“The solution finally came when a Rasts had appeared to end his life. If pain was what caused his suffering, then he shall simply remove pain. He stood up. His knees creaked and ached. He’d kneeled for 7 weeks. The fallen had disappeared. Swept away by the rivers of time. His body was suffering. He hadn’t eaten, nor slept, nor had a drop of water. All he had was a purpose. It fuelled him.”

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For the fourth time since he came to this world, John laid down to sleep, but unlike the other nights, he found sleep eluded him.

He was downright exhausted. Wanting to collapse the entire day. Even though his mind "Slept" almost the entire day, it was like a bad dream. A heavy pressure threatening to break him . Only when something unexpected happened, like someone collapsing in front of him, did his body wake him up.

It probably wasn’t anything supernatural that let his mind sleep while his body worked, John thought, it most likely as just him falling into deep meditation, something he normally practiced extensively to sharpen his mental focus in class, but just done in reverse, to save energy rather than increase his output, just like moving efficiently to save energy rather than lifting those few extra kilos when deadlifting.

He tried to lie as still as possible, then tried to toss and turn to find a more comfortable position, but it wasn’t until he lied on his back determined to meditate himself to sleep, that he heard the quiet sniffling of a crying child.

Opening his eyes to see the bright full moon shining softly through the cracks in the shed they were sleeping in, turned to see if he could find the source.

His eyes eventually wandered over to the source of the sniffling. It was a small girl, the youngest person out of all of them, the one he saw on the first day, quivering slightly under the piece of fabric they called a blanket.

The ground no longer bothered him, his mind finally having adjusted to the signals his body was sending him. His feet had grown entirely numb.

He tiptoed over to her ‘bed’, lightly touching her blanket. She gave a low squeak at his touch. She shuffled slightly under the blanket and he assumed she was peeking through a hole in her blanket. And saw him crouched beside her.

She carefully moved the blanket to reveal her head, as if she was trying to let as little heat escape between the gaps as possible. He couldn’t see her very well in the soft moonlight, but could tell she’d been crying, as the tears softly reflected the moonlight.

John said nothing, but merely took her hand and held it tightly, trying to reassure her it was going to work out.

John held it quietly until the sniffles faded entirely, and her breathing had steadied.

He gently let go once he was sure that she’d fallen asleep. Went back to his own bed, falling into a deep sleep.

When he woke up the next morning, before the usual bell rang and before he even opened his eyes, he felt something furry right beside his neck. It was warm, quietly giving heat to him through the night, he knew. Somehow.

John slightly stirred, and in an instant, it was gone. He felt whatever it was, leap from his bed onto the ground below and scurrying away.

‘That’s weird…why am I so certain that whatever animal it was, is friendly? Sure, it could be a subconscious decision by my childish body that the animal that helped keeping you warm is certainly friendly. But somehow, I can’t believe that it’s even a very weird coincidence. It is friendly. There is no doubt about it. It was there for that exact purpose, and when I woke up, it left.’

‘The only thing I can attribute it to, a wild animal coming to help me keep my warmth in the cold night, is the Latin part of his name “Simiae”, which I don’t know what means. Or my title, “Apprentice”. Apprentice to…what? Magic? No, I haven’t been able to see any magic so far…Animal trainer? Zoologist? Biologist? What profession makes you innately aware of an animal’s intention…None that I’m aware of, so something in this world that Thomas had knowledge of.’

‘I haven’t seen any animals yet, I don’t know if they’re the same as the animals from my world or not, so I can’t not discard that it could just be a very trained pet, some intelligent species that is native to this world.’

The bell rang not even a minute after John woke up, having finally adjusted to the “alarm” clock wake up time.

There wasn’t anything abnormal for the rest of the day, and his mind shut off as usual, just the normal rock carrying to the pit, it was obviously inefficient as even John could just build a wagon or something similar to move more rocks faster than he was doing it by hand, such an obvious inefficient method wasn’t used unless it was on purpose, to keep them weak and unable to resist. They were even given rocks according to their speed and size, and they were fed just enough food to keep them alive, but not enough so they could recover energy. Although it wasn’t always perfect, and sometimes they received too little food or too large rocks, hence the occasional death or collapse.

