Chapter 15 - Relinquish

Seant’s head and body fell to the ground with a thud, splashing droplets of blood everywhere. The head rolled on the ground and stopped a few feet from Mill’s head.

It faced directly towards Mill. The shock expression in Seant’s face was still stuck on his bodiless head, now forever in that expression.

Mill laid stricken staring at the head. He felt his vision blacking in and out. He was having a hard time registering what just happened.

Then it came to him. That was the head of someone who was just breathing in front of him a while ago.

Screams of horror and fear echoed around. Someone shouted, someone sobbed and someone screamed for help. It was all in different languages but all saying the same.

Amidst it, Mill was fighting the urge to vomit or ran away. He clutched his scrubs so tight that his body shook from it.

He wanted to run away but the fear and panic made his body freeze.

It was happening again.

He felt his eyes beaded with tears but he clenched his teeth hard and forced his body not to move. Because if he did, he might die.

For the past hours, it was all fun and adventure for him. He was even looking forward for the dinner. He never really took it seriously that he was in a new world, with new people and new rules.

The supernatural abilities, or the magic lured him into a dream sense of reality. He never really fully digested what was going on. His brain took a vacation from the trauma it experienced in the Oxygen High, to realize that this was a world he did not know. That it could also be dangerous.

But the reality just sank in.

He might die any second now.

Zomeng, unperturbed, did not care about their reaction and continued speaking. “We don’t care about your lives. We only care about your title bars. We have no reason to keep you all alive. We don’t need you here. We don’t have any use for any of you. Without title bars, you are all useless. Barless humans with no ability to defend themselves.” He burst into a smile. “In fact, we will be even giving you a favor by killing you all, right now. Trust me. Our ways are far more mercier than what you will face in the wild.”

Zomeng looked around, especially to the Dabomens who looked at him with subtle fear and discomfort in their faces. “But don’t worry. I am not that cruel. I only killed this guy because he threatened one of our brethrens. And also because he had a useless title bar,” he whispered the last part. “In this world only the strong are permitted to live. So I am giving you a chance. If you relinquish your title bars, I will give you the antidote and you will be able to move. Here’s the catch, if you are able to survive this night by the morning, we will spare you. We will even—give you a role in this mainland and let you live. You can go anywhere on this island, just survive the night. But if not,” Zomeng's voice turned serious. “If you chose to keep your ownership of your title bars. We will kill you and have your title bars just the same.”

“No!” Mishka shouted at the side. “Don’t believe him. He—”

“Someone shut her mouth.”

“ — not telling the—”

All Mill heard next was a muffled voice. Zomeng moved and Mill watched as his steps stopped in front of him.

“Now, let’s start with you,” Zomeng said.

“Father, I’ll have him after,” Zandro said to the side, smirking. He was speaking in Dabomen language.

“Why?”

“I have some business with this nosy guy. Let him think he has a chance to live, I’ll play with him later.”

Zomeng nodded nonchalantly. “Make sure to kill him after. I have a bad feeling with this kid.”

“Anyway Father, why not just kill him or all the altas right now? Their title bars are there. We don’t need them anymore.”

“You're still barless so you don’t know.” Korsner replied instead. “Title bars that are manifested have their manifestor’s mark automatically. Only the one who manifested it can use it. Unless… they relinquish their ownership to it.”

Zomeng nodded. “Now that you say it, let’s make him last then.”

Zandro was confused. “Why? We should take his title bar first,”

“Don’t be stupid.” Korsner knocked Zandro’s head. “Look around you,” Korsner whispered but Mill could still hear it as he was directly below them. “Do you really think any of them would not die to take the name title bar, the first thing it was available? If not for the bar islands being close and your father’s Ten Bar status, they would have mobbed it already.”

“He’s right,” Zomeng said. “Let’s give those we trust a pacifier first. Guard the kid.”

Zomeng then went to the side.

Mill was just at their feet so he heard everything they said. They were speaking in their language but they did not know that Mill could understand them.

Mill initially decided to relinquish the title to them, they already have it so what could he do? The title bar would be useless to him if he was dead anyway But apparently they never planned to keep him alive in the first place.

