In the city of Slavopolis, a mysterious and eerie feeling touched the hearts of many. The city was for the slaves of the world, and was completely set underground. A city made of junk and sandstone, with interconnecting routes to the mining tunnels that branched out and downward in a spiral formation. The city was lit by magical street lamps. They were objects that retained their light through a permanent form of magical pressure. A few grunts could be heard in the distance.

The clatter of wooden sticks vibrated in the distant alleyway. Among the shadows, two boys fervently battled to their wits end. At the end of one wooden stick was Tylor Justifix, a lower level slave in Slavopolis. He was sparring with his childhood friend Hibe. Hibe was naturally weaker than Tylor, his short and stout appearance said that much alone. He had brown hair and brown eyes. In contrast, Tylor had black hair and blue eyes.

“Take back what you said!” Hibe said in between strikes. They were in their most intense battle yet. The wooden sticks they had carved were bending and shuttering in strange ways. Tylor gritted his teeth, bunkering down against the pain that throttled from the stick and into his aching hands. The spar had been going on for a long time, and if he was going to win, he’d need to end it fast.

“I’ll never take it back! Hunky Hibe!” Tylor said, schemingly. He smiled, surging all of his strength from his waist into his arms and then the stick. The stick was shooting through the air at an unpredictable speed. “Wh--a!” Hibe said, his voice cut off as he planted his feet, struggling to hold the strike back. His face contorted in a hopeless endeavor. “N-No!!!” He muttered under his guttery groans of struggle.

With a badack, the stick shattered in half, leaving Hibe completely defenseless when the stick squarely hit him in the chest. Tylor used the rest of his strength and even took a step forward to make sure he finished the job. Hibe fell back on his ass and slid a few feet before coughing in pain.

Level Up! +1 to all stats

Strength +1

Tylor grinned when the notifications popped up in his mind. He was eager to check them, so he activated the menu with his mind alone. He didn’t even have to use some strange voice recognition mechanic to get the window to display. It just was instinctive at this point for him.

SYSTEM

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Name: Tylor Justifix

Title: The Slave Boy

Race: Human

Age: Seven Years Old

Gender: Male

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Stats:

Level: 5

Strength: 6

Vitality: 5

Agility: 4

Dexterity: 6

Intelligence: 4 (+37 )

Wisdom: 4 ( + 12 )

Luck: 4

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It was a start nonetheless. He closed the window and set his hand out for Hibe who was now recovered slightly from the crazy battle in the alleyway. “Are you okay?” Tylor asked him. Hibe nodded, taking his hand and lifting himself before wiping the sweat from his brow. The man was a valiant warrior for his age.

A booming sound rattled the ears of the boys as they realized what time it was. “Shit! We’re going to get caught out here!” Hibe said. He turned the corner fast and went down the main street. Tylor followed after him and caught up easily. The boys had once again cut it close against the midnight curfew. Any man wandering the streets of Slavopolis at this time was considered an illegal identity, and would face the consequences.

A few guards dressed in black uniform were patrolling the streets. They carried double black batons, one end spiked, the other blunt. Their armor was a painted leather and they wore dark helmets that obscured their identity. Slave Guards had no identity, and were simply forced to enter the profession due to political reasons. Of course seven year old Tylor and Hibe couldn’t care less about such matters.

They scurried toward the hideout they had created over the years. An underground basement dug out under a workshop. Going down the alleyway, and running to the back of the workshop lead to a wooden hatch with a string handle. Two guards caught a glimpse of the boys and began running down the alley with batons in hand. “Hey! Get over here!”

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“Shit! What’s taking so long Hibe?” Tylor shouted. He held his fists in the air as Hibe frantically pulled on the jammed hatch. “I-It’s jammed!” He said with hesitation in his voice before he returned to his plucking. Tylor had maybe a few seconds before they were punished. It didn’t matter that they were kids. Rules were rules.

The trap door hinge busted and sent Hibe flying. “A-aAHh!” He stammered as he tripped backwards, falling into Tylor. Tylor was thrown off guard by this development, as he was shifted forwards into the guards who were relentless in their motive to attack. “You damn kids are about to get drafted for work!” The guard said.

He threw his baton with the blunt end out, and slammed it into Tylor’s head, sending the poor five year old in an epitome of darkness. Hibe would reluctantly follow the same destiny. Being knocked out hadn’t been on Peter’s bucket list of things to do in his new life. He was satisfied with the training he had done with his new friend Hibe, and he was getting quite comfortable with the identity of Tylor rather than Peter. Eventually he might just become Tylor in all seriousness. A new start begins with a new identity

* * * * * *

In a cold sweat, Tylor awakens in a hot room. The room is cloggy with dim light and dust. The room was saturated with permeated sweat and moisture along the walls and floor. Water was dripping from the ceiling. There were several cotton cottages laying around on the floor, with several men in them sleeping hard as a rock. Tylor had examined his hands before realizing he had a massive bandage wrapped around his head. Where was he?