He glanced at the girl he’d comforted to sleep yesterday and was unsure whether he should introduce himself, but eventually elected to simply act like everyone else like usual, he knew little about children and hoped that just being a mysterious reassuring protector in the night would help her, provided she hadn’t seen his face in the darkness.

Some part of her spirit must’ve been uplifted a lot, because she seemed to have more energy than usual. A slight smile was easily noticed amongst the empty desert of energy.

John, for his part, was recovering from his breaking point when he arrived, saving as much energy as possible and carefully controlling his movements, and whilst he was still dipping into that energy reserve every now and then, he wasn’t at the risk of collapsing unlike the others. The girl, too, seemed to step away from the edge, although her smile had faded, falling back into the expressionless face that every slave seemed to carry.

The mind was a powerful thing, so just simple, quiet encouragement could, in some cases, save people from surrendering to death.

The pit they were dropping rocks into was close to being filled. The pit itself was ridiculously deep and wide. Almost a hundred slaves had worked on it, albeit inefficiently, for several days and it was just now being close to filled.

John hadn’t seen the old man that had encouraged him since the first day, but hoped he was okay working somewhere else.

The first part of the day went by as normal, luckily with no one collapsing from exhaustion. Just as the afternoon passed, something weird happened.

The bell that usually told them when they were having meals rang, and everyone not carrying rocks stopped. John wondered what was happening.

The slave masters waited for every slave that had been carrying rocks to drop them into the pit, before they unceremoniously directed the slaves to go over to the side and sit quietly.

John naturally sat at the front, hoping to figure out what was going on and didn’t have to wait long before an old man appeared, strolling to the edge of the pit from the building the slave masters stayed in, a shoddy thing that just looked like a very large square cabin, the walls just being large logs, undoubtedly cut from the trees surrounding them.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

it was much better than the not-very-windproof shed they were living in, however.

The old man looked exactly like an evil military commander would look like in a video game. His white hair and slightly wrinkled face were the only things that told John he was old because he had a camouflaged sleeveless shirt that showed tanned heavily muscled arms, coupled with his short, trimmed hair and claw scar on his face.

He held a dark green Jewel in his hand, as he stood staring down at the pit. He raised it above his head, and it started shining, a light so bright John could easily see it even in the sunlight.

The jewel seemed to suck the surrounding light into itself, and the entire world darkened. The bright sun seemed to disappear from existence, and it was suddenly dark as night. The only light to be seen was from the jewel in his hand.

Suddenly, a green glowing aura seemed to emerge from the jewel, the aura took the shape of a dozen tiny strings, strings that slowly and hesitatingly moved forward, as if unsure. The tips of the strings wiggled back and forth like they were searching for something, carefully drawing a dome shape around the pit, each string forming its own circle, getting smaller at the top.

Then, the aura solidified, everything locking in place whilst it started shining even brighter than before.

John heard howling wind. It sounded much like wind crashing against windows, a sound some people find comforting whilst drinking cups of tea.

But John knew, no, he was certain, that the jewel was crying, it was crying in pain. He didn’t know why he knew it, but that sound was its call for help. Whatever the evil commander was doing was hurting it.

The howling intensified, as did the shining of the strings. The only thing he could see at this point was its light. He realized it wasn’t light, because he couldn’t even see his own hand. Only the cage was visible in a sea of darkness.

Then, it pressed, John was suddenly pushed to the ground, every part of him that had joints moved closer to the ground, whether or not it hurt him, the pain was overwhelming, and he wheezed as air was squeezed out of him, and from the surrounding groans, this was happening to everyone.

Gravity had increased. He couldn’t breathe. He was being crushed under his own weight, not even being able to lift a finger.

Just as he felt himself about to pass out, the ground shook and a deafening rumble followed shortly after.

Then, it stopped.

All at once, gravity’s hold on him lessened. The light returned as if it had never disappeared, and the howling ceased.

Whilst he was gulping back the air that had been squeezed out of him, John only had a single thought going through his mind:

‘Okay, magic definitely exists.’

When he was finally conscious enough to get his bearings, he looked over at the evil commander.

