Thom found himself in front of a man.

The man was tied to a chair. His eyes were red and tears streamed down his dirt-stained cheeks. He was struggling to untie himself, he was forcibly and desperately struggling, but there was no way around it. The chair was nailed to the wooden floor, and the ropes were so tight that his arms were bleeding.

Thom took one step back and let go of a confused whimper. A childish voice escaped his mouth, and his steps were short. His body was light. He looked down to find that his right hand held an iron sickle tightly clenched between his fingers. He lifted his wrist to take a good look at the tool's weary and rusted-out edge, a question rapidly fluttering inside his head. Hadn't they recently bought a new sickle? Why was he holding the old one in his hand?

A door was closed behind his back, making him turn around quickly. His eyes shook for a second. A shiver ran down his spine and his breath stopped short of a mouthful— that was a reaction of fear that only one person in the world could produce on him.

He took another step back, but this time, towards the man on the chair. He preferred to be closer to the unknown, gagged man than to his father, Arbur Farmborn.

The door to the shack clicked as the lock fell on its case. The sound of chain mail and metal greaves replaced the one of bending wood. Thom raised his eyes and met his father's gaze, a terrifying pair of black eyes that were no different to a corpse's, buried in deep sockets that made his visage even darker than the night. The permanent frown that squeezed the man's forehead shut was even more pronounced than usual, and his twisted lips arched downward to express his discontent. Thom knew that such a scary face was just the norm for him.

He didn't bother to look at his son twice. Arbur walked slowly towards the shelves and slid his hand across the surface, throwing to the ground the mountains of dust that had gathered through the season. His hands checked lower until he got a hold of an old, dull knife. The old man turned around to press his back against the desk under the shelves, and bit on his own jaw as his hands examined the blade of the weapon. The ambient was somber.

"F... Father?" Thom called out with a nervous tremor in his voice. Arbur didn't care to answer. The muffled screams of the man behind him were the only reply he obtained.

What's going on...? Arbur Farmborn would probably not give him any answer. If he did, it would not be the one he was looking for. A mess was not enough to describe the kid's emotions. A turmoil of nonsense was forming in his heart.

Suddenly, the old man sighed and began to walk. He moved slowly towards the chair in the middle of the tool-filled room, playing with the tip of the knife as he did. When he was close enough, he put one hand on the man's shoulder, making him shake even harder. Arbur opened his mouth.

"Sometimes..." He looked down and fiddled with the lackluster grip of the weapon between his fingers. "Sometimes... You've got to be the man of the family, Thom. You've got to do shit that you ain't want to. You'll work your ass off. You'll spit blood and eat dirt. Then you'll keep working, and working, and working, and working, and working..."

As he kept repeating the same words over and over, the tip of the knife began to bury on the tied-up man's arm. His screams became desperate as blood began pouring from his flesh. It seemed to stop when it touched the hard, warm bone.

"You will work until you're dead... And then, bastards like this will come and say... That you're not allowed to keep what you worked for. That a tenth of your crops are all you deserve... And that the lord of the fucking land needs it to feed himself. You will work nights on end, until you can't stand, but it will never be enough. And someone will take it from you. Someone will... Always... Take it from you."

A disgusting cracking sound could be heard in the room as tears fell down the gagged man's eyes. The knife had gone through the arm. His feet were smacking the floor in a desperate attempt to break free.

Thom was paralyzed in horror. He suddenly understood the purpose of the sickle on his hand. His blood turned cold like ice.

"Tax collectors are... One of the lesser demons you have to conquer before... You go for the king, you know?" Arbur plucked the blade out of the red flesh, and placed it on the man's neck. "The head is the most important part, Thom. You cut the neck... And the rest of the body limps. But cutting some limbs..." His hand touched the man's arm. "That's always a necessary... extra compensation, as they will call it."

