In the dark crevices of slavopolis… a teen boy finds himself at the forefront of a new day. Tylor Justifix, the hope of the slaves and the strong willed warrior from another world. His pick smashed against the rock. Bang. A white magic travelled along the handle of the pickaxe and to the tip of the blade. The magic shot out into spurts between the cracks of the rock, expanding like an explosion. It didn’t take long for the rock to crumble against the iron will of Tylor’s mind.
“Energy Surge!” Tylor shouted, and as usual everyone turned their eyes to him. The rock washed away like butter against Tylor’s strange abilities. It was a power befitted of the gods themselves. His growth had been substantial in three years. Hibe could only watch his friend leave him in a cloud of dust...literally. Hibe sliced the rock with his pick, his muscles clearly defined after hard discipline and constant work. “Haha! Calm down Tylor! You’ll get the overseer down here like that!” Hibe said.
“Yarrrrghhhhh!” He screamed, howling in a ferocious display and putting every ounce of his being into the hammering of the tool. The pickaxe head flew off from the abuse, but Tylor didn’t stop. He started slamming his fists against the rock wall, infused with the white mana and his surging energy. The rock splattered into dust as the rock came crashing down in a rumbling earthquake. The first floor had finally been completed after this showcase.
It was obvious with Tylor’s contribution, the entire E-Block had taken leaps and bounds ahead of the other blocks. To the point that the overseer was having trouble finding work for the youngsters. The overseer had watched this display from his quarters. He had been reading a book before the commotion. Sinking his teeth into the soft manifolds of the chicken, he looked down upon Tylor with deep contempt in his heart. It was simply too much for him to understand. Where this energy surge came from, and how Tylor had grasped magic at such a young age. Overseer Akira was almost jealous at this development, because Tylor’s understanding of magic qualified him for overseer in multiple blocks.
Another fact that only the overseer was aware of was Tylor’s notoriety in Slavopolis. Multiple noblemen have been speaking of Tylor as the next A-Block overseer. Akira simply couldn’t let his own slave surpass him. He would break him and send him to the depths of hell if it had to be done! “Call up Rob, I have an order for him.” Akira said. The guard nodded under his black leather armor. He swiftly descended the stairs and brought Rob back up to Akira’s side.
Rob was the head guard in E-Block, he was the senior guard who had been working here for more than twenty years, and Akira trusted him more than anyone else. “You called for me sire?” He asked, kneeling. Even a slave nobility ran rampant underground. This was no different from playing politics in a real court.
“Yes. Rob, I require that this scum be dealt with. I’m sure you know what I mean by that?” Akira said. Rob nodded, his black armor with his senior patch jangled as he adjusted himself to his feet. “Yes sire, I completely understand your intentions. I will adhere to it at once and make myself useful for thou.” He dismissed himself while the fuming Akira swallowed another clump of meat from the bone. He swallowed it whole, his meaty body desired entertainment on this day.
A burst of excitement came from the first floor slaves as Tylor had cleared another hurdle in their journey. Tylor smiled, his resume grew larger by the day and his magic had finally started to manifest after three hard years. The results were absolutely livid. He opened his status screen in his mind to check his stats.
SYSTEM
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Name: Tylor Justifix
Title: The Slave Star
Race: Human
Age: Twelve Years Old
Gender: Male
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Stats:
Level: 13
Strength: 19
Vitality: 17
Agility: 12
Dexterity: 13
Intelligence: 14 (+37 )
Wisdom: 12 ( + 12 )
Luck: 13
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Not bad. The stats were coming together nicely. Tylor hadn’t even told Hibe about the system, and he had no intentions on telling anyone about it either. Hibe came over with his short and stout self and began working while talking to Tylor. “You’ve truly become strong. That magic book was a great choice for you. I can’t believe it’s already been five years.” He entered a trance of his thoughts.
“I know. It’s crazy.” Tylor brushed off the conversation piece and began working at a miserly pace. He felt offset about something, but he couldn’t quite identify the thing that was bugging him. It wasn’t some divine intervention--or so he thought. Tylor collapsed to the ground and his soul was forcefully retracted back to the clouds of space, beyond the endless nebulas, and into the sanctified room. Black. Gray. White. Red.
Soon a cloud of digital fog was presented in front of Tylor. Well-- he was Peter now once again. God had risen from his throne and was walking around the room. His black silhouette remained ever present no matter what direction he took. The room was dark red, and resembled that of an angry man. Peter felt his spineless soul crawl with fear. Intimidated and withdrawn, his bright white orb sifted a few steps back.
“Have you forgotten? Peter Johnson, the ugly virgin soul. Have you forgotten?” His voice beamed into Peter’s mind, overwhelming him with his divine presence. Peter had no idea what he was talking about. What was this crazy god even going on about?! “What are you even saying?!” The room violently shook. “Greater Fracture.” Peter’s mind began to shatter into shambles, like the most painful migraine imaginable, he only hoped he could hold his head.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“W-What the...fuCK?!” Peter’s consciousness was fading in and out. He was suffering for unknown reasons. The reason was this god! For sure. “You’ve forgotten to meet me here. Five years in the pits of hell doesn’t amount to much. For this I will punish you. Your time is not infinite Peter. Do not think you can go at your own leisurely pace.” He held his hand out and a strong magic emanated into his hands. It was iridescent in color as his powerful figure spoke dividends of confidence. “ReeSTART!” A spear formulated into his hand as he jolted it through the air and struck Peter’s soul deeply.
