“Get in line!”
The Fire Whip cracked through the air like a living serpent, its ember-streaked tail scorching the ground. Its wielder, a middle-aged man clad from head to toe in chainmail, with his hands and legs being covered by plate armour. The Fire Whip emerged out of his right palm, as if he were a flame exhaust.
The Fire Whip wasn’t an ordinary weapon—it wasn’t wielded but born from his palm, emerging like an exhaust vent of pure flame. Thick as a wrist and nearly three meters long, the molten tendril pulsed with heat, painting the air with flickering embers that cast eerie shadows on his dull-red beard.
His reddish eyes gleaming with sadistic satisfaction as his gaze swept over the scrambling Elves.
“Late! Late!” His voice carried a brutal edge as the last two Elves rushed through the tunnel entrance. His glare pinned them to the spot. “Curfew was before sundown. You two are late.”
CRACK!
The whip lashed against their legs, burning deep into flesh.
“Kkeuk!” The Elves collapsed, clutching their seared wounds. Pain twisted their faces, but they didn’t scream—not fully. The scarred flesh on their bodies spoke of repetition, of suffering endured too many times to count.
“Get in line!”
The man, Rachad, exhaled through his nose, a derisive snort. He strode down the tunnel, his gaze sweeping over the trembling line of Elves. Each one kept their head bowed, their posture stiff with obedience—except for one.
Pinaka.
Unlike the others, his skin bore no burn marks—only fresh bandages soaked in blood where his thumbs had once been.
Rachad’s eyes narrowed for a moment. Then his lips curled into a smirk.
“Another baby Elf joins the herd.”
Pinaka was the sixth in the line, having been brought in early by Mahnaka to avoid being whipped. The latter stood before him, trying his best to ensure Pinaka didn’t have to suffer unjustly. But now, as Rachad drew closer, his body began to tremble.
He had suffered beneath that whip too many times. The sight of Rachad, the heat of the Fire Whip—it was enough to freeze him in place.
‘Please, go away…we didn’t do anything wrong!’
Mahnaka thought, his body feeling cold while his scars acted up in response to the heat radiating off the Fire Whip.
“Name?” Rachad stared at Pinaka, having to look up at the latter slightly. He was 155 centimetres tall, short in comparison to the average male. On average, a newborn Elf reached a height of 160 centimetres and approached three metres at maturity.
Pinaka was slightly taller, reaching 165 centimetres. This ten-centimetre difference in height annoyed Rachad, as the moment he asked his question, he lashed out with his Fire Whip, slapping Pinaka on the cheek, “Are you dumb? How long do you intend to make me wait?”
“Argh!” Pinaka collapsed on the floor, clutching his cheek in pain as the flesh melted.
Mahnaka moved instinctively, crouching beside him. His forehead struck the ground in submission, his voice shaking. “Please, my Lord! Forgive him! His given name is Pinaka! He was just born—he doesn’t know—”
“You think I don’t know that?” Rachad scoffed.
CRACK! CRACK!
Two more lashes struck Mahnaka’s back. He convulsed, his body twitching like a dying insect, but he didn’t cry out.
Rachad sneered, his gaze flicking to Mahnaka’s luscious emerald hair, an irritating contrast to his bruised and beaten skin.
“Are you covering for the newborn, Mahnaka?”
With a twisted grin, he grabbed Mahnaka and made the latter stand in a semi-kneeled position so that his head was a tad below Rachad’s line of sight, “Did you forget your past, Mahnaka?”
He slowly twisted Mahnaka’s hair and pointed at the Elf nailed to the pillar, not elaborating further as he let go of his hold. Slowly clacking his boots on the floor, Rachad continued to pace down the tunnel.
“G-Get up,” Mahnaka assisted Pinaka.
“You’re bleeding…” Pinaka’s expression was twisted as he observed Mahnaka’s state after the latter covered for him.
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“I’m used to it. Just… don’t talk.” Mahnaka said and turned around, rejoining the line, “Just follow what all of us are doing.”
“Name?” A fully-armed soldier stood underneath the pillar and stared at the first Elf in the line.
“Nunaka,” The Elf responded with a salute, “I have harvested two tonnes of rice today!”