The first thing John noticed was that he was no longer standing above the pit, because it wasn’t there. It had disappeared; it was completely gone.

The ground they’d walked on was completely smooth, almost unnaturally so. The giant pit in the middle of the clearing was gone too, like it had never been there.

He was shocked, because there was no longer any physical proof of what they’d been doing for the last several days. Even the giant pile where they were handed rocks had simply been wiped from existence.

The evil commander surveyed the area and nodded satisfyingly.

Then he disappeared into the building they stayed in, that somehow still stood untouched despite the increased gravity inflicted upon the area.

John didn’t have to wonder what was going to happen to them now that they were jobless, because one of the slave masters stepped up and plainly announced:

“Tomorrow you will start working again, so rest up, because you’re going to need it.”

That was all the encouragement the slaves needed, and they shuffled over to their shed and promptly laid down to sleep, despite it being in the early afternoon.

John didn’t go to sleep straight away, but found an empty corner and did some stretches. As an experienced athlete, he knew what he should do in order to minimize injury risk, something that could very well save his life in his current situation.

No other slave had the energy to care as long as he didn’t bother them, so he wasn’t disturbed, although he didn't even get a weird look.

It took around 20 minutes, but when he was done, he also laid down to sleep, and passed out whilst only a single thought was going through his head:

‘What did we just bury?’

He was woken up in the evening for his dinner, but they were otherwise undisturbed, and fell back to sleep.

The next time he woke up, he again felt the furry animal beside him. He wasn’t sure how long he had before the “alarm” bell woke everyone else up, so he daintily moved his hand over to touch it, hoping it wouldn’t run away like yesterday morning.

And it didn’t. When he lightly brushed his hand against it, it didn’t dash away, but yawned and delicately crawled onto his chest. Only then did he dare to open his eyes, to identify his companion.

It was…A mink? Or a weasel or stoat, he couldn’t tell. It could be any of them. He wasn’t sure how large they normally were, but it was larger than he expected, almost 40 centimetres long.

When looking closer, he wasn’t sure it was any of them. Its fur was brown, with a white stomach, but you couldn’t fail to notice the green pattern on its body, that looked like symmetrical tribal tattoos.

Its eyes were the strangest part of the animal. They were almost eerily intelligent, unlike those of a dog that were always happy. These eyes were studying you, like a predator stalking its next meal.

But John wasn’t scared. He felt like it was a familiar companion, his companion. He knew it wouldn’t hurt him, just as he wouldn’t hurt it.

He whispered to it, “We’re leaving today, I don’t know where we’re going.” He was unsure if it understood him, but some part of him told him it was intelligent enough to do so.

It stared at him for a few more seconds before it nuzzled him.

That’s when his heart melted, he’d kept his guard up the entire time he’d been here, never allowing himself to fully grasp his situation, not even being sure if his brother was searching for him, it was just a hope he carried with him to prevent him from giving up.

He finally saw proof that something or someone cared about him in this new world, so he allowed himself to shed a single tear and a smiled happily.

‘Maybe I can get through this. If this little guy believes in me, then I can’t give up on myself.’

Then, the “alarm” clock started ringing, and it was but a single moment before his companion had disappeared out of sight.

He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the moment for a while longer before finally getting out of bed and stepping outside.

What faced him was several military trucks standing in line, probably to move them to their new working location.

A man stepped up, armed with a gun, and started directing them.

“Alright, listen up people, hurry and get in the trucks. We don’t have all day, and since you had such a nice day off, no breakfast today.”

‘A gun? They have guns and vehicles in this world? They look to be from WW2, so there’s been an industrial revolution. Probably.’ John thought as they shuffled him into one of the trucks, none of the slaves resisting but just wearily doing what they were told.

Most of them had turned into emotionless husks, which was an anomaly he didn’t know how to figure out. Earlier he’d just chalked it up to exhaustion, but even after resting almost an entire day, they still didn’t show any human emotion, simply working until they collapsed.

Only when facing death did they turn human again, some crying, some begging. John had grown numb to it, but never forgetting the faces of the dead, as they were thrown into the pit to be buried.

