice from the day he was transported into this world:


    "The power of the Multiversal Book of Memoria has been exhausted. You can no longer remain safe... Forgive us, son. We hope you¡¯ll uncover the truth¡­"


    "Whatever that Book is¡­ Maybe it¡¯s what brought me to Earth. And if that voice really was my father," he thought bitterly, "then all he did was warn me that the Book had run dry. So it held me there? Kept me hidden? Great¡­ does that mean I have to start from scratch all over again?"


    Each day, impatience stirred deeper within him, laced with a quiet unease. His mind brimmed with escape strategies, yes¡ªbut also questions, and no answers in sight. "What will I do after we break out? Join Dalanar¡¯s gang? Try to learn more about this world and trace my roots? Or maybe use the knowledge from Earth to build some quiet corner for myself and just live in peace?"


    But for now, every morning he rose, picked up his pickaxe, and went into the mines, keeping his calm. The labor gave him a break from the endless flood of questions, and the power that flowed through his veins became a quiet source of motivation. He could feel it: he was ready for anything¡ªthough he still didn¡¯t know what exactly lay ahead.


    At dawn one morning, when the air still clung with dampness and stone rot, Astar noticed Dalanar slipping toward him. His face was unusually serious, eyes flashing with resolve. Without a word of greeting, he leaned in and whispered:


    "Today. The revolt starts this shift."


    Astar felt his heart skip a beat. He nodded silently, doing his best not to show the sudden wave of tension rising inside him.


    "Listen carefully," Dalanar continued, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Once the chaos starts, stay close to me. We have a shared interest here: the longer you stay alive, the better my chances of making it out. You and I¡ªwe''re each other¡¯s best insurance."


    "Are you sure about the escape routes?" Astar asked, forcing his voice to remain calm, though a storm was raging inside him.


    "Yes," Dalanar replied curtly. "I¡¯ve studied the paths and weak points. There are several routes that can lead us out. But remember¡ªthere¡¯ll be multiple groups. Each one will try to slip away in their own direction. I can¡¯t vouch for the others, but if you stay with me, your chances of surviving go way up."


    Astar nodded, recognizing the logic.


    "And after that?" he asked.


    "After?" Dalanar smirked. "Then we cross the memoria barrier. That¡¯s where you¡¯ll be essential. The abyssals won¡¯t let us go that easily¡ªbut with you, we¡¯ve got a shot. After that, my people will be waiting. They¡¯ll help us disappear, give us clothes, shelter us until things quiet down."


    Astar exhaled slowly, realizing just how much lay ahead. The uprising, the guards, the abyssals¡­ and then the attempt to slip beyond a new barrier.


    "I understand," he said at last. "When do we start?"


    "As soon as the shift begins," Dalanar answered. "The overseers won¡¯t suspect a thing until the first strike. Be ready. And remember, stay close to me. This is about brains, not just brawn."


    He straightened, casting Astar a final, meaningful look before heading off to speak with others, clearly relaying the same plan. It seemed the uprising had the interest of many. Naturally, the other cells had their own leaders with slightly different visions of escape¡ªthat¡¯s why there would be multiple groups.


    Astar stayed where he was, absorbing what he¡¯d just heard. It was real now. No longer just plans and waiting, but action. His mind kicked into high gear, breaking down the coming chaos into stages, anticipating problems before they happened. "Stay with Dalanar," he reminded himself. "And be ready for anything."


    He clenched his fists, bracing for what could be either his last day alive¡­ or the first step toward freedom. A new freedom, in a world utterly alien and unknown.


    The day began as always: prisoners exiting their cells, taking their work positions, barked orders from the guards. Astar picked up his pickaxe and paused, uncertain, before heading to his designated zone. But this time, unnoticed by those around him, he shifted slowly closer to Dalanar, keeping a careful eye on everything.


    His heart pounded harder than usual, but he forced himself to appear relaxed. Just another broken slave. The mute fool. The role he¡¯d played for weeks now might be the very thing that saved his life.


    The mine buzzed with the rhythmic clang of pickaxes, murmured conversations, and the occasional mocking laugh from overseers who hurled insults at the prisoners. Astar could feel the tension in the air rising¡ªlike the stillness before a storm. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Dalanar continuing to work with feigned laziness, clearly waiting for the signal.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Then the moment came. One of the overseers, chuckling at another crude joke, turned his back on a nearby group of prisoners.


    "Let¡¯s show these bastards!" someone screamed. "No more of this!"


    Suddenly, shouts erupted from across the mine. Work stopped. Metal screeched, pickaxes swung, and the prisoners lunged at their oppressors.


    "It¡¯s begun," Dalanar growled, nudging Astar with his elbow. "Stay close!"


    Chaos exploded through the mine. Groups of slaves, armed with pickaxes, stones, even broken wood, surged forward, shouting and flailing. The guards, caught off guard, tried to hold their ground, but there were too few of them. Reinforcements would come¡ªbut every overseer was only at the Warrior stage. It wouldn¡¯t take long for them to regain control.


    The window of opportunity was narrow. They had to move fast.


    Astar stuck close to Dalanar, who navigated through the pandemonium with sharp confidence¡ªuntil something made Astar freeze in place. From a distant corridor, three men emerged in full armor, holding spears. Their presence radiated strength and certainty, and their bodies were wreathed in dense gray mist¡ªfar thicker than what Astar had ever seen around himself.


    It was memoria¡ªpouring out of them like a living force.


    "Gray Mnemarchs," Dalanar whispered, clutching Astar¡¯s shoulder. "That¡¯s them."


    Astar didn¡¯t even have time to react before the three men moved at once. One of them raised his hand, and the gray mist instantly shifted to a deep, dark blue. A shimmering vortex of energy burst from his palm, crashing into a group of prisoners within a five-meter radius¡ªhurling them against the stone walls with sickening crunches.


