But for a Slime

Chapter One Hundred Twenty

Ilyelanralo stared at the eccentric under his tree. The man had grown even more erratic since, although Ilyelanralo could only feel a small amount concern for it. Relief was his primary emotion, grateful to see the man up and moving around. As long as a man was responsive, all he needed was a little time to bend and mold a being to their proper place. Ilyelanralo sighed a bit, allowing his frustration to shine through. The eccentric was proving to be incredibly difficult but that only stoked Ilyelanralo's determination. Challenges, after all, were necessary for growth and he was certain that this eccentric would prove challenge enough for the task of his growth.

A soft cough behind him drew his attention to his personal slave and he stifled his sigh before turning from his large balcony window, the view of the entire camp before him. He turned, instead, to see his slave who was trained to best serve and help his master. The slave stood, well attired with muted greys and browns so as to more easily fade into the background of Ilyelanralo's manor. Some preferred garish colors and clothing to exacerbate their display of wealth. Ilyelanralo, however, followed the thought that the truly wealthy would be easily known without the garish and blunt displays that were only ever necessary for their lesser.

"I saw the incoming merchant."

"Of course, sir. You are observant, as always."

Ilyelanralo ignored the sycophancy as he turned back to look out over the camp. The eccentric, as always, still curled under his tree. Ilyelanralo watched for a time before sighing deeply and looking over at the merchant. Several of the new trainees were expected, sent by private masters needing professional training or by the slavers guild to prepare and train the next line of slaves. He rarely got the latter, his reputation enough that only the most stubborn and recalcitrant ever arrived at his camp. It made for a more intimate and personal training which he felt was much better in preparing the perfect being for their duties.

This merchant, however, had also arrived with some personal slaves for sale. Few did so, but this merchant had the savvy ability to smell out opportunities and while Ilyelanralo was quite proud of the success rate and superior quality of his goods, he always had need of funds, especially when a certain stubborn eccentric put more backbone into his fellow trainees than ever should have been there.

Ilyelanralo sighed again, clenching teeth as he grit them before releasing his anger in a long deep exhale. He will be exquisite! Calm yourself. Self-recrimination was a new experience for Ilyelanralo, one that he wasn't certain he enjoyed. Still, the hope that things would settle soon proved unfounded and he had need of a few more quick results. The solution had been obvious and the merchant had been shrewd enough to tease it out. They're going to be… very expensive.

Sighing once again, Ilyelanralo turned back to the butler, "Settle everything as normal. Leave the new trainees to me."

"Of course, sire," the butler bowed and slipped backwards out of the room before turning and marching on to the merchant with efficiency.

Ilyelanralo allowed himself another few moments to dither before he followed outside as well, quickly catching the attention of the merchant. The merchant had been speaking gruffly with his butler but quickly passed the butler on to his own accountant slave before turning to Ilyelanralo with an ingratiating smile.

"Welcome, good Ilyelanralo. It is a wonder and a joy to see you."

"Or my money, is it not?"

"So crass, but is not your power yours?"

Ilyelanralo huffed at that, a small chuckle escaping despite his efforts and he shook his head, "A way with words, merchant."

"As do you, great Ilyelanralo."

"Enough. You brought what I needed."

"Oh, yes! Cheap and quite ready for training," the merchant offered, turning behind him to point to two groups of people.

In one group, three burly men lay bound in strong well-made chains and a delicate but meaningless dead metal rings around each neck. The leg irons around the legs were short enough to limit each man's stride while also tying each man's leg loosely to the person in front and behind. The second group was split in two as well, with a loose group of terrified young people split male and female. Four young girls hugged each other while to the side another small cluster of two young men stood defiant but still deeply uncertain.

"You have no collars," Ilyelanralo frowned.

"And you have so many," the merchant countered with a grin.

"The price must be lowered in consideration of the collar."

"The collar is paid by the owner."

"And you are not the owner of these? Would you like me to sell you the collars necessary?" Ilyelanralo replied with a vicious grin.

The merchant's confident smile flickered then quickly fell into a soft growl, "A discount. Agreed."

Ilyelanralo continued, looking over at the group of three chained burly men and gesturing at them with a wave, "And these poor chains. Their wounds and chafing, they will require healing."

The merchant's smile returned at that, "Acceptable."

"And the chains point to many unsanctioned attempts to escape. These are not… easy men."

"But easily dealt with by collar and excellent training such as yours, Ilyelanralo."

Ilyelanralo sighed and turned to look at the merchant, only to see the smile even greater, "You know me too well."

The merchant laughed, "It is a merchant's path!"

Ilyelanralo huffed a soft laugh back before waving the merchant towards his home, "Come. Let us finalize the price over wine in the cool of my home. My guards will see to the transfer of the incoming and outgoing."

Ilyelanralo glanced over and saw one of his new guards, snapping to the man, "You. Get the collars and get them on these new slaves and prepare those to leave."

* * *

The new guard stuttered slightly to see the slave master Ilyelanralo speak to him, but then quickly marched forward. He gathered the slaves easily enough before marching them towards the slaving station. He was smart enough to keep his complaints to himself, but tension coiled as worry grew. The collars… oh! Memory returned and he quickly turned to march into the slave master's house. Normally, none could enter unless given explicit consent. He had been given such, the slave collars inside required him to enter and return with them, so he did exactly that. However, his relief at getting the box vanished before a deep worry as he stared into the box full of dull intricately carved metallic balls, clenching his teeth as he walked back to the slaving station. How am I supposed to do this? Never seen or used a collar before… but when I got mine. His thoughts continued to roil and he tried to rush, but it was not quick enough, many of the veterans laughing as they watched his poor efforts.

Of course, none of the veterans were willing to help out at all, laughing as they watched. The guard clenched his teeth and turned to the compliant first. He had them line up and turned to the box that sat at the side. In the box, hundreds, maybe even thousands, of balls tumbled inside. He reached in but paused and found himself suddenly uncertain. Not… collars… I thought … He struggled, wrestling with the strange shape. He dug back into his memory trying to remember what had happened when he was collared, but his mind went blank, and embarrassment had him struggling and lost in uncertainty. In order to appear as if he was still doing something, the man reached in and pulled out a ball, holding it up in front of him.

His mind froze, staring at the small ball in his hand. It's supposed to be a collar, right? The ball suddenly shifted form, the ball flattening and shifting outward into a donut shape until it became a ring large enough to fit his neck. He blinked then flushed with embarrassment as all the other guards who'd been watching with intense diligence began laughing mockingly.

"And how're you going to get that on their necks, boy!?"

The man glanced over at the speaker even as his face flushed red in embarrassment. He found himself growing even more flustered as the onlooker's laughter exploded at seeing his growing awkwardness. One of the guards came forward out of pity and grasp the slave ball now collar. As soon as the new helpful guard took the collar, it shifted back into a ball and remained in that shape. The other guards who had been watching jeered in anger, unhappy they could not watch his struggles anymore. Oh… Klannard… thank you so much! Gratefulness welled even as the older aloof and withdrawn guard came forward.

"What it is doesn't matter," the helpful guard, Klannard, said as he then turned to look at the first new slave waiting in line.

Klannard then looked at the new slave, "Do you accept the collaring?"

The small man nodded nervously and Klannard pushed the collar ball towards the neck of the small slave man and the collar slithered onto the neck and around it.

