The newcomers' chain clanging could already be heard. Another throng of unfortunate people are being brought by the slave-drivers to their doom.

This time, there were thirteen; it felt like their numbers grew along with the brutality of the handlers every time there were new arrivals, which by this point had virtually been every week.

One of the fresh ones, who was confined by four handlers, was subjected to particularly cruel treatment, being beaten for every single step he took, his neck must have been in constant pain because of the spikes of the man-catcher they held him in.

His movements were slow and deliberate, and the chains that bound his wrists, feet, and upper body as a whole must have been almost as heavy as he was.

Yet they were having trouble containing him.

A member of the equitaur race. I’ve heard of them, but this was the first time I’ve actually seen one.

They’re much taller than I had expected, and this one was very rowdy.

They flung him into the cell I had been rotting in for a few months now.

He didn't stay down for long before painstakingly getting up and walking across to the bars to peer into the other innumerable cells, all with their own many inmates.

For a brief moment, I thought, rather, hoped, he may actually shatter the bars as he shook them, but no. As many before him, he stopped, letting go of the bars, giving up.

Looking into the corner of his new home, he gave me a scrutinizing look, analyzed me.

He tried to communicate with me, but it was obvious that we did not speak the same language.

His voice was very deep, and he spoke slowly.

They may have been words of comfort, something I might have sought after the first week I was imprisoned in this nightmare.

He then tried to utilize a skill, perhaps to translate, but the slave collar he was wearing inhibited all abilities.

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Here, every slave wore one.

Even with his immense might, he remained powerless like everyone else.

He put his hands to the collar to tear on it.

I wanted to stop him; he would only hurt himself; and the effort would be useless, even his strength would not be enough.

Or at least, I had assumed that.

He ripped it off with such ease, if it were made of paper.

Now that I could understand him, the image I had of him, inside of my mind, changed.

“You don’t need skills when your strength skill is through the roof, now do you?" He chuckled while holding the, now bent, metal neck-brace in his enormous hand.

He let it slip through his fingers and with a loud clank, it fell on the damp floor.

"Hello there, pretty lady, you’re not from the beasts too, are you? Sure don’t look like it." He said.

He looked me up and down, "no ears, no tail, no fur at all," now he grabbed my thin, malnourished hand, "neither do you have claws. You're neither a furry nor a Kemonomimi, but what you are is very pale. Maybe you’re an albino? No, can't be, your hair would also be missing color but, instead, has a very strong one to it. Pretty black. When you get of here, you need to be in the sun for a bit, get a nice tan going. ...Though thinking about it, maybe you'll turn gray, wouldn’t want to ruin that perfect skin of yours.

You know what you remind me of? A geisha, who has already applied the foundation of her make-up. I think it was called oshiroi.”

I was lost for speech.

“What about me? How do you think I look? Do you think I’m handsome?” He asked, then turned, so that I could see his backside. Then he opened his mouth and showed me his teeth, “are my teeth long? They sure feel a lot longer than I’m used to.

I’m a horse-guy, right? Would you know of any beast race that kind of looks like a horse? I could be a donkey-guy or zebra-man- No, I haven't got any stripes.”

He demonstrated his lack of stripes clearly by lifting his raggedy shirt.

“You're the first person I talked with this about, there is another woman, but it's like talking to a wall when you're with her. First when I woke up and she told me that I was a horse-guy I thought that I have sprouted another pair of legs, you know, making it four like a centaur- You know what a centaur is, right?" He asked, and I could only nod my head, "doesn't matter. Just know that I am more of a minotaur but generally, this beast-man thing is disappointing. I look more like a character from Uma Musume than a so-called beast. Oh well, I’m sure there is a spectrum to it though, like the Khajiit from the elder scrolls."

He laughed nervously, “not that I’m disappointed to not be a furry, … haha.”

When he was finished, he asked, "And who are you, little lady?"

“… I am Wo Aini, who’re you?” I said, huddled in my corner.

"I'm simply a dude, you see. Asher, as in Asher Burell, is my name. You may have already heard of me. Ai, may I share a secret with you?” He drew nearer so I could hear him mutter, "I'm here to set you free. Not just you, though; everyone present. So, be ready for that."