"Father, I, I don't want to do this—"

"Oh, but you have to... You have to, Thom, because if you don't, boy, we'll starve. We'll starve, Thom. And it will be a~ll your fault. If this man doesn't die, he'll take our crops for winter, and we won't have anything to eat from. You don't want to see your mother die as she starves, do you, Thom?"

"I, I don't!"

"Then do it!"

Arbur threw the knife to the floor and rushed towards Thom, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

"Do it you little shit! Kill that man, kill him! Why are you crying?! What are you crying for?! I didn't raise a fucking coward, I didn't! If you're not gonna be a brave kid and kill this rat for your mom's sake, then maybe I should have given you to the hogs when you were born! You aren't a little coward shit, are you Thom?!"

"I'm not!"

"Then stop shaking and slice that man's fucking throat! Pull his heart out of his body you ungrateful runt!"

"I can't!!"

Smack!

Thom immediately lost balance. The world seemed to distort as his knees touched the floor and his head swung to a side, his grip loosening at the same time. He felt an iron flavor spread through his mouth. The ground turned into an infinite black void as he landed, rendering his vision useless. A metal boot suddenly landed on his stomach, pushing his body several feet back, making him roll sideways and clash against the door.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

He coughed up a string of blood, but before he could cry out, a callous hand picked him up by the hair. He was lifted up and shaken, making the tears slide off from his eyes.

"He can't take away my work, Thom!!"

A deep, gargling sound escaped his father's mouth. His eyes had turned completely red, and a pair of fangs had begun to grow from his teeth. "My work! My life! They can't go away, Thom!" His skin turned pure crimson as his body began to enlarge, and the wooden planks cracked under his weight. The building distorted and wailed as it imploded, splintering away into the void.

"You! You gotta save me, Thom! Thom! Are you listening, Thom?!"

The colossal monster showed his endless gaze to the boy, expulsing flaming swords with every vocal. His tongue turned to snakes that coiled around Thom's body, constraining his breathing and making him weep uncontrollably with fear. As a warm sensation spread through his crotch, reality distorted into complete impossibility.

A mountain of blazing corpses stood behind his father, who tightly held him with his tongue. The faces all melted off into the air to form the shape of his mother prostrated in bed, dying as she called his name, repeatedly calling his name.

"Thom! Thom! Thom!"

"We don't have enough food for winter, Thom! They want to take away my work, but we don't have enough food for winter, Thom!"

"Dad!" He cried. "Dad, stop!"

"We don't have enough food for winter, we don't have enough! It's never enough, we'll die, we'll die, we'll die!" The shape of the crimson demon turned into a storm that embraced him between its black tails, completely petrifying him. "There's not enough for winter, there's not enough for winter!"

"I know! I know! I'll do it, I'll do it!" He yelled between panicked gasps of pure despair. "There's not enough! I know there's not enough for winter!! I know there's not—!"

Beside the bed, Suu was worriedly holding his hand.

The crystal girl was frantically chanting her spells while hearing the unconscious man scream the same phrase over and over like a charm. Valta was wetting pieces of cloth and placing them over the young man's forehead, trying to control a fever that shouldn't exist in his body. Suu kept calling his name over and over as if trying to pull him from whatever nightmare had taken siege inside his head and refused to stop stabbing at his heart.

"There's not enough for winter!" Thom cried out with his eyes tightly shut. "We'll starve! We'll starve!"

"There's enough Thom!" Suu was about to burst into tears. "Wake up before I slap you awake!"

"There's not enough! Not! Not! Not! Not! Not! Not enough for—!"

The crystal girl finished her chant. "—mother, hear our call and quiet it with light from your holy aura, quench the thirst that we so desperately cry for! [Calm]!"

As her prayer finished, a halo of light appeared on top of Thom's head. Its light covered the room for a short second before it vanished, leaving behind only a remnant that fluttered stop his head. His body stopped moving and his mouth was peacefully closed, delving back into sleep without any complications. The girls in the room sighed out of relief after silence finally took hold of the room, something that had not been there ever since they brought the man inside.