"You are claimed by my master," the helpful guard stated, the collar shifting to its new claimed status.

Klannard then pulled another ball out of the box and the ball shifted form to a collar, much like the original ball had, but then opened on something like a hinge.

"And, if you want, you can do it this way. Some people find it easier to do that. It's about what you think… or feel should be. The collar works better if you just… feel like it should work that way.

The helpful guard then turned away and looked at the next new slave; a large woman, "Do you accept the collaring?"

She nodded firmly, although the nervous twitch along her fingers revealed her anxiety, "Yes."

Klannard then leaned forward and manually shut the collar, the hinge and lock melding into a singular piece once it was fully enveloped around the neck.

"You are claimed by my master," the helpful guard stated again.

Klannard then turned back to the new guard, "Understand?"

The nervous new guard nodded, relief flowing through him as he nodded, "Yes. Thank you!"

The helpful guard nodded with a smile, "No problem. But, make sure to use two balls on the recalcitrant. Probably needs to be a bit stronger and the slave master always told us to put two balls on any in chains. We have plenty."

The nervous new guard nodded again, and asked with tenuous uncertainty, "Uh… how do you do that?"

"Do the first ball like you just did, then add the second and state the claim statement again."

The nervous new guard nodded at that, a little more certain and turned back to the other new slaves. Things went well enough until he got to the chained ones since one proved recalcitrant. A simple beating until they accepted got that issue solved, and soon all the new slaves were properly collared, the chained ones getting a second and the violent one getting three balls. The new guard felt some relief at accomplishing the task with a small sense of accomplishment. The other guards wandered away after, the entertainment now finished. He could only sigh in relief at that, and more so as preparing the trained slaves to leave proved just as simple.

* * *

About a month had passed since he'd naturalized, and Joe settled in the yard, focusing on his mana practice while occupying his hands with his whittling and occasionally poking a limb with a hidden dagger. Every moment of the day was spent pushing skills, mana, mana points, and the development of his personal HP and keeping his system HP and MP emptied so he could do so. As for his whittling, he'd gotten quite a few of the pawns done already and even tossed away his first couple, unhappy with their quality now that he had practiced a couple times now. Still, the whittling was just an excuse to make him look like he was doing something and hopefully keep people from bothering him or questioning what he was doing.

Night was spent exploring the various buildings around except the slave master's home and the tents of the guards, caution keeping him away. All the other buildings were empty in the night. And all proved essentially useless. His excitement at finding a tool shed almost led him to falling into despair as every tool he had available to him did nothing to his collar. Every attempt awakened the collar and riled it up, even trying his hack of "scratching an itch" did nothing as any amount of force that exceeded what itching would normally allow somehow alerted the collar and turned any attempt at damaging the collar to failure as the collar seized him up, coiling in made tendrils, no matter how he tried to cloud the intentions in his mind.

That night was a dark night, despair flaring and growing even more so with the arrival of his own personal torture squad. It took him a good week to return to equilibrium and settled the finality of his situation even more firmly in his thoughts. He no longer really payed much attention to people anymore, already having observed most of the people in the camp, so now found himself often simply staring off into the distance. Today was no different, and he found himself growing bored with the routine of the camp and working hard to ignore the horrified gibbering in the back of his mind.

About mid-afternoon, a commotion shook the camp and a crowd of new people came into the camp lead by a rather obvious slimy salesman type, from first impressions. Joe immediately focused on what was happening, the crowd of newly arrived people easily drawing his attention. The three individuals in the rather elegant high quality looking chains had him grimacing in bitter rage and impotence. After a greeting, one of the guards ran in to bring out the slave master.

When the slave master arrived, the salesman and slave master began speaking with one another comfortably, obviously acquaintances of some kind. Their conversation was rather quick and then the two headed off to the slave master's home. As the slave master left, he waved to a guard and then headed out. Joe ignored the guard and kept his focus on the slave master and the new salesman until they disappeared into the house.

With the loss of his focus, his eyes lazily shifted back to the newcomers, feeling a bit of pity for them but still watching more out of boredom than curiosity. That quickly changed when he saw the guard beginning to collar the slaves. It was interesting to see the collar shift in form but it was something Joe had already noticed. The guards collaring the new slaves spoke with the new slave then pressed a small ball to the neck which then morphed to a collar that enveloped the neck of the person, taking on a collar shape. The guard then said something immediately after before moving on to collar the next person in line.

While it was interesting to see the obvious magical process, Joe's curiosity really didn't pique until the collared slaves were chained and cocked his head with a little interest when the slaves were saddled with another collar ball as the guard would press another ball to the just formed collar and it would meld into the collar without any appreciable change in volume of the collar. The guard said something after each new collar ball was added, sounding similar, or identical. Joe watched.

With the last slave now collared, the guards then took chains of the three men who'd been chained then basically let them to go and be as they wished. Joe felt a certain amount of pity and quite a bit more ever growing rage over why the men had been physically chained but Joe maintained his position. He turned his gaze away, feigning boredom but his mind whirred with possibilities. He wasn't certain quite what to think so simply locked away what he'd seen and considered how he could learn more. Nothing about it really seemed important or crucial to his freedom, but knowing more about how the collars worked or got on might help in getting them off. Although… since it is some kind of magical thing… Joe sighed and turned his thoughts to other things.

Besides the arrival of the small batch of newbies, nothing else changed that day or the next several days, but at the end of the week, another large arrival occurred, bringing in dozens and dozens of more slaves. About a quarter of those who'd been at the camp were sent back out with the guards who'd brought the last batch. Tents were emptied and filled again with another set and Joe was able to watch the whole arrival process from the other side.

He hadn't noticed on his arrival, but there were two musters called, one with everyone staying at the camp and one for the broken and trained who would leave. The second was a quite subdued affair with the men and women lining up with practiced numb obedience, robotically stepping forward as they were verified against some kind of mental list before being dumped into the back of the carriage or told to march alongside the wagon.

The other muster was what he remembered, but this time he was one of the veterans. As previously, the veterans laughed, mocking the newly arrived. Joe did not, standing aloof and watching on with bitter rage. One other joined him in his aloof recalcitrance, then a couple others. After a few more minutes, those who were laughing quickly quieted at seeing Joe staring with hard eyes at the new comers and the guards surrounding them. Only the first two or three were willing to stand in obvious defiance, but the others at least fell silent, their mocking laughter ending. The slaver master quickly noticed.

* * *

Ilyelanralo was no fool. He quickly noticed what the eccentric was doing and easily found the three others that had bound their fate to the eccentrics. Sadly, two of the three were critical goods, but the one. Ilyelanralo paused, considering cautiously the opportunity presented but pushed it aside for now. Destroying goods was a fool's game, but sometimes it was necessary to train a superior one. Ilyelanralo hid his bitter impotence, focusing instead on the new recruits to be trained. The eccentric was a fool if he believed this game would doing anything meaningful. It would only take a subtle change that the newcomers could never even notice and even those who'd been here before wouldn't even notice. The effects would be markedly the same. All the eccentric had done was spread the pain and punishment over the entire group, instead of just over the newcomers or several of the older ones.

I will break him… and I will break him despite his efforts to insulate himself. If he sees that he cannot resist, even with his ability to hide and deafen his ears, he will break more completely than any of these others. Ilyelanralo, mastering his face, kept his glee controlled, knowing that when the eccentric broke, it would be more completely than any other had in his long life as a trainer.