    The second Mnemarch clenched his fist, and his memoria flared into something that resembled fire. In an instant, his body was wreathed in flames that surged toward the nearest slaves, scorching their flesh as they screamed.


    The third moved faster than the eye could follow, dashing through the crowd like a blur, striking with each movement. Each blow was accompanied by flashes of light and thunderous cracks. His memoria had turned pure white¡­


    It seemed that memoria only initially revealed a Mnemarch¡¯s development stage¡ªonce a technique was activated, its appearance and attributes changed.


    "How are they doing that¡­" Astar whispered in shock, watching the chaos unfold. "That¡¯s¡­ unbelievable."


    "Welcome to reality," Dalanar snapped, pulling him from his trance. "We have to move while they¡¯re distracted with the crowd. If they focus on us, we¡¯re dead. And remember, Astar¡ªyour strength is the key. You can¡¯t take on the Gray Mnemarchs, but you can help deal with the overseers. Just don¡¯t get reckless. Got it?"


    Astar nodded, gritting his teeth. He could feel adrenaline flooding his veins, his muscles tensing, his senses sharpening. Every movement now carried weight.


    He and Dalanar, using the riot as cover, dashed toward one of the mine¡¯s inner corridors¡ªa route always forbidden to the slaves. It was guarded tightly, the overseers coming and going from it as if guarding something vital.


    About thirty more prisoners joined them in the rush. The expressions of those around him¡ªhuman and nonhuman alike¡ªwere a mix of fear and grim resolve. They all knew what was at stake.


    Screams and the clamor of battle filled the cavern, growing louder with every step. Overseers from across the mine were regrouping and ruthlessly crushing the uprising. Their strikes were brutal and precise, their armor shrugging off the weak blows from pickaxes. Blood now stained the stone walls, and the sound of combat drowned out all but one''s own thoughts.


    "Move!" Dalanar shouted, barely dodging chunks of flying debris. "If we slow down, we¡¯ll be trampled like the rest!"


    Astar pushed himself forward, jaw clenched. He tried not to look back¡ªbut out of the corner of his eye, he saw overseers and Gray Mnemarchs systematically crushing the resistance. Colored gales and magical flares tore through the crowd like a storm of chaos.


    At last, they broke into the corridor. The roar of the mine dulled behind them, replaced by the echo of their urgent footfalls. Astar felt fear recede slightly, only to be replaced by a thick tension coiling in his gut.


    "Faster!" someone shouted nearby.


    But less than a minute later, their path was blocked.


    Three armored men stood ahead, swords drawn, glinting in the torchlight. They all bore the same features¡ªred skin, and horns jutting from their foreheads. Same race. Same threat.


    "Dead men," one of them said coldly, then raised his blade. "No one escapes the mine."


    His words sounded like a sentence. But the prisoners didn¡¯t stop.


    With screams of rage, the rebels surged forward, pickaxes held high. Metal rang out. Blow after blow. Some fell instantly. Others fought with desperate fury.


    "Astar!" Dalanar roared, turning back. "Don¡¯t just stand there¡ªhit them!"


    "How?!" Astar shouted, frozen, fear gripping his limbs.


    "With everything you¡¯ve got! Hit them with the damn pickaxe! You¡¯re stronger than they are¡ªuse it!"


    Astar held his breath and gripped the pick tighter. He charged, legs driven by adrenaline. One of the guards was fending off several prisoners when an exchange knocked his sword high into the air¡ªleaving his chest exposed.


    "Screw it! Just hit!" Astar screamed in his head, pouring all his courage into motion.


    He swung. The pickaxe, as if guided by some unseen force, slammed into the guard¡¯s armor.


    BAAM!


    The sickening crunch echoed in the corridor as the metal caved like foil. The guard howled in pain and flew backward, crashing into another man and sending both to the ground.


    "Again!" Dalanar shouted, locking blades with the third guard. "Finish him!"


    Astar stood frozen, staring at his weapon, stunned at what he¡¯d just done. His blow had pierced reinforced armor with ease. The guard¡¯s chest had caved inward¡ªhis ribs audibly shattered.


    Nausea surged. "I¡­ I actually did that? How is this even possible?" he thought, legs trembling.


    "Astar, damn it!" Dalanar bellowed, hearing more guards rushing from deeper within the tunnels. "Don¡¯t freeze¡ªhit him!"


    Astar¡¯s eyes shifted to the last guard, who was staggering, off-balance.


    Hit, a voice inside him urged. "If you don¡¯t, you¡¯ll die."


    Something inside flipped like a switch. Astar charged.


    He raised the pickaxe again, every muscle straining. His eyes flickered with a faint gray glow, and a subtle mist formed around his body.


    Everything in him screamed against it¡ªbut he threw the strike with all his strength. The pickaxe howled through the air and slammed into the guard¡¯s head.


    The sound that followed was unforgettable¡ªa crack of bone and a wet squelch, like raw meat crushed in a fist.


    "Crunch! Shhuuv!" the guard¡¯s head quite literally exploded, spraying blood across the walls and floor of the cavern. Bone fragments and chunks of flesh scattered in every direction, splattering the nearest prisoners.


    Astar froze, still clutching the pickaxe¡¯s handle. For a few breathless moments, everything around him fell silent¡ªas if the entire world paused to await his reaction. He stood there, unable to believe what he¡¯d done, and then suddenly dropped to his knees.


    "Buueh¡­" A strangled moan escaped his throat. He couldn¡¯t hold back the nausea. His body convulsed, and the contents of his stomach spilled onto the ground. In his mind¡¯s eye, the image of the shattered skull refused to fade.


    "Get up, idiot!" Dalanar grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him upright. "We don¡¯t have time for weakness! You wanna live or die in this pit? Make up your damn mind!"


    Shaking, Astar rose to his feet, trying to purge the horror from his mind. His legs trembled, but he forced himself to take a step. Then another.


    "I¡­ I can do it," he muttered, gripping the pickaxe so hard his knuckles went white.