Suu planted her face on the bedroll. Valta simply closed her eyes and silently thanked the crystal girl.

"Why would he collapse like this...?" The black-haired woman asked nobody but herself in a low voice.

The day was supposed to be slightly more relaxing than that.

Suu had woken up early, slightly later than Valta. The woman wasn't feeling exactly well, since she hadn't drunk a cup of coffee, and the realization that she probably wouldn't get to do it in a long time had hit her hard. Suu decided to take her for a stroll around the hob camp, to show her around every disgusting aspect of it. The pigpens, the half-built huts, mountains of excrement and similar things, which had become usual for the black-haired trio, seemed to be the appropriate thing to show the newcomer— just in case she would like to leave afterwards.

The woman had decided to leave the farm for last. It was nothing but twenty hectares of evergrowing plants, but it was where Thom spent most of his day. They spent close to an hour searching for him between the crops, until finally, they found him laying on the ground beside the tubers. Although they were quick to carry him home, in the middle of the trip he had begun to yell something about his father. To Valta it was worrying, but to Suu it was a sad occasion without a doubt.

Now, they both laid beside him as they waited for his recovery. The crystal girl was quietly analyzing the man's body. She seemed more curious than worried.

"I can tell he hasn't been resting well." She said as she checked his face from up close.

"How can you see if you have no eyes?" Suu was the one to answer with a sulking voice.

"I use a complex analysis of light refrac... That is not important at the moment, miss Suu. Thom Arburson is not suffering from any illness in particular, nor has he caught a cold from the weather. His body just shows signs of extreme detriment. He's tired, in other words." The girl carefully caressed Thom's face with her cold hands, sliding down towards his chest. That incited a look from Valta.

"Tired...?" Suu rubbed her eyes. "I know he doesn't sleep that much, but that shouldn't be a problem. As far as I know, he also has [Skyrunners Endurance]... Nevermind, I mean, his endurance is close to twelve times a normal human's. If he's been keeping his body in optimal condition, then I don't see why would he..."

Although Suu was about to finish her sentence, she was promptly interrupted by a memory. It was only for a second, but she remembered the moments where she had been shaving Thom's beard, and his words the first time that she did. Hadn't they talked about how she shouldn't have to worry about mistakes?

"He's been using [Steel Skin] even while working day and night..." Her heart was struck by that thought. At what moment had she seen Thom injured, or his hands wearied? Calluses hadn't been forming on his palms even though he worked the earth every day. The reason for his sudden collapse made itself clear pretty quickly.

"He fell asleep yesterday as we were speaking." Valta interrupted. "But it was nothing more than an hour. I woke up when he did, but feigned being asleep. He carried me to bed and said something about keeping the horde fed."

"What a damn work addict." The dark-haired girl bit on her lip. "He's been working for days straight but he's also been using physical reinforcements to avoid looking bad in front of his subordinates? Is he a total idiot?"

"He was talking about being short for winter." Valta stood up. "Is that true?"

The other shook her head. "It can't be. We've dedicated sixteen hectares of land to edible crops, and they all grow at... Something ridiculous like fifty times their usual growth rate. I know we don't have rice or wheat, but our crops grow even during winter, so why is he so worried...?"

"Did it snow back where you lived?" Valta raised a question. "Back at your plane?"

Suu denied with her head. "No... But winter was the time when the landlords would up the price of the shit we grew. To sell it to the famine-struck regions of the kingdom, of course. Thing is, they didn't only inflate the prices but also our rates. We had to give in 9/10ths of everything, maybe more if the tax collectors saw that we were eating more than once a day. Our granaries were never full during winter..."

"I see..."

Valta laid against the wall. She seemed to understand more of Thom's life as her sight was set on him, on his rough features and aspect. He would probably sleep for a while. She would be awake as he slept. Strangely, she felt closer to him than before.