Ilyelanralo was no fool, however, and still bent his thoughts towards studying how the eccentric had deafened his ears. It would only be wise to know every defense and capability a being might bring against his skill and work. He was an excellent trainer, always had been and always would be, and he would not give up on his reputation now. It was a novel approach, but ultimately it would fail against his efforts. He was the best trainer and he would continue to be so, and the eccentric would be his master piece; his piece de resistance; the ultimate culmination of his capability as a trainer and slave master. The eccentric would fall.

* * *

Joe got a couple interesting surprises over the next few days, gaining two titles he had been gunning. Those two moments had proven to be small bright moments and he reveled in them, gaining Endless HP and Endless MP. Both allowed him control over HP and MP, turning them off similar to SP. Nice! Turning off MP was an easy choice, instantly making his spellwork almost impossibly difficult but also so much more satisfying. By the end of the day he'd received endless MP, he was cramping, somehow, in someway, that Joe couldn't even begin to explain. He only knew that he'd pushed his mana capabilities pretty hard and needed a few days to recover. But slowly, over the next week, Joe was able to finally just feel when he was close to pushing himself too hard when it came to spellwork. Satisfyingly, he also saw a very quick and immediate increase in his skills as well, although that dropped of pretty quick.

For HP, he felt a bit of concern, recognizing pretty quick that he was turning a life line off. He could easily envision a situation where he took a real bad hit but was incapable of turning his HP on to heal himself. He also took some time to play with and figure out the consequences of using it, or not doing so. What he learned was that there were pretty harsh consequences for delaying his HP from healing him. It scaled not quite exponentially but it wasn't really multiplicative either. Joe didn't waste time on figuring out the exact numbers, he just didn't have a good enough time keeping device nor the desire to run the math long hand.

But he did learn that there seemed to be about a five minute limit although that limit appeared to be his HP and not the ultimate limit of how long he could go. The longer he took to engage his HP, the more HP it took to heal his wound. He did wonder if that could be affected by the wound healing over, especially in the case of a lost limb, but he wasn't really willing to explore at the moment. What he did learn, however, was that once the cost of the HP exceeded the wound, no HP would be spent to heal the wound, even partially, unlike if he had HP engaged and the wound was too great. In the later case, the wound would heal as much as possible before simply petering out and scaring or covering the wound with tissue.

Time was also different depending on how large the wound was. A small scratch could be healed even after something close to an hour, sucking all his HP in a single massive gulp but healing the small scratch completely. A large wound, like a lost thumb or more, could only be postponed for moments, maybe a minute if it was a knuckle or two from a finger. It was a significant variation, and while that was interesting, the greater concern was if he was hurt in a way that cost him his awareness. Any head wound or harm that made him black out could kill him as he bled out and died, his HP unused and wasted.

That had Joe very cautious in how and when he turned his HP on and off, opting to keep it on at all times unless he was actually working to develop his personal HP; the opposite of how he had his SP and MP functioning.

That led to a rather terrifying moment when he initiated his testing of learning mana and spellwork control with and without the holographic display. He tested how much holographic displays helped, using them at night while not using them during the day. He attempted learning two similar difficulty spells, one during the day without holographic assistance and one at night with it. He learned quite a bit, finding out that holographic assistance really helped him in the initial learning stages, but once he had a decent grasp of the spell, holographic assistance became almost redundant. That quickly led to Joe working sparingly with holographic assistance mainly because the only time he was able to use holographic assistance was at night and that really cut into his physical training time.

The other thing he learned was the terrifying consequences of failing his mana infusion without HP on. He'd foolishly not kept track of his HP status, leaving it off during one of his mana infusion practices with holographic assistance late at night. Towards the end of one of his practice sessions, when sleepy exhaustion had returned and pressed heavily upon him, he slipped up and screwed up the mana infusion. Mana swelled out in a torrent of mutated tumors and swellings, obliterating the normal simplistic spherical work. He'd accidentally envisioned a full body complete mana infusion enhancement, and immediately began hemorrhaging blood all over his body, including from his eyes, nose, and ears. Limbs twisted, his left leg actually spasming so badly that his snapped his thigh bone and had his leg vibrating so badly that he almost tore his left leg off. The right one punched a deep hole in the ground, but luckily was reinforced and did not harm him. His right arm was likewise OK while his left thumb and forefinger, still the target of his pure strength infusion efforts, vanished in a mist of red gore as the strength poured into his finger and thumb was not sufficiently protected against.

The pain immediately snapped him out of his sleepy fugue and he blinked in shock as the pain welled through him. That shocked turned to wonder as the pain stretched on before realization finally hit and he flipped his HP back on. It had only been maybe a second, the horror of the situation seeming to pause time, but that slight delay was enough to make returning him to complete health impossible. It likely would have been even if his HP had been turned on, but the added delay had him lose a lot of his HP to waste. As HP swelled down to heal his leg and towards his left hand, quick thinking immediately attempted to redirect the HP. Waste to do it on my leg! He would be cutting it off anyway. He had to. Heal the rest of me… not that… Somehow, in some way Joe wasn't sure he understood, Joe knew he'd made a difference, and most of the HP flowed to his head and torso, with the rest flowing into his left hand to heal the thumb and first finger.

His leg had an interesting result, healing back to where it was normal amputated, but his head, and for some reason Joe wasn't completely sure why he knew, his torso was completely healed while his left hand healed a bit before he felt his HP peter out. The sheer terror of the moment had woken him completely and he was now staring wide eyed around his tent while panting with deep breaths. That… wow… OK! Yeah... Glad I made that decision… now don't be dumb and forget it!

Joe made certain his HP was on, despite know it was as he'd just experienced its work, then turned to examining himself and cataloging what had taken place. It was quick, his exhaustion not allowing him time, and he finally decided it was time for bed. Several quick chops, quite a bit harder now that he no longer had easy access to mana infused strength, got one of his off while another did the same once his HP had refilled enough to just cover over his limbs with fresh scars. He then turned to bathing his entire being in healing until it seemed his was back to health, and then he collapsed into bed for the night, an obsessive last double check to see if his HP was on jolting him awake from almost sleep before he was finally able to accept rest.

* * *

With the arrivals, Joe quickly recognized the beginning of another cycle of breaking men's and women's spirits. That night, Joe found himself struggling very hard to maintain his strength to resist. He knew what was coming and going through it all again was another special kind of torture. And for those who caught the pattern and were aware, their quiet soft sobs filtered through all the tents in the courtyard and only exacerbated and accentuated his despair. Each new sob and cry of despair hammered the psyche of others and it was a deep struggle to resist. Joe withheld his despair, making no sound. He was able to resist, but he wasn't able to get anything done. He sat in his tent unmoving and distant. He quickly shifted to closing his eyes and trying to shut out his senses before finally standing to his stumps in a fit of uncomfortable nervous energy and going through his forms with the slow exactness Tai Chi offered. It was silent. It was relatively hidden. And it gave him the distraction he needed to focus on something else other than the soft despair that covered the entire camp.

When he did finally fall asleep, he did not rise naturally once again in the night. The torture began once again as Joe woke with a screech of pain, the dagger man shaving off a thin shaving off his thighs. It went on for what felt like hours, then they left. His late sleep and torture session exhausted him and he simply fell back to sleep.