    "That¡¯s more like it," Dalanar growled, giving a brutal kick to a fallen comrade who clearly wasn¡¯t getting up¡ªhis injuries were too severe. "I need you alive, Astar! If you die, who the hell is going to kill the abyssals?"


    Without giving himself room to think, Astar clenched his jaw and followed the others pushing deeper into the passageway. Blood, chaos, and terror surrounded him, and the memory of what he¡¯d just done branded itself into his mind.


    Everything that followed became a blur. His consciousness, rattled by trauma, slipped into a kind of haze, leaving only instinct behind. He followed Dalanar¡¯s commands, ran where he was told, struck when needed. Every new enemy they encountered met the same fate. Astar didn¡¯t think. He didn¡¯t feel. He just acted.


    His pickaxe splintered under the sheer force of his blows. One guard, then another, then another¡­ He kept switching weapons, picking them up from the floor or from fallen allies. Over time, the remaining prisoners armed themselves with scavenged swords. They fought side by side, cutting their way forward. With each clash, the path grew clearer¡ªbut the sights around them only grew more gruesome.


    Screams of agony, metal on stone, the blinding flashes of overseers¡¯ techniques¡ªit all blended into a single roar. Astar could barely make out the faces of those still fighting. His mind refused to absorb the reality, as if shielding itself from madness.


    At some point, he realized their numbers had dwindled. Many had fallen beneath the guards¡¯ blows. But those who remained pressed on. Dalanar stayed at his side, his voice an anchor pulling Astar back toward awareness.


    "Faster! We¡¯re almost outside!" he shouted, beheading one of the guards with a brutal slash. Even now, Dalanar still possessed the power of a Warrior, and his battle instincts were razor-sharp.


    And then, as if the entire world changed, a brilliant light flared ahead. Astar¡¯s eyes, long adjusted to the mine¡¯s gloom, were momentarily blinded. He stopped in his tracks, stunned, as the first rays of daylight touched his face. He stood there, forgetting everything.


    For the first time since arriving in this world, he saw the light of the outside¡ªnot the occasional beams that slipped into the mine, but full, glorious daylight. Fresh, cool air rushed into his lungs, sending shivers down his spine. The smell¡ªno rot, no piss, no damp decay.


    "Don¡¯t stop!" Dalanar barked, yanking him hard by the shoulder. "We¡¯re not safe yet¡ªrun!"


    The words jolted Astar from his trance. He took a deep breath, still trying to grasp what he saw, and dashed forward with the others.


    His eyes adjusted quickly to the light. It was as if the darkness that had clung to him for so long finally let go¡ªrevealing a world he could barely comprehend. As the group cleared the cave¡¯s edge and rounded a rocky outcrop, Astar froze again, struck speechless by the view.


    They were high on a mountain slope. Before him stretched a breathtaking landscape. Jagged peaks loomed in every direction, their bases swallowed by colossal forests. The treetops shimmered with hues of green and blue that Astar had never seen on Earth. Roads¡ªthin lines of movement¡ªwound through the woodlands like threads. Some of those paths glimmered faintly, as if lit by unseen torches.


    "This is¡­ unbelievable," he whispered, forgetting everything for a moment.


    But that wasn¡¯t what truly stunned him.


    What caught and held his gaze was the enormous, semi-transparent dome that covered the entire mountain. It shimmered in hues of white and blue, pulsing softly, as if breathing in rhythm with some unseen energy. The sight stole his breath and filled him with awe¡ªand dread.


    Astar slowly turned, following the dome¡¯s curve¡ªand saw its source. At the mountain¡¯s peak blazed a powerful beam of light, shooting straight into the sky. It was a colossal stream of raw energy, spreading outward to form the barrier.


    "That¡¯s the barrier," Dalanar said hoarsely, turning to face him. His voice carried both relief and exhaustion. "That beam¡¯s from the local Temple of Memoria. It sustains the barrier. While we¡¯re inside, the abyssals won¡¯t touch us. But we¡¯re about to cross the line."


    These words snapped Astar back to reality. He tore his gaze from the majestic dome and looked at those running beside him. The faces of the former prisoners reflected a mix of exhaustion and fear. Many of them, like him, were seeing daylight and breathing fresh air for the first time in what felt like an eternity.


    ¡°Shit¡­ there¡¯s barely more than ten of us left,¡± Astar realized with a sinking feeling, understanding that nearly twenty had fallen in the tunnels.


    But there was no time to mourn. Dalanar was already urging them forward.


    ¡°Move! Break¡¯s over! If we hesitate now, they¡¯ll catch us. Run while you still can!¡±


    They scrambled down the mountainside. The path was steep and treacherous¡ªloose stones slid underfoot, and sharp ridges threatened to send anyone tumbling with a single misstep. Astar ran, his heartbeat pounding in rhythm with the echoing footsteps of the group. The footwear they¡¯d been given in the mines was little more than wrapped rags, already tearing apart. Prisoners stumbled, fell, some rolled several meters down¡ªbut all of them forced themselves back up and pushed on. They all knew: a pause here meant death.


    The wind slammed into his face, carrying the chill of the forest that sprawled at the base of the mountain. Its shadows promised shelter, its depths a sliver of hope. For now, everyone¡¯s thoughts were fixed on the danger behind, not what lay ahead.


    The shouting and clamor from above began to fade, but tension still gripped the group. The guards could be right on their heels. All they wanted was to leave the mining territory behind¡ªbecause once they crossed that threshold, it was unlikely the pursuit would last long.


    Dalanar had explained that the Gray Mnemarchs wouldn¡¯t waste time tracking a handful of escaped slaves, especially when their chances of surviving the forest were slim to none. The regular guards, meanwhile, didn¡¯t have the power to freely roam outside the barrier¡ªthis path was marked as danger level three, which meant there was a real risk of encountering a Premarch-level Abyssal.


    Astar glanced behind to make sure Dalanar was still with them. His companion moved with a kind of mad confidence, as if he knew exactly what had to be done.