As the Elf named Nunaka spoke, a giant-bipedal creature pushed forth a stone cart filled with rice. Reaching a height of five metres, with skin resembling a rhinoceros was this humanoid giant built to destroy.
The Stone Race of Ogres!
Unlike the Elven Race, the Ogres haven’t been destroyed. But some of the defeated soldiers from the Ogre Race had been domesticated and were being used for labour and construction by the Humans.
The Ogre stopped before the soldier who inspected the quality of the rice and made a checkmark on his checklist.
“Status?” The soldier asked next. In response, Nunaka nodded as a green hologram manifested before him. It was a Status Screen.
The moment it appeared, Pinaka was surprised to notice that he too could see the Status Screen. His eyes darted around and judged that everyone could see the Status Screen, ‘Dammit! So, there can be no secrets here!’
The soldier observed the stats displayed on Nunaka’s Status Screen and frowned, “Why has your Weight Factor increased by one unit?”
“I…I apologise,” Nunaka began trembling in fear.
The soldier frowned but didn’t press further. “It’s within the limit. But if it increases again, you’ll be relegated to the potion factory.”
“Y-Yes, my Lord.” Nunaka stammered and then saluted, “Glory to the Human Empire!”
“Come here,” The soldier beckoned for Nunaka to come closer and sniffed the latter, making a note, “Alright, you may return to your cell.”
“T-Thank you, My Lord!” Nunaka bowed without any hint of resistance and dragged his limping self to a cell on the ground floor. The prison cell had ten storeys in total, with each storey housing twenty cells.
One by one, the Elves underwent the same process and relayed their completed tasks while an Ogre hauled in their respective harvest for the soldier to check.
“Whisper Status, and it’ll appear,” Mahnaka said and reported to the soldier. Soon, it was Pinaka’s turn.
The soldier stared at him and judged that Pinaka was a newborn. He eyed Mahnaka once and asked Pinaka, “Did that Elf teach you the basics?”
“Yes,” Pinaka nodded, trying his best to mask his emotions, ‘Dammit! I should be obedient for the time being. It’s foolish to act out without knowing everything.’
“There’s a lot of pride in your eyes, but at least you seem a bit more obedient than the usual newborn Elf.” The soldier commented, “Status?”
Recalling Mahnaka’s advice, Pinaka whispered the word and watched a green hologram manifest before his eyes. It was twenty centimetres wide and forty centimetres tall, sporting a bunch of information.
The language seemed alien, but he could clearly understand it, unaware of how that was possible, ‘Is it a reincarnation perk? Or is every living being in this world capable of using this language since birth?’
[Name: Pinaka]
[Race: Elf]
[Authority: Wood]]
[Control Factor: 1]
[Weight Factor: 1]
[Volume Factor: 1]
[Range Factor: 1]
[Speed Factor: 1]
[Spell: -]
“Alright, come closer.” The soldier observed Pinaka’s Status Screen and then sniffed, asking after a moment, “You didn’t eat yet?”
“No,” Pinaka shook his head.
“Food will be provided in your cell.” The soldier commented and motioned for Pinaka to leave, “Your Cell is next to Mahnaka. Move along.”
“Yes,” Pinaka nodded, puzzled by the entire exchange. He didn’t act out and instead kept to himself. His head spun, on the verge of fainting again. He had second-degree burns on his left cheek and his hands hurt at the place his thumbs used to exist. Too many things had happened all at once that he was still out of it.
‘Blasted hell!’ Pinaka cursed mentally and walked through the set of stairs leading to the fourth floor where his cell was, passing by Mahnaka’s cell as he noticed the latter shutting himself in on his own.
His eyes darted to the side, observing that the only soldier in the prison was the soldier who had inspected his Status Screen, ‘Why the fuck is everyone so damn submissive? There’s more than a hundred of us here.’
‘Something else should be the reason.’ He frowned and whispered once he arrived before Mahnaka’s cell, “What…is the deal with this place?”
“Once the soldier leaves, I’ll tell you why we’re so helpless,” Mahnaka stared sullenly as he took out a salve hidden in his sleeve and applied it to his wounds.
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Gangnea Daily - Article #3:
When a Status Screen manifests, it is visible to every living being that isn’t blind. Whether ally or enemy, stranger or kin—your abilities, weaknesses, and growth are laid bare for all to see.