Resigned, he closed his eyes, removed the image of Seant’s bodiless head in his mind and reluctantly waited for his death. If he was going to die, then might as well make it harder for them to take whatever they wanted from him. They wanted him to relinquish, and whatever that was, they had to take it in his dead body.

He clutched his stomach without caring if someone saw him move. He was very hungry.

No one reacted to his move and instead he heard Zomeng ask someone if they wanted to give their title bar or die.

The female altaworlder agreed instantly.

“What should I do?” she asked.

Mill heard a metal sound and then followed by a woman's yelp.

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“Relax, it’s just a small cut,” Zomeng said. “Put your title bar above it and say this ‘I— relinquish my ownership to this title bar.’ Then you’re free to go.”

“T-that’s it?” the female altaworder asked.

“Yes.”

The female altaworlder said those words, relinquishing her ownership to her title bar, and then Mill heard footsteps of running after that.

They really let the female altaworlder go.

“Check it,” Zomeng said.

A male Dabomen went to the crystal altar with a red title bar in his hand and touched a bar crystal. The title bar in his hand lit up but only half of it was lighting.

“I see,” Zomeng said while nodding his head.

“What happened?” Zandro asked. “Why was only half of it lit? Should we grab the alta back?!”

“No need, it’s expected.”

“Expected?”

“Owned title bars sometimes needed some time till it be ownerles.” Zomeng’s voice turned grim. “But only half of it? It’s much longer than I expected. We could only wait.”

“They’re rare title bars,” Korsner added.

“How long?” Zandro asked.

“We tested common titles before,” Kornsner answered. “It still has its ownership but only tenths of it. It took a month.”

“That long?”

“I have a way,” Zomeng reassured.

“Oh. That way?” Korsner said.

“What way?” Zandro asked.

Zomeng smiled. “What's a better way to take someone’s property than to kill the owner first.”

This discovery shocked Mill a little. He realized it already. There was really no reason for them to keep the altaworlders alive. If he was in their position, keeping the altaworlders alive was foolish. Why trust outsiders when they couldn’t even trust their own?

Mill noticed how this mainland lacked resources. No farms and ecosystem to hunt. Even the food during the feast was lacking to feed the hundred altaworlders.

Letting the altaworlders to survive for the night was an obvious trap to him. The island was not safe. Something was wrong with the tower of lights, something dangerous. This island was not safe,

“Let’s get this done.” Zomeng said loudly. “The Scourge is coming in a few hours. Let’s have dinner first after this.”

The mention of dinner made Mill hungrier. He did not expect being resigned to his death won’t stave off hunger. He had the urge to laugh but he did not and continued lying on the floor. Even if he was resigned to die, he still wanted to delay it as much as possible.

It might be a foolish dream but he hoped someone would swoop in and save him. But the growing dread inside him and the feeling of impending danger only grew by the seconds. If somehow he was able to escape from these Dabomens, he would still have to face the danger he felt from those towers of lights. There was no safe place anywhere.

He wanted to scream from the frustration, but his proactive thinking habit made him imagine doing it first in his head and it only ended up doing nothing. Regardless, he imagined himself in his mind again and he screamed in it so loud. He also cursed his father, his grandfather, the stones, these Dabomens and any god that existed.

Despite doing it in his head, he still felt released. It was his go-to coping mechanism. But it still sucked out his mental energy. He was even more hungry and parch.

The Dabomens continued plundering title bars from the altaworlders. Several Dabomens attended to the altaworlders to save time. Minutes passed and almost half of the altaworlders had been taken off their title bars.

Almost everyone agreed to their terms and gave their title bars. There were some who resisted but after some beating, they folded in and gave their title bars.

Each footsteps that faded to the distance made Mill envious. By now, he was willing to relinquish his title bar, if that could only let him go.

He imagined begging, even if he hated doing it, but there were no reasons for them to keep him alive. He had nothing to leverage. What was his use? Knowledge from another world? They could get anyone, not necessarily him, but they never asked anyone for it. They might not need it.

He had no money and no skills to offer. His title bar? He would have to reveal to them first that he understood what they said and demanded to let him go and he would relinquish his rights to the title bar.

They could promise to let go of him, but it would be empty. He knew they needed him dead and him being able to understand their language would give them more reason to eliminate him.

Then it was Clarese and the other Sinilian’s turn. Like the others, they also agreed immediately to relinquish their title bars, but instead of running away, they stayed.

