The crack of a whip split the air.
“Get in line!”
The command rang through the dimming light as a lean, middle-aged man lashed out with a Fire Whip. Every strike against the stone floor sent embers scattering like fireflies.
He stood at the tunnel’s entrance, clad in chainmail with plate armor covering his arms and legs. His dull-red beard bristled from the heat of the whip, but he didn’t move. His reddish eyes narrowed as he watched the Elves hurry inside, his face twisting with disgust.
"Late again!" His glare fell upon the last two stragglers. "Curfew is before sunset. You missed it!"
—Smack!
The Fire Whip snapped against their legs, leaving behind a seared mark. One Elf let out a strangled groan, clutching his leg, while the other gritted his teeth, his body already marred by older scars, and neither dared to protest.
“Kkeuk!” The two Elves clutched their mouths as a whip mark seared their legs. The pain was unbearable, but judging by a few more similar marks across their bodies, this wasn’t the first time they were getting punished.
“Get in line!”
Rachad snorted as he strode through the tunnel, his gaze sweeping over the line of gathered Elves. His reddish eyes flicked from one trembling figure to the next—until they landed on Pinaka.
Unlike the others, Pinaka bore no burn marks. For a moment, Rachad frowned. Then, he noticed the blood-soaked bandages where the Elf’s thumbs should have been. His lips curled into a slow, cruel smirk.
"Another baby Elf has joined us."
Pinaka stood sixth in line. Mahnaka had pulled him in early, hoping to keep him away from the Fire Whip. Standing just ahead, Mahnaka tried to stay still, but his body wouldn’t listen. His shoulders tensed, hands twitching at his sides. As Rachad got closer, the tremor in his stance became impossible to ignore.
‘Please, go away! We didn’t do anything wrong!’ Mahnaka cried inwardly, his stomach churning while his scars acted up in response to the heat radiating off the Fire Whip.
"Name?"
Rachad ignored Mahnaka and turned to Pinaka, scowling as he had to tilt his head slightly upward. At 155 centimeters, Rachad was short—even newborn Elves stood taller. Pinaka, just born, had already reached 165 centimeters, surpassing him by a full ten centimeters.
The height difference grated on Rachad, but Pinaka’s silence set him off. Without warning, the Fire Whip lashed out—crack!—searing a red-hot mark across Pinaka’s cheek.
"Are you deaf, you little runt?" Rachad growled. "Or do you think you're too good to answer me?"
“Argh!” Pinaka screamed and collapsed on the ground. His hand shot to his cheek, where raw, scorched flesh sizzled against his palm. The pain was blinding.
“He’s named Pinaka.” Mahnaka burst out and hurriedly crouched to assist Pinaka. He turned around and smashed his head on the floor, “Please forgive him, my Lord—he doesn’t know!"
Rachad sneered. "Do you take me for a fool? You think I am unaware?" The Fire Whip cracked again—once, twice—searing into Mahnaka’s back.
Seeing the latter trembling like a withered leaf, Rachad stared at the lock of luscious emerald hair covering Mahnaka’s head, feeling irritated as he grabbed them and pulled fiercely, "Covering for the new kid, are we?"
With a cruel chuckle, Rachad twisted his grip, forcing Mahnaka onto one knee—his head bowed just below Rachad’s line of sight.
“Did you forget your past, Mahnaka?”
Rachad grabbed Mahnaka’s chin, forcing him to face the Elf nailed to the pillar. He said nothing—just let the sight speak for itself—before shoving him away and resuming his slow, deliberate march down the tunnel.
“G-Get up,” Mahnaka crouched beside Pinaka.
“You’re bleeding…” Pinaka’s hands hovered as he scanned Mahnaka’s wounds.
“It's Nothing."Mahnaka said and turned around, rejoining the line, “Just stay quiet and do what the others do.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Pinaka swallowed hard but nodded, falling in line as the procession moved forward.
⊱⨷⟐⨳⩥⚔⩤⨳⟐⨷⊰
Beneath the looming pillar, a fully armored soldier stared ahead.
“Name?”
The first Elf in line stiffened and saluted. "Nunaka. Two tonnes of rice harvested today, sir!"
