The suffering, despair, and slavery are no longer present, but their homes and happy memories of their beloved hometown are now gone, reduced to ashes. With great sadness, quadrillions of slaves, rich and poor, left their homes. They were so broken that they no longer felt any rage toward them because they knew that no matter how many there were, the powerful emperor's family would still kill them with the flick of their wrists. They were aware of their position and cursed their weakness and helplessness, and many of them missed the former emperor even more.
Quadrillions of slaves went their separate ways, going wherever the wind could take them, others went to the coast hoping there was one so they could take a boat going anywhere as long as it wasn't here, and some just killed themselves out of agony and no motivation to live this sick joke of a life. They cursed themselves for their weakness; if only they had the power to punish them in order to alleviate the pain of their losses, they would give anything, willing to sacrifice anything just to punish those filthy traitors posing as royals.
The other slaves prayed to any God who could grant their wish for power, and they began to kill themselves in order to offer their souls to any God or whatever gave them power. Billions and billions of slaves died simply by performing fictitious sacrifices and rituals. Gods, demons, and even demon-gods sacrificed themselves for Buddha, but nothing happened. They were so desperate for an answer or a ray of hope that even the Gods they used to worship mistreated and abandoned them.
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They had to accept the fact that the weak had to bow to the strong, and the strong were only favored by the Gods. This day of despair would later fan the flames of these helpless and weak slaves' unending hatred for these so-called "Gods." Months flew by, and millions of slaves died every day, totaling a few billion per week. These slaves had the eyes of starving wolves, they did not resort to cannibalism, but they suffered the same fate because they treasured every moment with their fellow slaves, they are the closest thing to family you can have, so they did not resort to abandoning the little humanity they had left in them.
When a slave dies, they say a short prayer followed by a simple funeral, digging graves with the last of their strength to send their friends off to the afterlife properly. Nobody helped the slaves when all hope was lost; they only had each other to keep them sane. They ate whatever filled their stomachs, some even eating dirt to avoid hunger, only to die of disease later. There was no point in living any longer; they lacked proper clothing, money, were frail, and had no place to call home. Until they arrived.