“Let’s wait for Mill first,” a Sinilian suggested. It was not Clarese who suggested it. It was from a guy whose name Mill couldn’t even remember.

“I agree,” Clarese said.

“But… we’ve been waiting here for a while. They seemed to be keeping him last.”

“Let’s just wait for him at the bottom or at the slope! Not here!” someone suggested hastily.

Mill could hear the Sinilians from where he was lying down. He really appreciated their choice to wait for him but he knew it was for nothing. If he could hear them, the Dabomen could too.

“What are they saying? They keep looking at the name kid.” Zandro asked, noticing the Sinilians.

Instead of answering, Korsner ordered the Dabomen around, “Get them away.”

The Dabomens approached the Sinilians and threatened them. It did not take long for the Sinilians' running footsteps to flow from the ground towards Mill’s ear. Each fading sound was like a scratch in his heart. But he accepted it and was thankful that they waited for him. If there was a next time, he would give effort to know their name.

Finally it was his turn. The last of the altaworlders had already run but Mill couldn’t care less. As time passed, the dread he was feeling only grew to the point that he was shaking from the chills of it while on the ground.

He did not care if they noticed that he could move. He only felt doom crushing his hope inside. The feeling of those towers intensified that he did not even notice that someone had just prop him on a chair.

He opened his eyes while trying to ignore the danger he was feeling.

He watched as Zomeng brought his title bar and placed it in his lap.

Zomeng pulled Mill’s chin upward and looked at his eyes. “I’m sure you know what to do right now. Relinquish your ownership to the title bar and we will kill you— I mean free you. We— will kill you if you don’t!” Zomeng took a step back and shook his head, his long blonde hair flailing around like a spiked whip. “Woah, I’m spent. Let’s get this over with.” He turned back to Mill. “Now, all you have to say is ‘I relinquish my ownership to this title bar.’ That’s it.”

He then brandished a knife from his belt then nicked Mill’s right palm. He laid the nicked palm facing upwards then put Mill’s title bar above it.

“Say it then,” he cajoled Mill with a smile.

Mill, just like he planned, did not react all throughout.

“Hey! Say it! Or we’ll kill you!” Zandro threaten on the side in Dabomen language.

“He’s right. We’ll kill you if you don’t,” Zomeng repeated.

Mill only continued staring straight ahead. In his periphery, he could see the johaman kneeling on the ground, with guards circling him. He was staring at Mill and Mill saw him shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“Hey. Are you deaf?”

“Was he in shock staring at this head for some time?” a Dabomen said while kicking Seant’s head in the ground.

“Hey.” Zomeng slapped his face.

Mill felt the pain but he did not react. He did not move and let his face turn sideways.

He cleared his mind. He was going to dissociate a little bit.

He was glad he did it as Zomeng then gave him a punch in the gut that made him bowed over, but he did not react more than that. He felt the pain, but at the same time he did not. He was letting the pain unaffect him.

Yes, he could feel that it was painful. But reacting to it would not lessen the pain.

Another punch to his gut. Then someone grabbed his head by the hair then slapped him, this time harder than the last. Then another punch.

It was like a dream to him. He could feel the pain but only for a second. Then his brain would only register it as painful but his consciousness was separate to it.

He had learned this trick before. To cope with pain, sometimes he had to unfeel it. In times when he was in tremendous pain and emotional breakdown, in order to continue living for his siblings, he had to ignore it, retreat to his head and pass it.

It was a wonder about the brain, in order to keep the body alive, they had to erase memories; create new personalities; developed defensive mechanisms; and his was this.

So no matter how much they beat him, it would not affect him. The more they did, the more his brain would deepen his dissociation. He did not care about the adverse effects. He was going to die anyway.

“Cut his feet,” Zomeng suddenly ordered.

Mill heard it but he did not react again.

A Dabomen with many knives in his side, took a long knife from it, and posed to chop Mill’s feet.

Then Mill felt something let go. Not his feet, but something.

At the same time, the towers of light surrounding the whole island, pulsed in light and Mill felt something went out of it.

He watched as small black things went out from the tower of light that was facing him, and they were heading towards the center of the island.

“What… was that?” someone asked out loud in disbelief.

“Its… the Scourge and it’s… early.”