    And then, the forest was closer than he expected. They reached its edge, where the barrier shimmered with an intense glow. Up close, the semi-transparent wall rippling in white and blue hues looked even more awe-inspiring. It almost seemed alive, quivering like the surface of water.


    ¡°Through it! Don¡¯t stop!¡± Dalanar shouted, shoving them forward. No one hesitated, no one paused to examine the barrier.


    Astar felt something strange course through him the moment he crossed that veil of light. It was like plunging into a wall of water¡ªthick, pressurized¡ªyet he remained completely dry. A brief, weighty pressure wrapped around his body, then vanished, leaving only a faint tremor in his limbs.


    He turned back in time to see the barrier ripple behind him, as if it had responded to his touch. A pang of unease bloomed in his chest.


    ¡°We¡¯re in new danger now,¡± he realized, watching the others cross the threshold.


    Dalanar didn¡¯t allow them a moment to think.


    ¡°Into the forest! Now!¡± he barked. ¡°The roads are too exposed. If they come looking, that¡¯s where they¡¯ll check first. Move!¡±


    The group¡¯s tension surged, but no one argued. Astar felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise, a primal warning from his body that something was wrong. He cast one last glance at the barrier, at the mountain range behind it, and then hurried after the others¡ªinto the strange, shadowy depths of the forest.

 Chapter 7 — Abyssals

    The forest they had plunged into reminded Astar once again that he was most definitely not on Earth. Towering trees with bluish foliage stretched hundreds of meters into the sky, their thick, moss-covered trunks radiating an ancient, immovable presence. Their canopies were dense, like branching threads shimmering in blue-green hues. The filtered light created soft, flickering patterns across the forest floor, which was blanketed in thick moss and enormous leaves.


    Astar ran, doing his best to stay on his feet, but he couldn¡¯t ignore how drastically different this forest was from anything he''d seen back on Earth. Each step felt like a new revelation¡ªunfamiliar, twisted plants; massive glowing flowers casting a faint blue luminescence; even the gnarled roots intertwined to form intricate patterns.


    Insects buzzed through the air, producing strange sounds he¡¯d never heard. Some resembled glowing beetles, others¡ªbizarre creatures with wings like they were spun from silver threads. One hovered right in front of his face for a moment, emitting a deep vibrating hum before flitting away.


    "This isn''t Earth. This is another world," he realized once again, and the thought struck him with renewed force. "A real other world. And I¡¯m here, running through its forest, trying not to die. Shit!"


    Dalanar, who was leading the way, suddenly turned and shouted over his shoulder, cutting through the relative stillness of the woods:


    ¡°Faster! Don¡¯t slow down! This forest isn¡¯t as safe as it looks!¡±


    His words spurred the group into quicker motion. No one wanted to find out what might be lurking deeper in this beautiful, yet clearly dangerous place. The tension was building¡ªthe air itself felt heavier. Every rustle of leaves, every snapping branch made heads turn.


    Astar passed a cluster of drooping plants whose long leaves seemed to sway despite the still air. His heart pounded in his chest, but he didn¡¯t let himself falter.


    ¡°Run. Just run,¡± he repeated in his head, gripping the bloodstained pickaxe still clutched in his hands. ¡°Don¡¯t think about what¡¯s behind. Don¡¯t think about what might be ahead.¡±


    The dense forest began to close in around them, hiding them from the fading light of the barrier and cloaking them in uneasy solitude. But with that came the creeping sensation of being watched¡ªlike unseen eyes tracked every movement.


    When they had finally run far enough¡ªat least it felt like enough¡ªDalanar came to a halt. His sharp gesture brought everyone else to an immediate stop. Heavy breathing and pounding hearts echoed in Astar¡¯s ears, and his legs nearly gave out beneath him. Like the others, he collapsed against the trunk of a towering tree.


    The air was thick with both fear and relief. Some of the prisoners dropped flat to the ground, leaning weakly on their pickaxes or looted swords. One covered his face with trembling hands, trying to grasp the reality that they had truly escaped¡ªthat they actually had a chance to live.


    ¡°We love death. But I, for one, don¡¯t wanna die¡­ Good thing we made it out of that damned mine,¡± rasped one of the escapees, his voice shaking as if even he didn¡¯t believe the words. He belonged to one of those strange skeletal races.


    Astar still knew nothing about the species that inhabited this world, or how it all worked. Ever since gaining knowledge of the local language, he¡¯d kept up his act as the mute fool and avoided drawing attention. Dalanar had also told him to keep his mouth shut, promising to explain everything if they survived.


    No one responded to the skeletal man¡¯s comment. No one smiled. The joy of freedom quickly gave way to a heavy sense of dread. The forest, though it hid them from their pursuers, radiated a quiet, ominous presence. Or perhaps it was the fear of the unknown¡ªthe terrifying, boundless unknown that this world held.


    Astar sat hunched forward, trying to steady his breath. His hands still trembled, and behind his eyes flashed the images he couldn¡¯t forget. Death. The pickaxe striking down. Blood, cracking bone, the shatter of armor. That head¡ªblown apart in a spray of gore¡­


    His stomach churned again. He clamped a hand over his mouth but knew there was nothing left to come up. Everything he could have vomited was already left behind on the stone floors of the mines.


    ¡°I killed,¡± echoed in his mind. ¡°I killed someone. A living, thinking being. And not just once.¡±


    He lifted his gaze toward the others. Some looked just as dazed as he was. Others remained oddly calm, as if none of this touched them personally. But deep down, Astar knew¡ªthey were all equally shaken.


    He clenched his teeth, trying to push back the wave of weakness crashing over him.


    ¡°You survived. You had to. There was no other choice,¡± he repeated to himself, though the words rang hollow. Inside, everything continued tearing apart.


