The click of the shackles around my wrists was a gunshot, and they faintly rattled as my hands shook.

I kept my head bent as Owen shoved me onto a log, and I landed heavily next to another man. He was in the same predicament as me, with cuffs clanking around his wrists.

"You'll wait here until everyone gets back," Keith said. "Then we'll take you and the defectors to the captain together."

"Stay quiet, and don't do anything stupid," Owen warned, and then they were gone.

As far as I could tell, we were currently in a camp. We had exited the forest, its shade disappearing, and walked through an empty stretch before making it to structures that Keith had weaved around. Voices sounded around me as people went to work on multiple tasks. Unfortunately, we were isolated from them, so I couldn't make out any distinct conversations.

"Hey," the man covertly whispered to me. I pegged him at around forty years old. "You a dropped?"

"Yes," I responded curtly, turning my head towards him. Apparently, that was now what I would be called.

"What's it like? Where did you come from? Do you know why? My name's Jacob, by the way."

I sighed. This man sure asked many questions. "I'm Carter," I informed him. As I was currently in an enemy camp, I did not want to give anyone my name. My grandmother had always told me that names had meaning and should be held close to your chest. The military had only solidified that belief. "I have no answers for your other questions."

"Bummer. Wanna know why I'm like this?" He rattled his chains. I sighed, shaking my head.

Jacob scoffed. "Well, fine. I won't tell you if you don't want to." Despite his change in tone, I could still sense a hint of playfulness weaving through it.

Turning my head away, I tried to ignore him. I still wished this was a dream, but there was no waking up from this. I had come to that conclusion, feeling that it would only be detrimental to pretend this was just another delusion.

"Hey, what do you think..." he began again.

Suddenly, there was an invidious smack to the back of my head, and Jacob's yelp told me he had received the same.

"I said stay fucking quiet, didn't I?" Owen imperiously said.

I sneered at the dirt, indignation curdling my stomach. The man walked away with vigor in his step, and Jacob muttered next to me.

"Asshole."

We were quiet after that, not wanting a repeat performance. Others—I assumed convicts like Jacob—slowly filled the log we were sitting on. All of us made a picture of silent prisoners. By the time the sixth had been seated, the sun had started to fall, the chill bringing goosebumps to my skin.

An unknown man spoke, and Keith stood by his side. "Everyone get up. We're taking you to the captain and will find out what to do with you then."

We walked in a line, and Keith came to stand next to me. Whether to keep me in check or help lead me, I did not know. Weaving through what I assumed to be tents, murmurs from different groups of people followed our parade. The nightlife in the forest woke with the arrival of the coolness of the night, and cicadas added to the cacophony of sounds. Finally, they led us into a large tent, and our only welcome was the scratch of writing against a desk.

"Sir, we collected one dropped and rounded up the defectors per your orders," one man reported. The writing stopped, and a deep but quiet voice responded.

"Good. Set the prisoners in a tent near the border, then tomorrow, we'll send them to the capital. In the morning, test the dropped for aptitude in any form of combat. If he's good, take him with you; otherwise, put him up with the workforce gathering materials for defenses. Dismissed," he finished, and the pen again began moving across the page.

"Sir!" Keith and the other saluted simultaneously, and we were led back outside.

"Defectors, follow me. Keith, take the dropped." The six walked away swiftly, and Keith herded me into an unoccupied tent.

I was directed to a cot as Keith addressed me from the entrance. "Sleep now, and I'll come back in the morning. Don't try to leave. It won't turn out well." With nothing further, he exited.

Silence again showed its face, and I laid down on my cot with nothing better to do. There wasn't much point trying to escape, as I heard what I guessed to be a guard shifting outside the tent. I was in the dark, and the only thing I could do was wait for the day.

The noise from the camp was still loud, but I tuned it out. I was used to falling asleep at the drop of a hat—it was a trait you had to learn when in the military. But I found it a slight struggle since Myah was no longer beside me. Over time, I had gotten used to the dog's presence, and it felt odd to sleep without her. I wondered if she had been moved from Earth as well.

Sleep came eventually, and she faded from my thoughts.

I woke with the dawn, and the camp was utterly silent with the exception of the birds who sang. It seems some things here were the same as Earth.

Sitting up, I rubbed my sore wrists that were still in shackles. It wasn't long before Keith walked into the tent, urging me to quickly get moving. I was given a quick meal before he pulled me aside.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"You're blind, so you won't have much use, if any, in combat. I'm handing you over to the workforce. Hopefully, they'll have something for you to do." I nodded my head, pretending like I understood, and followed along.

I was handed over to a man whose voice was at least a head above my own. He was entirely displeased about being given a "fucking cripple to help with a workload that wouldn't be finished in ten fucking years," verbatim. Keith shrugged and said that he was only following orders.

His name was Argeth, and he roughly led me past even more tents. "Ilya! Ilya! Where the hell is that boy?"

"Argeth, sir! Right here!" a small voice answered, running up to us. I guessed it was from a boy around ten years old.

