1. Deep in a mine.
Weged in a crevis of a dark mine shaft huddled a pityfull exuse of a human beeing. You would need a good look at him to identify that he indeed was human. Long dirty hair, which is graying despite his young age, a hunched gount body riddled with scar tissue that seemed to have unlearned the upright walk in these narrow tunnels. You might think him near or already dead, if there weren´t eyes that looked out of this mess, defient.
He had no name but a number, burnt in the flesh of his upper right arm a long time ago. The branding was still clear in his memory. But not the oldest memory he had. There were unclear pictures of the streets of a city. Of a clear sky. Rain and sunshine. Bitting cold and hunger. Of a life where he had been free. Not happy, not safe, but free.
But since the branding he had only known this world. The dark hot and endless mine, where he and the others worked for the clean ones. In a world without the slightest hint of the time going by he slept when he was too exhausted to go on, he ate what he could and got from the clean ones and he worked to get them the small shining stones and the stones with tiny glittering bits in them they wanted and gave him food and tools for.
He was here for a long time. Longer than most of the others. He knew he would not have much more time before he died like everybody did. At least as everybody that didn´t die through an accident. The shivers he had them for a long time now, did come more often and did take much longer now. And with each time they got worse. It was always one of the three that killed you. The shivers, where the body got hot and cold, while a violent twitching held your body in it´s clutch. The rot, when the skinn got patches of black and you died one part of your body at a time. Or the wasting, where you just wasted away losing every ounce of strenght until you could only lay there until even breathing seemed too exhausting. It was hard to tell here if it happened to everybody after the same amount of time, but it happened before you became something that was just in his memorys, an adult. He hadn´t seen one since his branding, even the clean once were none.
There were way more questions than answers in his life. As why he was here. But he knew it didn´t matter anymore. He was dying. For him it would be the shivers, he had the rot too, but the shivers where the worst, so they would get him befor the rot could. He clutched the sack in his hands, in it his tools and food, he had brought his rocks to the clean ones just before coming here. Did it even matter anymore? Eating, working to get more food. Should he just stay here in this noock and wait for the end? He started to come here a while ago. Not far from here was a bigger cave where a big group of the others huddled together. He didn´t want to be around the others. Not since long ago when he was much smaler and she was there for him and others. Not since the wasting had taken her. He had tried to give her his one food. But she didn´t eat and just died. He didn´t want to be around the others. But he somehow felt better near them. Not too near, but nearby. It helped even to endure the shivers.
Soon they would find his body and bring it to the clean once. The clean once gave you a lot of food for a body. But only if it died by itselve. They didn´t like if you kill or rob one of the others. They needed the others to get their stones. And they had this glowing orb, that knew when you lied. They asked questions whenever you brought them something. And if you broke their rules, your number would go on their board. It was a big board and nailed to it were the skinns with the number branding of those that had broken the rules. That pice of skinn was all you ever saw from those rulebreakers ever again.
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He hated the clean onces. They sat behind their wall, where the outside must start. They were clean, they wore clothes and looked healthy and well-fed. They took everything and gave so little, just enough to get you to bring them even more. And at the end they even took your dead body. Suddenly he made a decision. They wouldn´t get his body. He would deny them their last victory. He couldn´t do anything other, but he could do at least that. He would go down deep. There where the tunnels got hoter and hoter. It would make the shivers worse, and he would die sooner. But he would deny them his body.
What crawled through the darkness of a cave was barley human in looks anymore. A twitching mess, clawing at the insects that dwelled here, eating them out of instinct to keep going. If there had been light his skinn would have shown patches of darkness eating away at his scar marked flesh. Any real thought was long gone, was already gone as the carved out mine shafts had gone away, and natural caves had taken their place. All that had stayed was the will to go on, to get away from the clean ones, away from the others, away. Just getting away.
At some point he came to a place with water, not much, but more than the traces he had licked from walls and ground. Shivering, he gulped it down, more and more, until he lay there and just fell deep into his exaustion. His thoughts, all that had made him human was buried deep inside him. Not gone but stored away as it had been in the way of his will to go on. Just instinct remained and kept him going, kept him alive. But for now, darkness engulfed even that.
As he lay there something happened. Something that had built up his whole young life. Mana had infused him passively as long as he lived and finally it´s concentration was enough and inside him a micoscopic Rift broke through to a place where all Mana orginated. But as his former exposure to Mana defined this Rift a nearly pure mixture of Dark and Firemana started spilling into him. Filling him up. There was only a verry small amount of Lifemana in it. Not enough to sustain his health. As the Rift came to life, the world reacted, wanted to treat his Awakening, but the rules came into conflict. He was no beast, but there was no sapient thought in him at the moment. The scales swung unsure how to go on.
The conflict in the rules got the attention of someone, three beeings of power let their sight fall on him as he lay there dying from the Mana that burst into him and had nothing to guide it. Then one of the beeings just put her finger on one side of the scale and the newly awakend curled inton a ball and started to change.
“What did you do?” Asked the Lady of the Harvest. “He is not one of yours. He is human not a beast. Why did you push an Evolution on him?”
“Why not?” Answered the Mother of Beasts. “Neither of you did anything. And he would have died. Why should I not claim him as one of mine? He is already a beeing of instinct, is he not?”
“His sapiens is there, just burried deep.” The Lady stated. “It is not for us to intervene here!”
“Well, I did already. What about it? Now he will live and perhaps he will find his sapiens again. But look at what he has endured. He is one of mine. There is only a small amount of Lifemana in him, and it has already changed. He will need to hunt for more to stay alive. He is a beeing of hunger now.” The Mother argues.
“It would have been better to let him die!” The Lady said. “Much better to let his soul go back in the circle and be reborn. You created an abonimation. But I will not give you just another monster. I will give him the chance to find back to civilisation.” With that the Lady touched deep into the spirit of the poor soul laying and changing on the cave floor and nurtured his sapiens, pulling it back out of the abyss it had crawld into to hide.
“Oh my!” Balance, the third beeing that had stayed silent until now, exclaimed. “What have you both created? Look at him. He is evolving and now a Class is coming to be too, following the call of his sapiens. You two will stop now, or the Rules will make themselves known. But as you both interfered here I will do so too.