Perhaps this is what religious people call “Hell” or “The Underworld”, or perhaps the most dreaded place of all... France.

It’d certainly explain the existence of the beast that I’d witnessed ten minutes ago, or being treated like dirt by the two people I thought had saved me from it.

Carried on the woman’s shoulder, I had already realized resistance was futile the moment he nearly knocked me out. They’d catch or kill me even if I’d been granted a generous thirty second head start.

Even though I was quite above average in terms of height and mass, it probably wouldn’t have influenced the outcome by a single bit.

Looking around, I noticed a statue made of marble. It stood thrice as tall as the monster that had come close to killing me, emitting an authority that compelled obedience.

Although devoid of all color, its distinct features, such as the man’s dark, all seeing eyes sent me a chill through my spine, its pupils looking as if it was following me closely. His robe, a mystical shade of grey, reached all the way down to his ankles while the man’s luscious cape looked as if it were fluttering proudly in the air.

The staff gripped tightly by his right hand aimed with certain determination towards the plains that we just had left, almost as if looking to destroy it.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Wait a minute...

“Zaros?”

My words, soft as they were, garnered a subtle glare from the woman beneath me; her gaze followed mine to the statue.

“I knew it.” I whispered.

I’m in the world of RealmQuest.

But how did I get here?

Shouldn’t I have become a human tortilla after that fall?

Did William arrive here as well?

Questions raced in my head as my hunger for answers grew by the second.

Nothing made sense.

“Max!”

As I was lost in thought, the archer suddenly screamed, calling out for someone.

Raising my head, I caught sight of a swordsman, this one clad in an intimidating ensemble of iron plates, leading a captive by a leash.

Our eyes connected to one another.

The miserable look in his eyes were evident, but something was hiding behind that facade, something sinister yet something so... familiar.

The swordswoman threw me off her shoulder, then roped me to the stranger, then probably began to discuss what to do with us next, their gazes shifting to us for a moment before continuing.

Although the majority of their discourse was unintelligible to me, a single term sufficed to understand their intentions towards us.

‘Slaaf.’ A term used in the game derived from the germanic language to refer to a slave.

Slave...

Were they planning to sell me to the slave market just because I couldn’t talk in the local language?

Is it like that...

Is it really like that...

I bit my lips.

My head went cold, and time flowed slowly around me.

Creases formed on my forehead as I narrowed my eyes to the ground. I Looked away,

There was no way I’d let them get away with this. At least, not in the end, anyways.

Indeed, their punishment must suit their crime.

I looked at the fellow captive besides me, and then I realized why those eyes looked familiar.

I could see myself in him.