‘But the girl cried without being near death, she showed emotion…Why? What makes me and her special? I know magic exists now, so maybe a curse? Or are we drugged? No, children should be more affected than others, so the adults should show emotion whilst children turned into robots.’

‘Hmm, my companion maybe? He’s maybe what makes me immune to whatever is happening, but what about her? Does she have a companion as well? That could be a possibility…Wait, the old man as well. He showed emotion when he saved me and then immediately disappeared. What is up with that?’ He mused, eventually just chalking it up to magic.

The trucks took off. John was one of the last people in the truck so he could see out the back. A very bumpy and boring ride. A forest that seemed endless. He didn’t know exactly how long they’d been driving, a few hours at least, but the scenery didn’t change at all. Just forest and road.

After what felt like forever, with not a single person saying a word or even grunting, they arrived.

‘It's a mine,’ John realized as he stared at the hole, ‘straight into a mountain so tall I can’t see the top of it.’

‘Is this where the rocks we carried came from?’ He noted the rocks they carried and the mountainside, when he glimpsed the small areas weren't covered in plants, had the exact same colour.

Again, someone stepped up to announce instructions.

“You lot will be the new miners huh, are you sure they won’t break after the first day? The last ones all died after only 2 weeks; I don’t think these ones will last more than 1…” He said aloud.

“Alright, you can easily enough figure out what your job is, so I won’t bother to explain what you’re going to do. You’ll find out when you get there.”

Then he turned around and spoke to someone behind him: “send them down, they’ve rested enough.” He ordered smugly.

They were simply handed picks, all the same adult size, and marched over to the mine.

John realized that the mine was at an angle, and they were not mining into the mountain, but under it.

The tunnel itself was very wide and well lit, with electric lights at equal intervals. The walls were, as you’d expect, rugged and sharp, but shaped in an arch, to minimize the risk of collapse. That, at least, was done well. They didn’t look too eager to cover up whatever they were trying to mine. In the middle of the mine were rails.

‘Probably mine carts, or I hope so, as it’s going to kill me very quickly if I have to carry whatever we’re mining all the way up.’ He thought as he stared down the tunnel, not seeing an end.

Walking at the very front, he was the first to see, and only one to react to, the decomposing body leaning against the tunnel, a worn pickaxe lying beside it. The other slaves simply walking straight ahead with the pickaxes in their hands, ignoring the body, as if it didn’t exist. Evidently, they didn’t bother to cover up the bodies that died down here. Not that there was any obvious place to do so, unlike with the pits.

‘But there isn’t any ventilation down here. Are we all going to die from CO2 poisoning?’ he shivered at the thought. He already wanted to go back to carrying rocks. At least he could see the sky. The only source of light were the lamps on either side.

The tunnel never swerved, it just continued straight ahead at a continuous angle. They saw several corpses on the way, some more decomposed than others, all with worn pickaxes lying beside them.

His feet felt like lead when they finally reached the end. There were a few movable platforms in order to get to the entire wall, and a pump trolley with a few carts at the end. That was it. No one was there, no slave master to check that they did their work.

John became acutely aware that something was wrong with the slaves when they didn’t pause, but simply started hacking at the walls robotically.

Not reacting to John, who simply stood gaping at the scene in front of him, not speaking, only the sound of their pickaxes hitting the stone was heard.

“Hello?” He spoke.

No one reacted.

“Hello! Can anyone hear me?” He spoke again, this time shouting as loud as he could.

Still, no one reacted.

He walked over to one of the slaves, pushed him lightly. Besides balancing himself, he continued to hack at the walls, and whenever a large piece fell off the wall, another slave picked it up and put it in one of the carts.

Intermittently, a slave shovelled the gravel into a cart when there was enough of it.

They looked like zombies; the only thing that convinced him they were humans was their heavy breathing and red faces from the exertion, but besides that they had glassy eyes and were expressionless.

Eventually he went over to the girl he comforted the night. She was shovelling gravel onto the cart, and shoved her so she fell onto the ground.

He waited for her to do something, anything. A reaction to getting pushed to the ground.

Instead, she stood back up, and with her shovel, picked up the gravel she dropped, and walked over to the cart.

Something was very, very, wrong.