A massive, lumbering beast stepped forward, pushing a stone cart piled high with harvested grain. The creature towered over them, its five-meter frame casting an imposing shadow. Its thick, rhino-like hide was scarred from past battles, each mark a silent testament to a lost war.
It was an Ogre of the Stone Race—once fierce warriors, now reduced to mere laborers. Unlike the Elves, they had not been wiped out. Instead, the victors had tamed them, shackling their strength for Human use.
The Ogre stopped before the soldier, who methodically inspected the quality of the rice before making a checkmark on his list.
The line moved forward.
The soldier’s eyes narrowed as he barked, "Status."
Nunaka nodded stiffly, and a glowing green hologram appeared before him. It was a Status Screen.
The moment it appeared, Pinaka’s breath caught—he could see it. His eyes darted around, searching for doubt, but there was none. Everyone saw it. His stomach twisted. ‘Dammit! No secrets, then!’
The soldier’s frown deepened. "Your Weight Factor is up by one unit."
Nunaka stiffened. "I… I apologize, sir."
The soldier’s gaze lingered on him—cold, assessing. Then he gave a slow nod. "It’s still within limits."
A pause.
"But if it rises again, you’ll be transferred to the potion factory."
“Y-Yes, I understand.” Nunaka stammered and then saluted, “Glory to the Human Empire!”
“Come here,” The soldier beckoned for Nunaka to come closer. He then grabbed Nunaka's chin, inhaling deeply near his neck, nostrils flaring before he scribbled something onto his notepad. “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 stretched ten stories high—rows upon rows of cages, each housing a reincarnated soul.
One after another, the Elves in the line performed the same actions as Nunaka and relayed their completed tasks while an Ogre hauled their respective harvest for the soldier to check.
“Say 'Status,' and it’ll appear,” Mahnaka leaned in slightly, his voice barely above a whisper, and went to report 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.’
"Proud little thing, aren’t you?" He tilted his head, scrutinizing Pinaka’s expression. "But at least you’re not as mouthy as most newborns. Let’s see if that lasts."
Then, with an impatient wave of his hand, he ordered, "Status."
Pinaka inhaled sharply, remembering Mahnaka’s words. He whispered the command.
A flickering green hologram materialized before his eyes, its translucent glow casting faint shadows across his face. Lines of glowing text scrolled across its surface—strange, unfamiliar symbols he understood effortlessly.
He blinked. How? The language was alien, yet its meaning slid seamlessly into his mind as if he’d always known it.
‘A side effect of my rebirth…? Or does every living thing inherit this knowledge?’
[Name: Pinaka]
[Race: Elf]
[Authority: Wood]]
[Control Factor: 1]
[Weight Factor: 1]
[Volume Factor: 1]
[Range Factor: 1]
[Speed Factor: 1]
[Spell: -]
"Step forward."
Pinaka obeyed, keeping his expression neutral as the soldier scanned his Status Screen. The man sniffed, then frowned slightly.
"You haven’t eaten yet?"
"No," Pinaka answered, forcing himself to stand still.
The soldier barely glanced at him. "You’ll get food in your cell. Move along. Next to Mahnaka."
“Yes,” Pinaka nodded, puzzled by the entire exchange. He didn’t act out and instead kept to himself. His head swam, his body teetering on the edge of collapse. His cheek burned where the fire had licked it, and his hands—where his thumbs had been—throbbed with a dull, crawling pain. Too much had happened. Too fast. He still wasn’t entirely there.
‘Blasted hell!’ He swore in his head and forced his legs to move, climbing the stairs to the fourth floor.
Pinaka’s gaze darted around the prison. His exhaustion faded for just a second as something caught his attention.
One soldier.
A single guard.
He blinked, disbelief crawling up his spine. More than a hundred Elves packed this place. Outnumbering the guards a hundred to one.
And yet, they obeyed.
No resistance. No fight. No desperate whispers of rebellion.
Why?
His fists clenched as he stepped closer to Mahnaka’s cell, lowering his voice. "What… is the deal with this place?"
Mahnaka didn’t look at him. "Wait until the soldier is gone," he muttered. "Then you’ll understand why we don’t fight."
…
Gangnea Daily Article #3
When manifested, every living being that isn’t blind can see the Status Screen of the manifested individual. There are no secrets on Gangnea!