***NOTE*** I will be writing whenever the urge hits me, if people seem to like this story then I will continue with it. Otherwise I may or may not go ahead with some other of my ideas. If anyone has suggestions, I'm more than open to them because this story is not even close to being set in stone. -fatpanda
I am Bayan. My name is the only thing that I actually own. I've been enslaved for as long as I can remember and have acquired countless physical and mental scars to attest for that fact.
In recent days, I've begun to wish for the cold scythe of death. I just want my suffering to end. Whether it be through death or another form of salvation.
A week later...
BOOM! A large explosion rocks the whole quarry. I look up from my work of carrying rocks back and forth from pile to pile and see a single man in a dark purple robe floating in the sky. With every glance at an area, an explosion blasts into existence.
Within a few moments, most if not all of the slavers were dead and the still surviving ones cowered, begging for their lives.
However, the man ignored their pleas, their heads all exploded one by one until no slavers were left.
"Slaves, gather over there!" The man shouts in a powerful voice.
With no other options, I hurry over to an open area where the man directed. As the last of the slaves gathered. The man spoke again.
"Line up!"
With this order, a long line of emaciated slaves was formed. The man looks closely at each man, woman, or child that he passes. The slaves shiver with fear whenever his gaze roves over them, seeming to search for an unknown entity.
Eventually, he stops at a boy of no more than ten years of age. Then the man pulls him in out of line and tells the boy to stand at another spot.
As the man comes closer to my location, he picks out another boy and a toddler of a girl. After an excruciating amount of time, he comes to me. I don't expect much especially since I have no idea what he is picking people for, but just the same my only wish is for some form of salvation whether it be death or living a free life.
However, he pulls me out, much to my surprise and puts me with the other children. Later on in the line of more than three hundred slaves, he pulls out three more boys and two girls all within the ages of four and fifteen.
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Finally, he stops and turns his gaze to us children. He separates us into pairs in which each of them were of similar sizes.
"Each of you has magic potential. If you wish to survive then you must prove your determination to learn magic. In order to show your loyalty and determination, you must kill the person next to you. If you refuse to kill your opponent, then either you will die by his/her hand or mine. Begin!"
Surprised, I am almost unable to react to the rock held by my opponent. Over the years in slavery, I have never experienced emotions like anger, joy, or sadness. I've really only felt exhaustion or pain. Although it may seem surprising that I've never felt anger towards my cruel captors, somewhere inside me I know that those emotions wouldn't do any good. I might as well dull myself in order to do the labor assigned to me so that I could receive some food.
As the boy rushes at me again, I clumsily dodge while sticking out my foot as a trip. This easily knocks the child down. Without any more hesitation, with an uncaring gaze, I pick up a nearby stone and begin bashing in his skull. I keep bashing until I feel bits of brain matter splatter on my face.
Standing up once more, I notice the dark robed man's approving gaze on me. I glance around to see that I was the first of the children to end their fight.
The adult slaves stared in horror at the scene, yet they did nothing, knowing that they were powerless against the seemingly near god-like being standing before them.
As the last of the bloody, vicious fights ended, the remaining children stood. Three boys, one girl. Each of us covered in blood.
The man nodded at us and said, "Well done, you qualify to enter Ether Magic Academy. As for the rest of you slaves, I will be taking your souls."
Turning back around to the remaining slaves, he raises both hands towards the sky. An almost imperceptible screech fills the air as the line of corpses fall to the ground. In the man's hand coalesces a tiny sky blue crystal in the shape of a tear.
"Shall we go then?" Without even glancing back, he uses his magic to lift us all off the ground. We then begin hurtling off into the distance towards an unknown future.