It was a grim night, the darkness cloaking our surroundings like a shroud. The distant, muffled voices of our captors echoed through the air, their words mere whispers in the abyss. Panic surged within me as I regained consciousness, grappling with the disorienting sensation of being adrift in a void. Had this darkness become my afterlife, the price for my past sins?

Slowly, the oppressive dark began to yield to a faint, hazy light, revealing the squalid confines of my prison. The stench of misery and filth hung heavy in the air, a constant reminder of grim reality. The throbbing pain that had overwhelmed me earlier had settled into a persistent ache.

My eyes struggled to adjust to the dim light, and I soon realized that I was not alone. To my left and right, I saw rows of faces, all etched with exhaustion and resignation. I was among them, a part of this wretched assembly.

Among the wretched assembly of faces surrounding me, one stood out—a boy, young like me, with dark hair mirroring my own. His eyes mirrored the fear and disbelief that had gripped my own heart, and when he whispered my name, it sent shivers down my spine. his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and disbelief as if he had seen a ghost.

"Vincent?" he whispered, his voice trembling.

The sound of my own name, spoken by a stranger in such a desolate place, sent shivers down my spine. It was then that recognition flickered in his eyes.

The nameless boys voice trembled with emotion as he replied, "Vincent... your alive how are you alive.""

Who... Who are you?" I stammered, my voice carrying both confusion and a glimmer of hope.

"Did you forget me? We're from the same village,

As he spoke, I reached behind my head, my fingers probing a large gash, revealing the fresh wound. Blood flowed from the injury, staining my ragged clothing and matting my dark hair.

As he spoke, I reached behind my head, my fingers brushing against a large gash that oozed blood, staining my ragged clothing. Memories surged forth, vivid and relentless. The sight of my village in ruins, my family's lifeless bodies, and the heart-rending wails of grief—I could feel it all as if I had lived through it again.

I saw the blood-soaked earth of my village, the once-proud homes reduced to smoldering ruins, and the lifeless bodies of my parents, their eyes forever frozen in anguish

I couldn't suppress a gasp as a tidal wave of memories crashed over me, leaving me breathless in its wake. The merciless assault, the all-consuming blaze, and the haunting echoes of anguished screams—all of it unfurled vividly before my eyes, like a nightmarish tableau of unspeakable tragedy. Marco, the boy whose name had surfaced in my fractured recollections, stood beside me as a fellow survivor. We had both been spared the clutches of death, only to be ensnared by the unrelenting chains of unimaginable suffering and enslavement.

Marco, his eyes gleaming with a mix of relief and joy, began to unravel the dark tapestry of our shared past. He recounted how, in the aftermath of our village's annihilation, I had been discovered crying amidst the lifeless bodies of my family. The heart-wrenching scene unfolded as multiple men attempted to pry me away from my deceased kin. However, the anguish that enveloped my young heart refused to abate, and my cries continued unabated.

In a desperate bid to save my life, Marco had shielded me from the slave master's wrath. With a quick wit and immense bravery, he managed to divert the furious man's attention. But fate had conspired against us, for my inconsolable sobbing had already incurred the wrath of the merciless slave masters. In a cruel bid to silence my cries, they resorted to violence, striking me with the brutal force of the whip's butt. The painful memory of that cruel blow still lingered within me, a testament to the brutality of the world we found ourselves in.

The force of the blow sent me sprawling, knocking me to the ground and leaving me slumped in a lifeless heap. In that cruel moment, Marco had resigned himself to being the last survivor of our village, believing that my young life had been extinguished by the brutality of the slave masters. But by some miracle, I had clung to life, a solitary glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of our shared past.

The revelation of our intertwined past did little to quell the wariness that had taken root within me. My past life's bitter betrayal still echoed in my thoughts, making me cautious and less trusting. As I listened to Marco's account of our shared history, I couldn't help but wonder if this newfound connection would withstand the trials of this harsh and unforgiving world

Glancing at the murky puddle that had formed at the bottom of the cramped slave carriage, I caught a glimpse of my reflection. What stared back at me was a figure with a crown of dark, unruly hair and eyes that burned with a fiery intensity. In different circumstances, I might have even considered myself handsome, but the harsh conditions of this world had left their mark on my body. I was a far cry from the man I had been in my previous life, but there was a raw, untamed quality to my current appearance that hinted at the strength and resilience that lay within.

As the monotonous journey in the slave carriage continued, I couldn't shake the growing urgency to find a way to escape before we were sold into an uncertain fate. The carriage had no visible exits, and the guards remained vigilant, their eyes always on us.

I turned my attention to studying the guards, looking for any potential weaknesses or patterns in their behavior. I observed how they changed shifts, noting the moments when their attention was most divided. Every couple of days, the carriage would come to a halt, likely to restock on food and supplies. It was during these brief stops that an opportunity might present itself.

I whispered to Marco, "When the carriage stops next, we need to be ready. I don't know how yet, but we can't let this chance slip through our fingers."

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Marco nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting a uncertain determinization that matched my own. We had already defied the odds by surviving this long, and I was determined to seize any opportunity that could lead us to freedom but first we would have to escape these chains that bound us.

As I examined the sturdy chains that bound us, Marco noticing me study the chains added, "These chains are mana blockers. They're almost impossible to escape from. The notion of these chains being mana blockers gave me pause. Magic was a foreign concept to me, and I hadn't even realized it existed in this world. With a newfound curiosity, I asked Marco, "Magic?

Marco's surprise at my ignorance about magic was evident in his eyes. He stammered, "Vincent, in this world, every living being is born with magic. It's as natural as breathing. How could you not know about it?"