But the torture became nightly from that day, and Joe went to bed early, endured the torture that was forced upon him around midnight, then healed himself as he was already normally doing to continue his physical training. One excellent side benefit was the pain was quickly mitigated because of his healing. But, a numbing rage only continued to grow, twisting through Joe's guts like a poison.

As for the days, just as before, after a week or two for the newcomers to grow accustomed to their new situation, a small pet arrived and was given to each of the trainees. Joe remembered the ease with which he'd butchered and eaten it. This time, he stared at it with diligent thought before finally tying the animal with the leash offered then headed to bed to sleep.

He woke in the night as he always did, ignoring the small pet to practice his katas. The practice went well but he found his mind wandering as it was not over occupied with the slow practice. In the middle of his practice, he glanced over and kept an eye on his stats, poking himself every once and a while with a dagger both to empty his system HP and to engage his personal HP. On one of his glances, verifying his current system HP, he noticed his full system SP, but was unconcerned with it as he'd already turned it off and worked daily with his personal SP. What really bothered him was his mana. Wish I could use that. Practice it while I'm doi… Joe's thoughts froze then he mentally kicked himself. Of course I should practice my mana while I'm moving… would be really dumb to have to stop in the middle of a fight to try and cast! Joe immediately began attempting to incorporate his mana work and even casting of spells while he flowed through kata after kata, dagger pricks hitting every once and awhile.

He didn't do very well at all, not even completing a single spell while using a kata, but his mana points and mana flow proved easier, able to be used and done while moving. Despite that, he made sure to empty his system MP and use his personal MP as much as possible. As for his mana points, they, as always, seemed to be easy, reacting to him almost as if they were a part of him, flowing and moving with ease while his personal mana from the mana heart was tougher, requiring concentration even as he tried to focus on moving his body. With that realization, Joe berated himself for not including combat and mana movements simultaneously. To even do a spell on top of that, expressing the mana from a point or his heart then manipulating it into form to cast a spell. Joe sighed at the thought, pausing a bit before returning to his practice.

The last bit of practice he did every night now was to attempt to mana infuse his stats, working through the effort of one stat at a time for his left index finger and thumb. Over the period of the month, he was able to decently enough, decreasing the time needed to form his mental intent and thought from tens of minutes to only around five minutes. Any development from there, though, ground to a halt, now only shaving off seconds or milliseconds. Too long! Joe found the wall frustrating, but knew practice would allow him to continue developing. And I got the back up… burn mana to do it! If needed… Calm returned to him and he went back to infusing his mana.

Another aspect of his mana infusing practice was to turn his focus from his mental efforts to create the perfect combination of intent and mental image of what he wanted towards how the mana was forming in his core. He was certain that he wasn't guiding or doing this. It was too natural and easy, and easy wasn't something he found comfortable, so focused immensely on the mana constructions and formation of the initial sphere or conical portion of a sphere as well as the streamers that would erupt out from that.

The streams seemed easier to understand, following paths of what felt like least resistance but the conical sphere construction seemed so important, so he began spending a lot of time focusing on that as well, even adding it to his nightly efforts and during the day, although he didn't allow the effect to manifest, not wanting to show off unusual strength or power. Just form the sphere and then let it all go… study it… ooh! A thought came and Joe changed his plans, setting the night to be the time to actually develop his mana infusion techniques to full completion while using the day time to focus on studying the various mana constructs since he couldn't show results in front of anyone anyway.

After several hours, Joe collapsed, washing himself then dropping into bed to sleep. The next morning, he woke facing the small cute pet and frowned in thought, considering his options before suddenly smiling. Oh! Wait… I got a couple weeks left! Ha!

He rose and dressed for the day then picked up his pet, pulling it up to study its teeth before grinning. Herbivore! Joe took his animal out to the field and found a stake which he shoved into the ground before tying the leash to the stake. He watched it for a while then nodded with satisfaction when he saw it beginning to munch on the grass. He then left the animal there and wandered back over to his tree, once again whittling, practicing his mana and casting with empty MP while surreptitiously poking himself with a dagger. He wasn't exactly certain, but it seemed that he was able to poke himself just a bit deeper than before. Either that… or I'm just better at gauging the exact depth I can go to.

By the end of the day, several of the other men who'd been watching Joe all began to copy his work, staking their pets in the field next to his. Over the next week, several of the others from the new group, including two of the men who'd been chained, also followed suit, and the field was littered with stakes and grazing pets. Many more among the new comers had joined in Joe's resistance if with less blunt obviousness.

No others really joined in over the second week, most watching Joe and the men and women carefully and a small few oblivious but to their own pain relishing in the companionship offered them by the pet. Joe sighed to see it but said nothing, continuing to exercise at night, integrating mana work and footwork, and practicing his mana during the day while watching the camp carefully under the tree he'd chosen.

At the end of the week, Joe went out into the field and made sure to be noticed as he took the animal he'd fattened for the past two weeks and butchered it. Might as well give a hint. Rage burned, seeking at least the tiniest amount of rebellion he could. The one man who'd been watching him carefully also followed almost immediately after him and did so as well. Soon, a few others, then a flood, followed after and many were soon crowded around a fire pit Joe had started, the delicious smell of a well cooked meal wafting across the camp.

The guards watched on with nervous glances between the men and the villa of the slave master. Joe noticed and glanced towards the villa as well, but making sure to glance at the villa using his peripheral vision and obvious hints to insanity. The others around were less subtle, with the man who'd also been strongest in following Joe's example simply stared defiantly up at the slave master who had come out to watch from his balcony.

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Joe hid his grimace at seeing the man's behavior, but Joe knew he couldn't really do anything since he was supposed to be rather insane and out of it. Joe wasn't certain if an insane person was capable of noticing the other man's behavior or how others here perceived insane people. So ignored it and turned internal, forcing himself to be oblivious to what was going on around him and munching his food with rather genuine enjoyment while also deliberately remaining ignorant.

There really was no point in eating his pet, but he remembered what the others had gone through despite how flaky his memory was because of his insanity. A sense of satisfied revenge burned through him as he saw most of the others, especially most of the newcomers, had joined in and Joe could only find a sense of satisfaction for the results.

Joe was less satisfied the next day when the slave master called for a mustering while remaining too calm, a soft Mona Lisa smile gracing his lips. Joe grit hidden teeth behind his lips. By the time the mustering yard was full of slaves, Joe was growing concerned but there was little he could do and all he had was to prepare.

And it was as bad as he'd thought it was. The mustering lasted until after lunch and the only mercy Joe had was he couldn't understand anything that the slave master said. The slave master also pulled out the device the first slave master had used to capture him back in Coushar and Joe was not free from the cycle of pleasure and pain for the hours until well after lunch.

Joe was the only one rather lucky after the event since Joe was reasonably ignored while everyone else was driven into the mining dungeon where they worked. Still, the slave master had sent one of the guards with him and the man just basically followed him around the entire rest of the day and randomly spammed the pain button. Joe would fall to the ground in pain, tensed and curled up. For the first few times, Joe's rage spiked, hatred burning brilliantly and with each ending of the pain, he would turn to stare at the guard with unabashed raging hatred before stuffing it all away and standing once more. By the time the guard had done it what felt like dozens of times, Joe was too tired to act out his rage and would simply stand, ignoring the guard to return to his work. The exhaustion of feeling anything about what the guard had done to him essentially pushed him away from caring anymore. The pain didn't do anything to him but feel pain, and besides, the pain really didn't seem to do much to him. The nightly shaving of his thigh stumps somehow felt worse to him. Despite that, the rage he did feel flattened and compressed, layer upon another layer, hard and arctic cold.