    Dalanar, noticing Astar¡¯s state, stepped closer. His expression showed something resembling concern, though his hardened stare tried to hide it. He crouched beside Astar and said quietly,


    ¡°You did well, Astar. Everyone¡¯s shaken right now, but we¡¯re alive. That¡¯s all that matters.¡±


    Astar looked up. He wanted to reply, but the words caught in his throat. His lips trembled, and his fingers were still clamped around the pickaxe¡¯s handle like it was the last thing holding him together.


    But before Dalanar could say anything more, a new sound rolled through the forest¡ªa low, guttural growl that seemed to vibrate straight through their bones.


    ¡°Graaaaar!¡± The leaves of the nearest trees shuddered, and the insects that had been buzzing peacefully just moments before vanished all at once.


    ¡°Shit¡­¡± Dalanar muttered, his eyes narrowing. He straightened abruptly, as if preparing for something.


    ¡°Everyone up! Now!¡±


    His voice was firm, but carried a sharp edge of alarm. The others, though exhausted, began to rise. No one dared question him¡ªtension had gripped them all like a vice.


    ¡°That was an abyssal¡¯s roar,¡± he snapped, turning to the group. ¡°It¡¯s close. Probably caught our scent. If we don¡¯t want to end up dead, we need to move. Now!¡±


    He strode quickly to Astar and tore the pickaxe from his grip.


    ¡°You won¡¯t need this anymore,¡± he said, pulling one of two swords from his belt¡ªclearly scavenged from the overseers. He thrust it into Astar¡¯s hands. ¡°Can you handle this?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Astar felt the weapon¡¯s weight¡ªit was even heavier than the pickaxe. He didn¡¯t know the first thing about sword fighting, but arguing was pointless now. ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡±


    ¡°Try like your life depends on it,¡± Dalanar said coldly. ¡°If that abyssal comes at us, you stay back. Follow my orders. When I say ¡®now¡¯, strike for the head. Hard. Don¡¯t hesitate¡ªor we¡¯re all dead.¡±


    Astar nodded, sweat already trickling down his back.


    ¡°Move!¡± Dalanar shouted to the others. ¡°And remember¡ªno roads! Stay in the forest! Stick together!¡±


    The group began to move again, suppressing the dread gnawing at their nerves. Astar ran near the back, feeling the sword¡¯s weight in his hand and keeping his eyes locked on Dalanar¡¯s back. The growl came again¡ªcloser this time¡ªand something rustled deep in the underbrush.


    ¡°Run,¡± Astar ordered himself silently. ¡°Run and don¡¯t look back. You don¡¯t want to see that damned monster!¡±


    ¡°There are plenty of caves beneath this forest!¡± Dalanar shouted over his shoulder, trying to rally them. ¡°Once we find one, we can rest!¡±


    They kept running. The forest seemed to come alive with ominous rustling and snapping twigs. Each fugitive did their best to keep pace, avoiding the roads as instructed. Slowly, the abyssal¡¯s roars began to fade, and tension began to ease¡ªjust a little.


    Astar felt his heartbeat start to settle, though every cell in his body remained coiled like a spring. At some point, he even dared to think they might¡¯ve gotten away. Maybe the abyssal had lost their trail¡­ maybe they hadn¡¯t been seen at all.


    But the relief was a lie.


    ¡°Shuuuv!¡± Suddenly, from behind a nearby tree trunk, a massive black shadow lunged forward.


    Time seemed to slow, and Astar saw it¡ªan enormous monster landing in a single leap beside one of the unfortunate fugitives. In that moment, he couldn¡¯t move. He could only watch as the creature¡¯s jaws clamped shut around its prey.


    ¡°Chvrk!¡± came the sickening crunch.


    Astar¡¯s eyes flew wide, dread shooting down his spine like ice. The thing rebounded with a guttural snarl, landing in their path¡ªcutting off escape.


    Astar stared at the black beast that now stood before them. It loomed on four massive limbs that ended not in paws, but clawed hands disturbingly similar to human ones. Its shape vaguely resembled a beast, but there was no neck¡ªits body flowed straight into a huge, grotesque head. At the center of that head was a single, massive eye¡­ one that held multiple pupils, each gazing in different directions. And that gaze¡­ it radiated hatred. Pure, boundless hatred and insatiable hunger.


    The main jaw yawned open directly beneath the eye, packed with crooked, blade-like fangs, currently clutching the half-devoured body of its victim. Every time the mouth opened wider, clouds of black mist poured out, and thick droplets of oily black saliva fell to the ground¡ªsizzling violently as they burned away the grass beneath.


    ¡°What the hell is that¡­¡± Astar muttered, stumbling a step back.


    The victim the monster had pounced on hadn¡¯t even had time to scream. Their body convulsed as the beast tore into their flesh. Crimson blood spilled down its jet-black maw, dripping onto the forest floor. The creature let out a vile, wet chewing noise, clearly relishing its prize.


    ¡°Gods,¡± someone whispered behind Astar. The voice trembled, hollow like that of a ghost.


    Astar tried to look away, but couldn¡¯t. His legs felt welded to the earth, his eyes locked on the horror unfolding before him.


    ¡°That¡¯s an abyssal,¡± he realized. ¡°A real abyssal! And we¡¯re supposed to fight that thing?!¡±


    As always, Dalanar was the first to snap back into action. He drew his sword and spun toward the group.


    ¡°We¡¯re in trouble! This one¡¯s powerful!¡± he barked, his voice cracking through the haze like a whip. ¡°Surround it! I can¡¯t break its defense¡ªbut if we hold it long enough, Astar can land a strike!¡±


    For a moment, the fugitives froze, their faces etched with panic and despair. But Dalanar¡¯s commanding voice, filled with strength and certainty, spurred them into motion. Everyone understood¡ªrunning was pointless. The monster would catch them long before they could get far.


    ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there like fools!¡± Dalanar snapped, pointing his blade at the abyssal. ¡°That¡¯s not a humanoid¡ªit¡¯s a beast-type. And it only recently reached the Premarch level. That means it¡¯s dangerous, but not impossible. Only strike if you¡¯re sure you can dodge! The goal is to distract it¡ªhit and retreat!¡±


    Reluctantly, the others began to spread out, forming a loose circle around the beast. They held swords, pickaxes, anything they could use as weapons. Astar still stood rooted in place, clutching the sword Dalanar had given him. His hands shook violently, and his mind screamed one word: ¡°Run! Run while you still can!¡±


    ¡°Astar!¡± Dalanar grabbed his shoulder and gave him a hard shake. ¡°We need you! When I give the signal¡ªstrike the head. You¡¯re the only one who can pierce its defenses. Got it?!¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Astar wanted to say no, to shout that he wasn¡¯t made for this. But then he saw the look in Dalanar¡¯s eyes¡ªthe same confidence that rang in his voice. He swallowed and nodded. ¡°Got it.¡±


    The monster, having finished its first victim, slowly lifted its massive head. A guttural growl rumbled from deep within its throat. Its twisted eyes scanned the ones surrounding it, and a grotesque grin spread across its warped face¡ªas if it was savoring their fear.


    ¡°Now!¡± Dalanar shouted. ¡°Circle and distract it!¡±


    The fugitives charged. Their movements were frantic, but they followed the plan. One darted forward and slashed with a pickaxe, the metal biting into the beast¡¯s flank¡ªbut barely scratching it. The abyssal roared in irritation and lunged, only for another fighter to land a blow across its tail, drawing its attention away.


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    It swung toward the second attacker, but he rolled away just in time. Two more rushed in from the sides, striking quickly and retreating before the monster could retaliate.


    Dalanar, watching the pattern unfold, barked out,


    ¡°Keep it up! Don¡¯t give it room to move! Astar, be ready! We¡¯re opening a gap¡ªyou need to finish it!¡±


    ¡°What the hell is this life? Just a few years ago I was sitting in an office!¡± Astar cursed inwardly, trying to turn fear into fury. ¡°Now I¡¯m hunting monsters?! What the hell is happening to me?!¡±


    He stood just behind the fray, gripping the sword so tightly his fingers had turned white. His hands trembled. His heart thundered in his chest, threatening to break free. The battle ahead looked like something out of a fantasy novel¡ªexcept it was real. Terrifyingly real. The others kept striking, always retreating immediately. Their movements were rough, untrained, but the plan was working¡ªthey were keeping the abyssal distracted.


    But the thing was too fast.


    Those twisted ¡°hands¡± with their clawed, human-like fingers kept slashing the air, tearing into any attacker who didn¡¯t move fast enough. One screamed as claws ripped across his side, collapsing in the grass. Another raised his pickaxe, but the beast spun and drove its tail straight through his neck.


    Blood sprayed. The prisoner crumpled like a broken doll, and the monster flung his body aside before turning back to the group with a thunderous roar.


    In mere minutes, their numbers had already shrunk.


    Astar saw it all. His mind reeled with terror, but something else had begun to spark inside him. Not just anger or desperation¡ªbut a clear realization.


    ¡°Screw this. They¡¯re giving me a window. That means it won¡¯t see my strike coming. I just need to bury this damn blade in its skull!¡±


    ¡°Astar!¡± Dalanar roared. His voice boomed like thunder. ¡°Now! Hit it! We¡¯ve opened the gap!¡±


    Every muscle in Astar¡¯s body tensed like a coiled spring. He inhaled sharply¡ªthen sprinted forward.


    Time slowed.


    He saw the monster turning, its massive eye focusing on its next target¡ªbut too late. He saw the blood streaking its face, the fire smoldering in its maw.


    Astar screamed, pouring into that cry all his rage, fear, and strength. He swung the sword, and his entire body moved as a single, unified force.


    Shuuv! The blade bit and sank into the monster¡¯s skull with such force that a wet crunch rang out, mingled with the sound of splintering stone.


    Black blood gushed from the beast¡¯s head, splattering Astar¡¯s face and chest. The creature let out one final roar that faded into a rasp, and its massive body collapsed onto the ground, sending a faint tremor through the earth.


    Astar froze, still clutching the sword that now sat halfway embedded in the monster¡¯s head. His legs trembled, his breath was ragged. He stepped back, released the hilt, and fell hard onto his rear.


    "I¡­ I did it," he whispered, not believing his own words. Strangely, killing this beast didn¡¯t bring with it the same sickening cocktail of horror and revulsion that had flooded him when he killed sentient beings.


    The black blood spread around him, poisoning and soaking the grass, and the beast didn¡¯t move again. Its skin began to sting at his own, prompting him to instinctively wipe it off with the rough, filthy sleeve of his clothes.


    Inside Astar, everything was tangled: terror and relief, shock and triumph. His heart pounded, the ringing in his ears drowned out the sounds around him, but the feeling of victory gradually filled his mind. He had killed that thing. He¡ªsomeone who not long ago believed himself weak and powerless¡ªhad slain an abyssal. And in that moment, something strange stirred within him¡­ He almost liked the feeling of his newfound power.


    ¡°Damn! Nicely done, Astar!¡± Dalanar shouted. ¡°That big bastard probably has a core in him! You know what? Once we get to the city, we might even make a profit, ha-ha!¡±


    Astar spun toward Dalanar. His face still showed traces of fear, but a nearly crazed smile broke across his lips.


    ¡°Incredible! We did it!¡± he yelled, raising his hand in the air. ¡°We killed it! We¡ª!¡±


    His voice stopped. The entire world seemed to freeze in that instant. Astar¡¯s eyes widened, and his joyful expression twisted into one of horror.


    He saw them ¡ª leaping silently and ominously from the dense shadows of the forest behind Dalanar came three abyssals at once. They resembled the one he had just killed, but one among them was far more monstrous in both size and form. Its body was broader, its clawed hands more massive, and from its gaping jaws spilled an even denser stream of black flame.