WARNING SYSTEM OVERRIDE - SYSTEM COLLAPSE IMMINENT
SYSTEM
---------------
Name: Tylor Justifix
Title: The Slave Star
Race: Human
Age: Twelve Years Old
Gender: Male
----------------
Stats:
Level: 0
Strength: 0
Vitality: 0
Agility: 0
Dexterity: 0
Intelligence: 0 (+37 )
Wisdom: 0 ( + 12 )
Luck: 0
----------------
SKILLS ERASED. RESET COMPLETE!!!
The spear shot right through Peter in an instant, converging him into a single entity. He was one with the system now. A completely altered soul created by god. “Now remember this child. You have five years to escape Slavopolis. If you can’t manage that, it will surely be your death. I will crush your soul to oblivion. Now begone!” The ushering mannerism of his hand shot Peter’s soul back out into the nebula void. Red. White. Gray. Black.
Then Hibe’s voice boomed throughout Tylor’s ears, muttering words of tears as wetness plastered the supposed dead boy’s face. His eyes fluttered open and the men in the caves suddenly were washed with joy. Even some guards under the overseer’s command looked all too relieved for the occasion. Tylor was more than upset. He had been washed clean. This god clearly wasn’t too forgiving of how much time he was spending down in this cave. It was clear this was a race more than anything else.
Two guards along with Rob bursted through the crowd in a hurry. They pushed slaves over and quickly grabbed Tylor up by his four limbs. “Get his other leg.” Rob ordered a distant guard on duty. He quickly shifted and ran to grab Tylor’s leg. Tylor struggled and kicked, but it was all futile to resist. He was simply a twelve year old boy with a little magic now. The god had erased all of his strength into oblivion. It was clear god didn’t want to let him steamroll the competition.
“Let me fucking go!” Tylor screamed and kicked. Hibe fought the guards by punching one in the face to get him off Tylor, inciting a riot where everyone started fighting the guards with yelling and screaming. “Stop you shitty QUAGS!” The overseer yelled, his bright blue war-axe resonated with a magical aura. Calling the slaves Quags was a derogatory term for the lowest man of society. It was a demoralizing term to distinguish trash from absolute trash.
The room immediately stopped. The eruption of riot was plugged in an instant by the overseer’s intimidating presence in the room. His eyes glowed a blue color of magic, and it was obvious the overseer had no intention of giving up E-Block to a simple slave after all. “Tylor...Tylor….Tylor.” He said in an eerie voice. “I’ve finally had it with you, you shitty quag. It’s time you experience a true hell for your misdemeanors. Your crimes must be punished. Find refuge in solitude you bastard! Ga-Haha! Ga-Haha!” He said.
Akira began stomping his foot into the twelve year old boy’s chest over and over again, repeatedly ushering his three hundred pounds onto him in furious anger. “Quag! Quag! Quag!” He would say in sync with each step against his chest. Tylor began coughing up spit, and then it soon turned an ugly red from constant abuse. “Bring me the iron!” Akira greedily commanded.
A guard shortly arrived with a blisteringly hot iron which had an orange-yellow tint to its frame. It had a handle from which to hold, as the overseer ripped Tylor’s garments down. “A quag must forever be branded for his crimes Tylor! Ga-Haha!” The iron made contact with Tylor’s chest as the guards held him down on his knees.
“AGHhhHHGH!!!” He yelled in a fruitless endeavor. The iron seeping deep into his skin, leaving a red A, in the middle of his chest. Tears streamed from Tylor’s eyes as he struggled free from the guards but immediately passed out from the pain. Hibe couldn’t bear to watch anymore, and threw his fist at Akira, sending ripples through his fat cheeks as his head was forced to turn from the punch. “You bastard!” Hibe said.
Hibe was crying, his shortness made him far less intimidating to the overseer, but Akira was still pissed off nonetheless. “So you wish to join him in hell huh? So be it!” The guards held Hibe down, as the hot iron branded his forehead with a red A. It sizzled against his skin as he began to hyperventilate. “Shit! SHITT…FUCKKKK!” He strained his vocal cords and lost consciousness as well soon after.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
A beaming light shuttered into existence, as Tylor fluttered his eyes open, his head pounding. His chest still felt like it was on fire. Hibe was beside him still completely lights out, this was similar to what had happened when they had been caught. Tylor looked down at the A in his chest, it seemed to be a brand representing that he was now property of Overseer Akira. How dreadful.
They were hanging in a metal cage, hanging from the ceiling in a strange fashion. Below them was a mosh pit of bones and rusted armor. A sudden bong inflamed the arena into a brawl as men dropped from cages and began to fight to their death. “Ahh… Tylor….Hibe. Welcome, to my mosh pit from hell!” Overseer Akira suddenly appeared from a balcony.
“Here you can find the opportunity for glory and success, or death and a bloody mess. Let the show begin, and may luck be in your favor. The nobles of slavopolis are watching after all...best not to disappoint them.” Akira said in a tone of evil spirit. The noblemen laughed and smiled with an eager look on their faces. It was a literal battle arena. From the looks of things it was an illegal ring that focused on betting on Quags.
“Fuck.”