* * *

He'd been given command of the eccentric's command artifact and it was the first time he'd ever seen one. The slaver's guild rarely, if ever, created a command artifact. The cost was prohibitive and usually useless as it was just as easy to give verbal commands. But whatever the eccentric had done to deafen the collar spirit's ears was certainly an unusual way to defend. Still, to hold a command artifact was an interesting experience.

Things went well, at the beginning. The artifact dropping the eccentric and putting the slave in his place, but by the late afternoon, the eccentric seemed to care less and less for the pain applied. By dinner, the eccentric's calm reaction and immediate recovery was terrifying him. He fled as soon as his own collar allowed him to, his own command completed to the slave master's demands.

* * *

Gwenvair struggled, finding herself now needing to spend almost every morning soothing her king. His rage was numbing and overwhelming, but she would comfort him as best she could.

* * *

The consequences of the pet fiasco lasted for another couple days and many collapsed under the punishment. Most of the slaves began taking it out on Joe, especially the ones who'd duplicated his feat, rage leading to subtle mockery and unpleasant physical encounters. For Joe, it was rather normal. He couldn't understand the words of mockery despite recognizing their hatred for him on their face and the bumps, shoves, and dominance displays proved rather useless as most people, shorter and smaller than him, bounced off his greater mass. It didn't help that everyone of them also had essentially a percent of his stats and even if he couldn't mana infuse his full stats, just his Earth stats alone were double or even triple the others. After the biggest guy who was angry at him bounced off an attempted shove, falling back and landing on his rear, everyone left him alone. Ironically, the couple of people who'd stayed strong began gathering around him as if he were some kind of symbol, but his insanity kept him distant.

Those who tied themselves to him were nonplussed, uncertain of what to do and how to continue but then decided to simply be near him or around him. They did not bug him nor did they expect anything from him. They simply acted as a hedge against others, especially those who had it in for him. Even with that, Joe never relented in his insanity, ignoring everything all around him. The petty actions of the other slaves to put social pressure on him or even physically abuse him were laughably meaningless. He was already enduring torture every night.

Ultimately, however, only a few of the slaves remained strong, although there were now a couple more than before; two of the physically chained ones joined. Things settled down for a time after that, but when the kids showed up the following month, Joe found everything in him grinding to a halt. He woke to find a young boy staring at him, curled up near the entrance of the tent. Joe stared, mounting horror growing as flashbacks grew vivid with memory of blood burning his forearm, the young boy dying at his chest.

Joe breathed with horror, turning to panting even as he turned away to stare at the tent. No… no… no no no no no no no no… The word repeated without thought or meaning for minutes, then longer and Joe could find no peace, each new shuffle of the boy behind him reminding him of what was to come. The mustering call came, but Joe ignored it. The boy, however, was unable to and left the tent and him in peace.

Joe was pretty much useless for the next several days. The only thing getting a reaction out of him were the nightly torture sessions with the boy watching on with piteous wonder, and even then, the torture only pulled grunting cries of pain out of him before he dove back into oblivion as quickly as he could. The pain, ironically, proved the distraction he desired, driving his mind away from what was soon to come.

But Joe was not able to remain in denial long, each day counting down till the boy's death weighing heavy on him driving him to find some way to save the boy. The passing of each day pressed him further and further in desperation and finally, no matter how much it pained him, he allowed the boy along. He began leaving the tent again, taking the boy along with him and taking part in the camps daily expectations. He knew connecting with the boy was dangerous and foolish, but he couldn't ultimately abandon him and so dove back into camp life as well as brought him along in hopes that he could think of something.

His first thoughts were to sink into the dungeons, and he did so a few times, leaving the boy to stand on the stairs where he was safe while he slaughtered the rats there. Little of use was found, although he did unlock another two jobs. With the release of his curse, raising his priest jobs were no longer of importance, so he shifted his focus, turning to other jobs. While he was insane, he'd raised none, his insanity uncaring of any other job but to drive towards insanity and its completion. Now, he'd barely completed three in the past several months and he chafed at the thought, frustrated by his lack of easy progress but also understanding he could not take to the dungeon too frequently. The guards still watched him very closely every time he went.

His trip to the leveling dungeon proving useless, Joe floundered then sought to escape into the surrounding forests. His purpose each day now was scouring the woods for any solution for the boy's escape. As each day passed in the forest, the slow inkling of a real bad idea began to form, and he found a frenzy of energy driving him on. Just… get him far away? He can run, maybe? But realism of what might happened hit and slowly changed to just finding a place the boy could hide and be safe.

But, each day offered nothing and each evening forced their return to the tent for the night. On the last week, Joe grew frantic, knowing what was coming soon so took a risk he'd never have taken otherwise. Only a couple days… maybe one! This… Joe's desperation drove him and he pulled out a quarter of the cloaks he was using as blankets and slipped them into his inventory when the boy wasn't looking before he beckoned the boy back out into the woods. There might be a few days left, but Joe felt an impending sense of immediacy driving him.

The wandered into the woods as they always did, but this time Joe spent quite a bit more time searching for anyone trailing after. Fear of the magical also had him searching shadows and even the ground. Invisible people… that tide monster was… That thought spiked his fear up dozens of notches and he was soon looking up as well, imagination running wild. Tree hopping? Flying? That one dungeon monster swam in the shadows… this… His fear went into overdrive as he thought of dozens of insane possibilities for stealth and grew terrified. Fear worming its way through him while he struggled with courage to save the boy.

In the end, terror won out and he spent the day pretending to scour the forest for resources before he returned that night once again and collapsed into bed. He'd long given in and offered the boy a set of the cloaks to soften the floor for his bed placed near the brazier so the boy took to his own bed. That night, Joe had a never ending series of nightmares that left him horrified as the kid died in his arms over and over before the nightmares took on hideous proportions and the kid simultaneously died as he hunted him and was in turn hunted by the ghost of the child itself, terror driving him forward and horror paralyzing him whenever he encountered the child and watched with paralysis as his body acted on its own to kill the child in ever more murderous and horrific ways.

When the healer and dagger wielder slipped into his tent and woke him by shaving off a razor thin flake from his thigh stumps, it was almost with relief that he woke with a shriek of pain. The pain came again, and he couldn't hide the pain, again. But then, it almost became a comfort as it distracted his thoughts from the dreams he'd had. Halfway through the torture, he found his head turned towards where the young boy lay sleeping and found the kid staring back at him with horror filled eyes. Another shave came, and Joe screeched but then smiled softly at the boy and nodded before turning to look away, then his mind retreated. And his anger rained down upon a frigid landscape and froze another razor thin layer of hatred crushed and compressed in layer upon layer of cold hoarfrost encrusted rage, miles and miles deep. Each layer wrapped around a hard core of anger and within that core of anger, sputtered who he was.