    It was nearly twice the size of its kin. Its ribcage looked like it was made of exposed bones, from which black fluid dripped. Its pupils, glowing with a crimson light, locked directly onto Dalanar.


    Time slowed. Astar watched as the enormous creature, with a single leap, landed directly behind Dalanar. One of the prisoners shouted out in a desperate attempt to warn him, but the voice was lost, drowned out as if the world had gone mute.


    Dalanar turned, sword already at the ready, but even he didn¡¯t have time to fully comprehend the scope of the new threat.


    ¡°Dalanar!¡± Astar screamed, his voice filled with terror.


    But the warning came too late. That monstrous maw, lined with jagged fangs, lunged forward, crashing down on Dalanar like the hammer of fate.


    Clack!


    The sound that followed was wet, muffled, and unbearably loud in Astar¡¯s ears. In a single instant, the monstrous creature clamped its jaws around Dalanar¡¯s body, then violently twisted its head to the side.


    Dalanar¡¯s body ¡ª just moments ago brimming with energy and resolve ¡ª was torn in two. Blood and entrails burst in every direction, soaking the ground beneath them. His face, which only a heartbeat earlier had radiated confidence and fighting spirit, froze with a strange, almost joyful smile. He hadn¡¯t even had time to register what happened. Or perhaps, he simply refused to believe it¡ªafter all, meeting such powerful abyssals on these roads was supposed to be nearly impossible¡­


    Astar stood frozen, his feet rooted to the earth. He stared at the crumpled body of his only ally as it hit the ground. Everything inside him turned to stone. His mind screamed, refusing to accept what had just happened.


    But that was only the first blow.


    The remaining abyssals surged forward. Their attacks were lightning-fast, lethal, and terrifyingly graceful. Claws tore flesh, fangs ripped through bodies. The screams of prisoners filled the forest, mixing with the deep growls of the monsters. Crimson blood flowed in rivers, turning the grass beneath them into a thick, sticky mire.


    One of the smaller abyssals pounced on a prisoner with a sword, knocking him flat before tearing out his throat. Another lunged toward a separate group, easily bowling people over and sinking its teeth into their chests. It was a massacre. No one stood a chance against their power.


    But the one that frightened Astar the most was the largest of them. Its movements were slower, yet radiated a terrifying confidence. It didn¡¯t rush. It moved as if savoring the slaughter, as if declaring: ¡°You¡¯re already dead. Just accept it.¡±


    From this creature emanated an indescribable aura, pressing down on Astar with such crushing force that his body began to tremble. It was the same sensation he had felt when he saw the Gray Mnemarchs back in the mines.


    "This is impossible... According to Dalanar, monsters like that shouldn¡¯t even exist here¡­ I can¡¯t fight something like that. None of us can!"


    At some point, one of the fugitives, screaming in desperation, rushed the enormous monster¡ªbut the creature merely snorted, and from its maw, like a dart, a black spike shot forward. The impact was so powerful that the man¡¯s body was flung backward and pinned against a tree trunk.


    In that moment, Astar understood one thing: they were doomed.


    "Run," flashed through his mind. "The only chance to survive¡ªrun!"


    His legs began to move on their own. He didn¡¯t even realize he¡¯d left his sword lodged in the corpse of the monster he had slain. All he could do was flee, never looking back, while hell tore the forest apart behind him.


    Astar ran as if death itself was chasing him. His heart thundered, his legs carried him forward, but his mind was still drowning in terror. Behind him he heard screams, the crunch of bones, and monstrous growls¡ªbut he didn¡¯t dare turn around. Fear was stronger than curiosity.


    The silence didn¡¯t last. Branches cracked and a dull thudding filled the air behind him, growing louder with every second. Astar risked a glance over his shoulder¡ªand immediately regretted it.


    The massive monster had chosen him as its prey.


    Its eyes, glowing crimson, were locked onto him, and its colossal body moved with terrifying ease. Each of its steps made the earth tremble. But the worst part wasn¡¯t its size¡ªthe abyssal wasn¡¯t rushing after him. It wasn¡¯t sprinting. Its pace was slow, almost leisurely, like a predator savoring the hunt.


    "He knows¡­ He knows I can¡¯t escape..." Astar realized.


    Then, like a bolt of lightning through his skull, the truth hit him: the creature saw something in him. Something he didn¡¯t yet understand. Something that made him more than just a target¡ªmade him the most desirable prize.


    "Memoria," he guessed, choking on the lump in his throat. "It has to be the memoria. This thing sees it¡ªfeels that I¡¯m stronger than the others¡ªand it wants to devour me! Shit! God, help me!" The horror pushed him to pray, even though he¡¯d never been particularly religious.


    The monster picked up speed, and a fresh surge of adrenaline flooded Astar¡¯s body. His legs moved faster than ever, but the forest conspired against him. Branches tore at his clothes, roots clawed at his feet, and every breath felt like fire in his chest.


    "Just run! Run! But where?!" he shouted in his mind, trying desperately to push back the rising panic.


    Behind him came a low, drawn-out growl that seemed to vibrate through the air, making the trees shudder. It wasn¡¯t just threatening¡ªit was brimming with anticipation. The beast was enjoying the chase, absolutely certain of how it would end.


    "What a ridiculous chain of events," Astar thought bitterly, crashing through the dense undergrowth, trying to lose the monster. He still couldn¡¯t wrap his mind around how absurd everything had become.


    "I sold my company. A successful goddamn company! I was supposed to relax, to enjoy peace!" Rage and fear twisted inside him, forming a boiling storm. "I dealt with endless legal bullshit and negotiations¡­ and when it was finally all behind me, I got sucked into this cursed new world! Slave labor, mines, memoria, abyssals¡­ and now I¡¯m about to be some monster¡¯s lunch! Is this the gift my parents left me?! You asked for my forgiveness? To hell with you!"


    "Even in this world, you''re still shitty parents!" he shouted with burning resentment and fury.