The room was plastered with a green carpet and the walls were made of a strange material that wasn’t recognizable to Tylor. Not that it was significant. Hibe was laying right next to Tylor, still asleep from being knocked out cold. His head was also wrapped. It must have been a precautionary measure of safety then? They were too young to understand the situation they were in, but Tylor still observed quietly.

“Where is this?..” Tylor had discovered one useful feature to the system granted to him by god. The skills menu was probably the most inventive and helpful tool to his expenditure. For his first skill that he unlocked at level three, he decided to go with the safe plan.

Skills:

Observe - Observe anything and obtain clues or information about that said thing.

It was a great necessity, an observe skill allowed him to perceive things that normally aren’t so easy to grasp. With this, he had a significant advantage over his fellow peers. As Tylor’s mother had told him before her recent passing, “The more you know, the better the chances.” Which alluded to success and decision-making. Her passing was unfortunate, but the only doctor in that region of Slavopolis diagnosed her death from stress-related incidents. Peter was indifferent to Tylor’s mother, but part of his human nature still made him cry when the moments called for it.

“Observe.” Tylor muttered under his breath, scanning the room and looking over Hibe’s body. A few notifications immediately displayed themselves.

Hibe - Moderate injury sustained, will awake momentarily.

Room - a basic carpeted room that houses slave laborers.

Stain - This stain has unknown origins.

It was likely that Hibe would awake in a few minutes if the skill were accurate to its name and usage. The room was far more interesting to Tylor, he nodded purposefully as he began to understand the situation. A room for slave laborers meant they had been captured and forced to work at the lowest station of Slavopolis. This meant they had been demoted from street urchins to crappy laborers with zero pay. This would just not do.

Hibe began to wake up. “Ohwh, Guahhwa…” He held his head as he rolled a little bit. It was obvious his head was hurting from the strike. Tylor began to wonder if his symptoms were nullified by his special system. Peter had also sensed an increase in confidence since his arrival into this body. It had been a few years already, but he still was incredibly off put by the size of the small framed body.

Hibe got up, his brown eyes fluttering open as he immediately caught sight of Tylor in a sitting position. “W-Where are we?” His heartbeat sped up. He crawled around in a few circles, trying to grasp what was actually going on.

Tylor smiled a little bit. He was confident he could give a reliable answer in a broad terminology. “I think we’ve been demoted to slave laborers. This is most likely the living quarters for the slaves. We’ll be mining for the rest of our lives at this rate.” He said.

Hibe was incredibly distraught over this factual information. He whispered a scream to Tylor. “We have to get out of here! I-It’s badd!” He tried to emphasize the severity of the situation even more.

“I know.” Tylor said. He put his hand under his chin, propping his elbow against his leg as he remained in a state of deep thought and pondering. There were many decisions to be made, but without the body of an adult, he could only wait for the right moment--and Peter was a patient man after all.

The slam of a door revealed two Slave Guards and a fat man with a chicken leg in his right hand. His face was covered with grease, exemplifying his black hair and black eyes. His hair was slicked back like he was some kind of Elvis Presley copycat. The man wore an oversized black and white coat that wrapped around him tightly. His gut was protruding out from his body and hanging low over his waistline. He looked toward the two boys and took a meaty bite out of his chicken leg before slurping the meat down his throat.

“Well, if we ain’t got two new bitches in this block. Welcome to E-Block you shitty brats! Ga-Haha-Ga-Haha!” His ugly mannerisms made him even more despicable. The fat man walked over closer to the two boys before spitting out a chicken bone in Hibe’s face. “I’m the Overseer around here. You listen to me, got it boys? I’m Overseer Akira. Remember that name well you shitty-fucks! Ga-Haha-Ga-Haha!” He partially wheezed as he turned around. The fat lards running across his waistline to his ass as he walked down and out of the room. The guards shut the door behind him and left the room after a short glance.

Tylor and Hibe were left speechless. How were they even supposed to respond to this Overseer Akira? It was indisputable evidence that he was a total shithead, but they could do nothing about it in their tender age. Even with Tylor’s life advantages, he couldn’t beat a grown man at his age. His body was simply too weak in every capacity.

“Hibe, I think we should just lay low for now. Things may not be looking well, but I don’t think we should rush head in on this.” Tylor said. Hibe nodded in agreement as he tucked himself in his cotton bed on the hard floor. “You’re right. That man is scary!” He said with his cheeks puffed out. The boy still very much a boy.

Hibe couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but Tylor had always been more mature and insightful than anyone his age could ever have been. Tylor could read and write at unremarkable speeds compared to anyone else, and even the Noblemen took notice of it. At the end of the day though, none of it would surmount to anything. Hibe thought of Tylor as special. Tylor was meant for greatness. He could see it in his eyes.