Despite the rage, his decision firmed and he felt a peace sweep down through him he couldn't understand. There was not much he could do, but this, he would as best he could. Fleeing form the torture, he found a place he could endure, and he waited. The pain swept through, and his voice would screech out in torturous pain, but he endured. Then, he sought strength and his screams faded to grunts and huffs. The torture paused with that, then returned but not with any vigor or renewed purpose. There was no drive to it. It simply was, and the dagger wielder simply bent to his task, surgical and metronomic.

It ended shortly after that, not early, not late, but exactly as it was planned and Joe was able to fall into exhausted sleep. He didn't sleep in, however, and rose early in the morning. He was not going to wait. The boy still slept, exhausted from his screams of the night before, and Joe searched his belongings for anything meaningful. There really wasn't anything, however, and Joe's thoughts turned to things he could do. He grabbed all of his whittled chess pieces, uncertain of what he wanted to do with them but wanting them nonetheless, a clearer plan seeping through. He also grabbed three of the boards he'd picked up that he thought might whittle decently into a chessboard. All of it flashed into his inventory when the kid wasn't looking and then he settled in to feverishly whittle away at making a couple more pawns. If his memory was correct, he was behind by a good five black and three white, if he counted one of his failed white pawns he was considering tossing.

He got another black pawn completed by the time muster was called and he went out to stand in line like a good slave. The muster passed without incident and Joe felt relief come to him, his counting of time proving correct and he received another day of grace. He couldn't take it for granted, however, and despite how certain he was that he had until the end of the week, he was not going to take any chances.

Diving into the forest immediately after the muster proved routine enough the slave guards and other enslaved leaders of the camp ignored him. The boy followed him like he always did, and they disappeared into the depths of the forest. He went deep today, not stopping to play up his insanity, marching with purpose deep into the woods until he heard the sound of rushing water. The sound of water broke him from his thoughts and he blinked with surprise, then grinned with relief. Water! That…

Turning back to the boy, he grinned and then nodded. He turned from him and lead him towards the rushing river until they found place where water tumbled from a plateau into the depths below. Joe found himself looking down over an incredible vista, water plummeting down into the land below. He looked around with some shock, surprised by what he was seeing. It didn't have any natural appearance of mountain and valley at all. In fact, the entire march he had while moving through the forest featured a remarkably flat landscape, so Joe found himself at a loss when looking down a several hundred foot drop cliff.

The river to his left proved more a smallish brook about a couple meters across. It was just too big to comfortably leap across, putting the jump into the uncomfortable area. A part of his brain argued he could make it, but the fear of failure and subsequent fall into the river just above a couple hundred foot fall nixed any desire to try to jump it. Granted, he knew intellectually that he had much greater leaping capability than what was natural, but his natural monkey brain quailed at the thought.

Joe sighed and used the break in foliage given by the cliff to both look down upon the land before him and to look up and down the cliff face he stood upon. The left beyond the small creek bent around out of sight and far from his sight. A look to his right revealed a peninsular outthrust of rock a couple hundred meters distant with the forest thin enough on it he could look through the tree line and see clear sky on the other side. Joe stared at it a bit before deciding to take advantage of what that view would offer and led their way to it.

Marching out into the peninsula was easy enough but coming to the point started to ping his slight fear of heights, a shuddering fear over the deep drop starting to worm its way up his legs. It wasn't enough to stop him, and nowhere near a true phobia of heights, but that little tingle when he got too close to the edge always seized up his lungs and left him feeling overly tense. Still, reaching the end had him being able to look back at the waterfall and have a clear view of the river falling below. Beyond, Joe was able to see the plateau mildly curve on further beyond about another half a mile. He scanned it for a time before marching to the other side to get a view of the rest and found a rather straight cliff stretching into the distance. He caught sight of about a mile or two before it bent beyond sight. Both directions were utterly devoid of animal life. Joe pursed his lips at that, thoughtful, before turning back to the river. Probably not going to find many other water sources than this if we're on a smaller plateau.

Joe arrived at the river then came to a pause. This is it… should I? Finding himself at a crossroads, paralysis hit for a bit and he grit his teeth in thought before turning to look at the river and consider his options once again. Caution and worry warred with right and terror struggled to dampen his courage even as everything within him screamed at the folly of his choice. He was in this mess because he couldn't keep his mouth shut nor could he keep his self-righteousness under a short leash. Can't be sure what it was, or if it even was one of those… Joe shuddered, breathing deep before continuing his thought. His internal monologue found little peace but at the end, he acknowledged a need for greater caution. But… this isn't the time. I'm not going to sacrifice a kid just cause it's safer for me.

Taking a firm deep breath, he turned to the kid and began. Help. Assign the language Common to polyglot's Language Expertise skill. Of course, he did not say the word 'Common' but actually had to speak out the world 'Galga' which was the language's given name. Joe, of course, noticed nothing as silence reigned. Only the sound of rushing water drowned out the silence that rested throughout the forest. Joe stared at the boy. The boy stared back up at him with curious eyes, but said nothing. A weight of significance buried him and Joe found it difficult to speak until he finally took another deep breath and begin.

"What's your name, kid?"

The boy blinked at Joe in shock, seemingly surprised by Joe's comprehensible speech, "You speak, master?"

Joe hid his grimace, keeping calm and nodded, "Yeah."

The boy fell silent for a bit before responding, "This one has no name, master."

Joe curled his lips slightly then quickly stilled his frustration, not wishing the kid to assume it was directed towards him, "Would you like one?"

The boy cocked his head then nodded, "If master is willing."

Joe kept his dislike to himself and nodded softly, "Is there a name you like?"

That gave the boy pause as he stared at Joe in confusion before he finally shook his head. Joe stared at the kid, wondering if there was something in that short pause or if it was just the kid being uncertain or worried about how Joe would take the response. Joe considered pushing but then stopped. Just… get this over!

"Then… I'll just call you Johnnie. Is that OK?"

"John… ny?"

"Eh… close enough. Does it sound good?"

"It is a strange name."

"Do you want another?"

The boy quickly shook his head then shyly smiled up at him, "No. It is a good name. A strange name… like yours, eccentric."

Joe cocked an eyebrow at that then kept the smirk to himself as he nodded, "OK. Then, can I know … can I ask you some questions?"

"Of course, master."

Joe took the response at face value and stopped being polite, "Then, tell me any orders you have."

"I am to obey you completely in all your commands or desires," the kid replied quickly without emotion or inflection.

Joe clenched his teeth at that but ignored the squeamish disgust that coiled through him and continued, "Tell me what comma…"

Crap… that… is probably a bad idea? If he still is controlled or commanded by the slave master and I give a contradictory command to him… is that…

Joe grit his teeth, grateful he'd caught himself, and began again, "If you can and are able to, please tell me the commands that the slave master gave to you."

"I am to obey him. His commands supersede yours," the boy repeated a bit robotically then came to an end.

Joe sighed, relief swelling through him even as he settled and began what he thought might work then paused, "If possible, are there any secret or other commands?"

"No."

The reply was immediate but the immediacy of the reply had Joe calm a little and he nodded. If anything, there was little he could do if there was secrecy involved. The best he could do was hope there was nothing secret. With the way things were, a smart owner would tell them to reply that there were no secret commands and not to do anything to reveal that there were. And the slave master here was very smart. Granted, the man could have made a mistake so Joe could only ask to see if there were any secret commands, but Joe had to err on the side of caution. Gotta assume something… so keep him remote and separate and don't let him anywhere near any others. So…

Joe's thoughts turned to how he would pull this off and turned to his work but then paused. Don't want to leave my hearing on. That would be… dangerous. So… do this fast.