    That terrible sound filled his mind again¡ªthe crunch of bones, the screams, the predator¡¯s growl. It chased him even now, making his heart skip beats. He didn¡¯t know how much longer he could keep running. His legs were turning to jelly, his breath was ragged, and his chest burned with pain.


    "I don¡¯t want to die! Not like this! Not now! My whole life would¡¯ve been for nothing!" Astar screamed inwardly, finally realizing just how far he¡¯d strayed from the life he truly wanted.


    And then¡­ he saw it.


    Up ahead, nestled between two jagged rocks and hidden behind thick brush, was a small hole. It was barely wide enough for a man of average build¡ªif that. Astar didn¡¯t have time to weigh the risks. Something deep inside told him it was his only shot.


    "Can I fit in there? What if it¡¯s a dead end?! Doesn¡¯t matter. I have to try!"


    He poured every last ounce of strength into his legs, hurling himself forward toward the rocky opening. A few more steps¡ªand the cave opened before him, far too narrow to walk into. He¡¯d have to dive headfirst or feet-first.


    "Shit!" Astar cursed, not slowing down.


    Behind him came a thunderous roar. The monster must have noticed the maneuver and was now charging full speed, closing the gap with terrifying speed.


    "Come on, come on, damn it!" Astar screamed inwardly, pushing his body past the limit and bracing for the leap.


    He pushed off the ground with both feet, launching himself into the narrow opening feet first. For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Astar felt the air around him grow dense, as if the cold shadow of death itself was catching up to him.


    His line of sight shifted, and what he saw made his blood run cold. The monster¡¯s gaping maw, full of jagged fangs, was already closing in to devour him. Its eyes blazed with crimson light, and black smoke poured from its throat, filling the air with a nauseating stench of rot and burning flesh.


    The creature¡¯s fetid breath hit Astar¡¯s face¡ªhot, searing, reeking of blood. It was too close, too real, too inevitable. Time stretched into an eternal moment.


    ¡°This has to be some sick joke¡­¡± flashed through Astar¡¯s mind as the jaws began to snap shut around him.


    But in that instant, his body crashed into the opening. Astar felt his shoulders scrape the edges of the stone entrance, the cold rock tearing at his skin¡ªbut he didn¡¯t stop. With a desperate burst of strength, he hurled himself into the cave, his head vanishing just as the monster¡¯s teeth clamped shut¡ªon nothing but air.


    CLACK! echoed behind him¡ªand in the next instant, the world shook.


    BA-BAAM! The monster slammed into the rock with a thunderous crash, sending stones tumbling around the cave¡¯s mouth. The booming impact echoed through the forest, silencing the smaller creatures in terrified stillness.


    Astar was stunned, overwhelmed, his mind reeling to make sense of what had just happened. He couldn¡¯t believe he had escaped death. All he could feel was the weight of his own body¡ªand a sudden, terrifying lightness beneath him.


    "I¡­ I¡¯m alive?" he thought¡ªjust as he realized he was falling.


    The opening he had leapt through wasn¡¯t a passage¡ªit was the mouth of a vast cavern. Darkness yawned beneath him, and the sensation of freefall seized him completely. Wind whipped past his face, and his chest tightened with fear.


    ¡°No-no-no! Don¡¯t tell me there¡¯s more!¡± he screamed internally, plummeting into the unknown.


    There was only darkness. The rushing howl of air filled his ears, and the occasional flash of reflected light on the stone walls confirmed that he was spiraling downward.


    The fall lasted just seconds¡ªbut for Astar, it felt like an eternity. He didn¡¯t even have time to scream before he hit¡ª


    SPLOOSH!


    A heavy splash echoed through the cavern as he plunged into freezing, biting water. The cold engulfed him instantly, silencing all sound and snatching the breath from his lungs. The shock was blinding¡ªbut one thing mattered above all: he hadn¡¯t been shattered on the rocks. He was still alive.


    Astar kicked and thrashed, forcing his body upward.


    Khg-aah! He burst through the surface, gasping desperately, choking on air and water. Waves rippled outward from his flailing limbs as he frantically looked around, blinking and wiping his face.


    "Light!" he shouted silently.


    He saw it¡ªhe had landed in an enormous underground lake, the cavern stretching dozens of meters in every direction. High above, the ceiling disappeared into shadow, but the walls and roof were dotted with faintly glowing stalagmites and clusters of strange mushrooms. They gave off a cool, silvery light like moonlight, casting ghostly reflections across the water¡¯s surface. And more importantly¡ªthey allowed him to see where he was.


    He looked around and spotted it¡ªa shoreline. A narrow patch of ground, slick with wet stones and dotted with luminous fungi, lay nearby. Without hesitating, he paddled toward it, each stroke burning his tired muscles.


    When he finally reached the bank, his feet touched solid ground and he dragged himself onto land, collapsing in a trembling, gasping heap. His breath came in ragged gulps, his entire body shivering from cold and exhaustion¡ªbut he was alive. He had survived.


    ¡°To hell with this world¡­ and to hell with my parents! If I make it to a damn city, I¡¯ll do whatever it takes to carve out a safe, comfortable life for myself¡­ Screw everything else¡­¡± he muttered between gasps, trembling with cold and fury.


    Catching his breath, he slowly lifted his head and looked around. His eyes, adjusting to the dim light, picked out more details¡ªthis cave wasn¡¯t just a dead end. In several places, tunnel-like openings yawned into darkness, natural corridors big enough to walk through upright.


    "An exit," he thought. "Maybe one of these leads outside?" he dared to hope.


    He wanted to feel triumph, to rejoice that he had narrowly escaped death. But instead, he felt only a heavy, crushing weight inside him. He had no idea what awaited him next¡ªbut one thing was certain: even if he made it out of the cave, he would still have to survive that damned forest. And after everything that had happened, he wasn¡¯t even sure he had the courage left to face the world above.