"Take this cripple and get him an axe. Your new job is to guide and show him what to do. Shit, just make sure he doesn't miss and chop someone's fucking head off." He stomped away, gone as quickly as he had appeared. I turned to Ilya, who seemed stunned at the sudden order.

"Uh… cripple?" he seemed to ask himself instead of asking me directly. Still, I responded.

"Can't see," I pointed my finger toward my missing eyes.

"Oh! Okay… um, come with me." His small hand gripped my wrist, pulling me to a smaller tent crowded with objects, as we could barely take a single step inside. He picked up something, and we were off again, heading back toward the forest. I had almost tripped over some stumps from fallen trees before we made it to the ones that were still standing. The swinging of axes could be heard spread out systematically, and Ilya put one into my hands. I found I could grip it easily, even with the cuffs on.

"So… go ahead. You know where the tree is, right?" I did, but I didn't answer.

"Why?" I asked.

"Why what?"

"Why do I need to chop down the tree?"

"Uh… for materials?" he answered, unsure.

"Materials for what?" I decided to make it easier for him. "I only just arrived here yesterday. Everyone calls me a 'dropped,' which is why I have these handcuffs on. I know nothing of this world."

Ilya gasped in surprise. "Ah, I'm so stupid! Everyone was talking about it last night, but I didn't realize you were the one. Sorry."

I gestured for him to continue. "Well, the Federation is fighting a war against The Gothsend Alliance. We're supposed to chop down trees for defenses, and every day, caravans take what we produce to the front lines for the Federal Army."

"Why are they fighting?"

"I don't know much, but I heard that the cities of Gothenburg, Markitan, and Sethdol in the west got sick of the Federations' control and decided to ally together to fight. Together, I think they have enough men to fight against the Federation's army. Those cities have a lot of nobles and guards and used to be part of the Federation," he explained, and Ilya's voice gained excitement as he talked about the supposed nobles.

"Are there many of these camps?" I asked.

"Oh yeah, all along the forest line." He shuffled nervously, his head brushing my arm as he seemed to look behind me at the camp. "I- I think we should get started before Argeth sees us slacking."

"Alright." I rested my hand against the tree before us, getting a feel for its location. It wasn't too thick.

"We want it to fall in the gaps, so you'll make a notch on this side so that it will fall that way." He guided me with his voice to show the given directions. "Make a straight cut, then a cut from the top."

I got started, swinging the axe parallel to the tree. It didn't go in very far, so I repeated the action, hoping I was hitting the same spot. Unfortunately, the unfamiliar movement had already started to make my shoulder muscles lightly burn. Wood chips flew around us, and Ilya watched until he deemed the cut deep enough for the next one.

It was slow going, each swing sticking, forcing me to wiggle it and remove a chunk of wood. The sun started to rise, making sweat stream down my back and face. Moving to the other side of the tree as directed, I cut until an ominous cracking sounded out, and both Ilya and I moved back. It had taken about an hour for an amateur like me to take down a single tree. My hands had started to burn, the wood of the handle chafing against my skin, and I felt a trickle of blood roll down my finger.

I was startled out of my assessment as words sounded out in my head.

[Strength +1]

It was the same voice as yesterday, and I recalled it saying something about a title then.

"Ilya, I just got a message that strength went up by one. What does it mean?"

"Huh? You don't know? Didn't you have statuses in your world?" He sounded puzzled, like a 'status' was something common that everyone should know about.

"No. Is it why the soldiers in this world are so strong? It was unnatural."

"Yeah. Here, you can increase your attributes and skills, and some people can become really strong or really smart. But, I'm a kid, so my attributes can only naturally increase for now as I grow."

"How do I access mine?"

"Well... you just have to think 'status,' and you'll be able to see it in front of you. Well…usually. I'm not sure how it will be for you."

I did as he said, and for the first time in eight months, I saw something other than the void.

Name: Cain Miller

Title: Blind Man's Avarice

Class: None

Strength: 15

Endurance: 21

Vitality: 12

Dexterity: 15

Intelligence: 11

Wisdom: 19

Perception: 2

Skills: None

It was odd to see my person summed up by numbers. I couldn't help but notice how my perception was laughably low compared to the other stats. The title also drew my attention; I was sure I had gained it yesterday. So I focused on it, hoping to glean some more information.

[Blind Man's Avarice] - [Blindness does not stop your greed for advancement. Skill and stat improvements are accelerated… expand for additional information.]

Curious, I only had to think about the second block of information to figure out what else it could tell me.

[Avarice] → [Blind Man's Avarice] - [Title gained from achieving the first kill from one's species upon entering the Trial. Evolved from additional characteristics.]

It seems I was rewarded for my decisiveness yesterday. Was killing another usually a means to advance? It gave a new perspective on the laws of this world. The civil war in the west could be seen as a place to grow stronger, and Owen and Keith had brushed off their companions' death very quickly as if that sort of thing was commonplace.

It was easy to see this world as a meritocracy where the strong ruled over the weak. If that were true, and my title was correct, I could gain my own strength and never become a prisoner again.