"Alright. For your commands, listen carefully. Stay here. Do not leave this area. Do not take any commands from any other except the slave master himself. Do not take any commands even if others say they are speaking for the slave master. They are lying. Stay hidden. Do not let any other but me see you. Stay in the home I build for you now as much as you can and try to remain hidden. Try to keep any sign that you live here hidden. Make sure you relieve yourself in the river so it all goes down over the water fall and no one can smell it! Make sure its somewhere save so you cannot fall in or get hurt, but when you get water, always get water from upstream from where you poop and pee… at least ten strides or so! Uh…"

Joe's mind wandered as he sought out anything else but felt rather decently certain that he'd done well, then froze with thought as he realized he'd not given the kid any way out. What if I die… or an emergency sends me away… or another buys me before I can escape and takes me… the kid will die out her… uh…

"Make sure you do the previous commands carefully, but also do what you need to stay alive. Find food and water while staying hidden. If a long time passes and I do not come back then you can try, if you want, to go to another city or town, or village. If you get there, you can make your choice how to live well and excel in whatever way you dream or wish. Do not go back to the camp. Find the nearest city, town, or village and remain hidden until you get there. If others in the town or village you go to ask, simply tell them you are there for your master to prepare. Do you understand?"

The boy nodded quickly enough, "Yes, master."

Feeling a bit of relief, Joe turned away to begin preparing then stopped and turned back, "Oh. Uh… wait here while I set things up but also, I will not be able to understand you soon. Is there any last questions you wish to ask me?"

The boy stared at him with a strange look, head quirked to the side even as he shook his head no. Joe took it for what it was and nodded, grateful for not having to continue to speak.

"Right. I'll be right back."

Joe turned away and marched into the forest even as he made changes to his system. Help. Set the language uh… French… to polyglot's Language Expertise skill. Relief flooded back into him even as he reset his language and turned to head deeper into the woods. Don't wanna do work too much here… but… He paused and looked around the area, then looked up. After a bit, he found a promising spot that was even better than he'd hoped and he grinned. Right… that'll work, but… I gotta do this fast!

Joe turned back towards the forest and marched up and down, searching for the right sized trees before felling them rapidly with a vengeance, his axe making short work of them. It did take him a good chunk of time to engage his mana infused stats, and a massive amount of mana, but Joe took the twenty or thirty minutes to do so just so he could have the easy strength to do the work. It cost him a good chunk of time up front, but saved him so much more in the end. The effort did reveal one rather interesting tidbit of information; the initial cost of mana was greatly affected by his intention and mental efforts, but once engage, the cost was much lower to maintain, even the more expensive intent only method. It does still cost a lot more in comparison to a good mental image, but still… getting it going and just keeping it… yeah… If I plan well, I can still use this in a fight… if I got time…

He got a good half a dozen logs cut down easily enough and then piled them up in a location not that far to where he was hoping to setup the boy. His axe worked pretty quick as he split the tree trunks into very rough boards, getting three or four very longs ones from the smaller trees and quite a bit more from any larger ones.

Even as he did this, he began thinking on the next part and found himself stymied, struggling to figure out how he could do kind of binding and finally settling on needing to do a combination of rope and weaving with the boards. That means… gonna need to make the boards a bit… thinner.

Joe grimaced at the thought and shifted to searching for a solution. Stress had tension winding up through him and mana seeped from him, flowing into his body and up into his mind. After he finished making the trees he had into respectable planks, he turned to searching the forest for more trees that matched what he was doing as well as finding some kind of vine like material he could use as rope. The latter proved difficult, and worry began to worm its way into his guts and he sharpened his focus, fear that he couldn't finish any time soon driving him.

It proved unfounded as while he was finding his last tree for the current work session, he found an interesting plant that glowed. The glow proved to be a perfect highlight, revealing itself to Joe, although the glow died out moments after it was plucked. Curiosity had him playing with it a bit until he found it to really be what he needed. With this, he stopped tree hunting and began rushing through the forest pealing back dozens of the vines before bringing them back to the pile of trees. Not really any time to treat any of this stuff… but it's just gotta hold together for a month… maybe two?

Joe grinned, and dropped the vines on the ground in a pile before returning to working with the trees, chopping up trees into planks. It wasn't easy, and a few of the trees turned out mangled. But, he was able to get some very rough planks pealed out and when he was done, he looked up to the sun, concerned at how long he'd taken, only to be completely taken aback to find the sun hadn't moved at all. Joe frowned, then noticed the mana flowing through his body and in that moment, relaxed, remembering his mana infusion efforts. But even as he became aware, his mana control and effects destabilized and fell apart. Joe grit his teeth, griping a bit before turning back to his pile of wood and vines. Going to take forever to haul all this ba… And I gotta infuse again… going to take a big chunk of time… Aaah!

Joe, in a rush, tried to push it but no mana welled out and nothing flooded through his body and Joe grimaced. Joe focused and closed his eyes, preparing carefully and deeply as he settled into a meditative state for a good couple dozen minutes until he was able to enter a state to use his mana infused system stats, albeit poorly. Still, it proved enough and he soon had the materials piled up at the waterfall next to where he'd left Johnnie.

Johnnie greeted him on his return and Joe took it as a greeting as well and replied in kind, although both turned silent as Joe bent to his work. About an hour later, Joe had a poorly constructed but safe tree house hidden high in the branches above directly over the creek below hidden by unusually thick foliage from branches nearby. Most of the vines were spent tying the boards together and to the branches and trunks. The rest he spent on building a ladder and a single long rope from which he dangled a poor bucket substitute.

That rope, both for the bucket and for the ladder, was a major trial. He'd never braided anything before, although he knew how to do so quite intimately, having watched his mother and sister doing it mainly for their hair. Everything began easily enough, ripping cloaks into long relatively thin strips and prepping them to braid together into a long rope. However, when he began braiding the three together, things became rather wild. His fingers stumbled over one another while the strips seemed to dance wildly in the wind, deliberately fouling his efforts. His frustration rose greater and greater until, in a moment of extreme effort, he put forth his best to force the issue and finally realized what happened as the seemingly accidental finger fumbles and blowing of the strips became utterly magical, one strip ripping from his hands and flying off before fluttering to the ground. Watching that strip flutter to the ground hammered home that there was no wind and he stared down at his hands, realization settling in. Why? How… Oh! I've never done it before…

Joe picked up the strips and tried to braid them once again, and quickly saw how they fled from his fingers even as his fingers fumbled, losing all dexterity and skill. Is that … the trick? Or is it… more bluntly played out because of my naturalization? It… Joe looked through his inventory once again, considering the tools he had been given in arriving on the planet; swords, spear, staff, shields, and bow for weapons including survival gear such as fire starters and several other tools.

He considered his various tools before picking something he knew he had little experience with; the great sword. He'd never really learned it in his martial arts journey, his primary focus was on tonfa, spear, and staff with a few minor experiences in daggers, short, and long swords before he quickly found he didn't like bladed weapons too much. His spear skills survived only because of how close spear and staff tended to be, so his spearwork continued to grow simply by virtue of his efforts in learning the staff.