I tried to salvage the situation, feeling a bit embarrassed by my lack of knowledge. "You see, Marco, my memory is a little fuzzy. I've been having trouble remembering things since... well, since I woke up."

He seemed to accept my explanation, though he couldn't forget the initial confusion I had shown when I first woke up. It was evident that he was still puzzled by the gaps in my memory. Nevertheless, we both understood that comprehending and harnessing the power of magic would be indispensable for our survival in this unfamiliar and hostile world.

As we pondered our predicament, an idea took root in my mind. I leaned over to Marco and whispered, "I might have a way to get out of these chains

Confusion flashed across Marco's face, but he leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. "How?"

I took a deep breath and revealed, "I learned how to dislocate my joints. It was a skill I developed for... different reasons. But if I can get out of these chains, then we can use the element of surprise when the carriage stops."

Marco's eyes widened as he grasped the implications. "If you can free yourself, then we can take the guards by surprise and make a run for it."

I replied "the problem is getting you out". As I was contemplating I made a plan.

The plan to escape slowly formed in my mind. The biggest obstacle we faced was the fact that Marco's chains were mana blockers, making it impossible for him to use magic to free himself. However, we had a sliver of hope.

As we observed the guards during the brief stops the carriage made every once in a while, we noticed a pattern. There was a roughly ten-minute window when the guards were less vigilant, likely because they believed that the sturdy chains were secure enough to hold us.

During this small window of opportunity, I would have to rely on the skills I had honed in my past life. I had become proficient at stealth and sleight of hand, skills that could prove invaluable in this situation.

With a determined look in my eyes, I whispered to Marco, "When the guards aren't watching closely, I'll try to steal the keys from one of them. Once I have them, I'll unlock your chains, and we make a break for it. But we'll only have that ten-minute window, so we need to be fast and precise."

Marco nodded, his expression a mix of apprehension and hope. We both understood the risks involved, but it was our best chance at escaping this nightmare.

As we continued to endure the grueling journey in the cramped slave carriage, we waited for the next opportunity to put our daring plan into action. The darkness that had engulfed us seemed a little less suffocating now, replaced by a glimmer of hope that we might soon break free from the chains that bound us.

A day later, as the slave carriage came to a stop, the fateful moment we had been waiting for finally arrived. It was as if the world itself had conspired to grant us this slim chance at freedom, for there were almost no guards in sight.

I exchanged a nervous glance with Marco, our unspoken agreement hanging heavily in the air. This was our moment. The absence of most of the guards meant that the next ten minutes were our only window of opportunity. It was now or never.

With a determined nod, I began to carefully dislocate my joints, a skill I had acquired through the trials of my past life. The pain was excruciating, but I gritted my teeth and endured it. Marco watched with a mix of awe and concern as I slowly but silently freed myself from the shackles that had held me captive.

Once my wrists and ankles were liberated, I turned my attention to the only guard who was left to watch us. He was sleeping at the far end of the carriage. His snores filled the air, providing cover for my approach. With all the finesse I could muster, I reached for the keys that hung from his belt.

The moment my fingers brushed against the keys, a surge of adrenaline coursed through me. I managed to unhook them without a sound. As I held the keys in my trembling hand, I stole a glance at Marco. His eyes were wide with anticipation, and he nodded, urging me to hurry.

Swiftly, I made my way to Marco, who extended his freed wrists to me. With trembling hands, I inserted the key into the lock and turned it. The click of the unlocking mechanism seemed deafening in the otherwise silent carriage. We both held our breath, fearing that the noise would rouse the guard.

But luck was on our side, and the guard continued to snore, blissfully unaware of our daring escape. Marco's chains fell away, and he wasted no time in rubbing his sore wrists. We shared a brief, triumphant smile, knowing that the hardest part was yet to come.

Our time was limited, and we couldn't afford to hesitate. With a final glance at the slumbering guard, we made our move. Together, we pushed open the carriage door and slipped out into the unknown, leaving behind the life of captivity that had been our reality for far too long. Our journey to freedom had begun, and the challenges that lay ahead were nothing compared to the trials we had already endured.

As Marco and I slipped out of the slave carriage, the other slaves watched us with wide eyes, their expressions a mix of astonishment, fear, and a glimmer of hope. They remained silent, for they knew that any noise could jeopardize our escape. In their hearts, they harbored a silent gladness that we, the children among them, had managed to break free from our chains.

Their unspoken support and the shared desire for freedom resonated among us. I couldn't help but make a silent promise in my heart—I would return for them. Their faces, etched with the hardships they had endured, remained imprinted in my mind as a solemn reminder of the debt we owed to those left behind.

With Marco at my side, we melted into the cover of darkness, our hearts filled with determination to forge a path to freedom.

We ran, our feet pounding against the earth, as fast as our legs could carry us. The wind whipped past our dirt-streaked faces, and in that moment, freedom had never tasted so sweet. The taste of liberation was like a rare nectar, invigorating and electrifying. Every step we took, every breath we drew, was a testament to our defiance against the chains that had once bound us.

Our hearts raced not only with the exertion of our escape but also with the exhilaration of newfound freedom. The world around us was vast and unknown, but we welcomed it with open arms, for it was a world where we could finally determine our own fate. With every stride, we left behind the shadows of our past, and in the darkness of that night, we embraced the promise of a brighter tomorrow.

In a world that had despised and discarded us, we had somehow managed to slip through the cracks, eluding the clutches of our oppressors. Our escape was a testament to the strength of our will and the unbreakable bond that had formed between us. Though the world may have scorned us for our dark hair, branding us as bearers of misfortune, we had defied its expectations and emerged as survivors, forging our own path in the face of adversity.