Although… now… Swords were likely something he could enjoy a bit more viscerally now. He hadn't like using them much back on Earth only because he had to use facsimiles or hold himself back quite a bit when using them. Staves were also rather dangerous, he understood that, but the mental burden in worrying about using a bladed weapon seemed to be a bit more overbearing than using the tonfa and staff.

With some concern, Joe pulled out his tonfa and breathed a sigh of relief when he found the two weapons laid in his hands with no issue whatsoever, even without clasping them; just resting them in his open palms. His bow came out next, less worried about being harmed with it and it too proved compliant in his hand. Staff, spear, and sword came next and there were no issues of any kind. Worry spiked as he pulled out the great sword then frowned when nothing happened, the weapon sitting in his hand with ease. Joe frowned, bothered. But… then … He flipped open his status and began scrolling down his list of skills until he came upon gladiator and found the answer. Oh… yeah! Staring at him in burnt red, the skill 'Weapons: All' glowed back at him. Gives me access to all weapons… right… then…

Joe frowned bitterly, then glanced over the rest of his tools that he'd kept safe in his inventory that was offered to him by his alien abductors. He searched through the list diligently but found nothing that really seemed to point to a skill that would be locked behind a system. It wasn't until he'd gotten to the first aid kit that an idea struck. He smiled brilliantly and pulled out the needle and thread. Obviously for cuts and wounds… but... Sewing would definitely be a skill, right? Locked in cloth worker… or something… and I know that job exists… with Kilniara and Zilnek. Bitterness twisted his face even as he thought of their names before cutting off the thought with grinding teeth and continuing on with his efforts.

So… let's try to sew some of these strips together. Joe watched with satisfaction as the needle and thread whipped out of his control as soon as he thought of trying to use it for the intended purpose. He grinned, grateful for having figured things out, but bitter knowing that some of the tools he now had wouldn't be useable. He picked up the needle easily enough, especially if he simply kept his thoughts on cleaning up and putting things away; the thread and needle obedient to his efforts.

But any thought otherwise had the things ripping from his hand in wild abandon, sometimes even harming him. Matches with how weapons flip away… So then… I never really started fires… too much before… so… maybe try that? He pulled out his fire starter with some fear and prepared to flick it a couple times to get a small blaze and frowned. The tool vibrated wildly in his hands, but remained decently in his control. It was a struggle, but he was still able to control it. His frown grew and he sucked it back into his inventory before pulling out his needle and thread again, struggling even more firmly to hold the needle but watched with consternation as it flew from his hand with ease, no amount of grip kept it in hand.

Why? That's… is that… what's going on? Over the next few moments, Joe brought out various tools he had experience with, and found almost all of them easy to use and keep in his grip, although some of them fought a bit more than others. But when he pulled out a pen, that rested perfectly calm in his hand. No knowledge of it? Or… something else? Joe began to play with all the tools at his control, and soon came to recognize one very obvious result. Anything he'd never used before all flipped from his hand without fail, beyond his ability to control. But anything he'd used before, and the key factor seemed to be that it had to be used successfully, it remained in his hand and under control decently enough, although some seemed to fight Joe's control a bit more than most. The first starter was one of the worst, fighting him pretty bad.

Why … I didn't… Memory flooded into him, his careful preparations of hiding his pod and settling into the dilapidated cabin, building his fire there before clicking the accept button. Did that… make a difference? But… That was… literally only used one time!

Wonder and understanding flooded him and he began pulling out the tools he had, and found that those he'd used longer rested more easily in his hand. There were exceptions, and those exceptions quickly painted another picture, especially when the memory of when he first used tonfa came to mind. It's not length of time! It's skill! The tonfa never fought me, even when I didn't have the skill or job open! I've definitely used spear and staff much more! But even they still shook a bit in hand… but the tonfa!

Realization hit hard then worry came next but a quick test of multiplication and some reading and writing efforts calmed him, all of those skills working without any effort. Trying to use other languages, a very weak skill for Joe, sent what few words he knew in some of his lesser studied languages flipping from his mind, even though he knew with certainty that he was able to use them only just before. Flipping open his language skill and applying that language reminded him quickly enough, and turning it off proved the point rather quickly, the knowledge gone from his mind as soon as he did so, even though he knew for a fact he knew how to say hello and goodbye in the language.

Past events began flooding to mind and he remembered how certain tools and weapons reacted in his hand, although now it seemed the reaction was much worse, the naturalization process being the first obvious cause for the new exaggerated reactions. So… blocks learning a skill… hard.. that's… but if I know it… or even practiced it even once, it lets me have it... although…

Joe played with the fire starter a few more times, starting a fire then tamping it out before doing it again, and watched with growing wonder as he seemed to learn the skill at an incredible pace, his fingers and hands striking and lighting the fire with greater and greater ease. Am I… learning faster? That…

He knew he learned pretty quickly, especially with tools and things, but this was fast enough that he noticed a difference and wonder came to him. He grinned, then grimaced. So… learn faster… a lot faster, but can't learn if you don't have the skill. Kinda a crippled… man… but once you've got the job and unlocked the skill… wait, does that mean… after the skill hits level one, its easier and faster? Or just… unlock the job and skill then voila! Curiosity hit for a bit but he put that as a problem for future him, adding it to a list to study later. Got too much to do right now! Joe glanced up to see the sun dropping.

He smiled a bit bitterly as he returned to his original task to create the rope for the rope ladder and dangling water bucket before succumbing to his circumstances and having to simply tie the strips of cloth together instead, grateful that knotwork wasn't locked behind some kind of tailor job as he tied the strips of cloak together into a long very poor rope for the ladder.

The rope ladder dangled down next to the trunk of one of the trees it rested upon, allowing the climb to be a bit easier. The rope tied to the poor bucket simile draped down upstream and allowed the kid to pull up fresh water as he needed. At the other end, downstream, Joe had put together a basin and seat with a hole in it to allow for a decent toilet. Small windows decorated the sides so the kid could look out as well as some very small holes in the corners where wall and floor met so the kid could look out all sides and check his surroundings.

It was small, even cramped, and poorly made. But, it was a pretty safe, resting on three branches and tied in place so as not to move. Even with that, Joe did feel a bit concerned for the place lasting past a couple months. But Joe had no plans to stay long in any case. Gotta come back in a couple months, though… maybe… Joe sighed then turned back, climbing down the vine ladder to the kid.

"Right. Wanna see home for the next bit?" Joe asked while gesturing up the ladder.

The kid cocked his head in surprise, staring up at Joe and Joe realized he didn't understand. Joe smiled in chagrin and simply pointed to the ladder and pointed the way up. The kid seemed to understand after Joe showed him how to use it and soon the two of them were in a cozy tree house high above the branches. He settled a small bed with the cloaks he'd brought and pulled out food and some of his figurines and boards he'd whittled, showing him checkers and tic tac toe. Joe had to turn his language skill back on for that as well as to explain some of the other things quickly before taking a look at the sun and grimacing. Wrapping things up, Joe bid the kid farewell, warning him once again to stay in the trees and not return.

After he'd returned to the ground and told the kid to pull the ladder back up, Joe swapped out his language skill again and quickly headed back to the camp. Already, he felt the drive from the collar pulling him back to his tent and Joe drove his thoughts towards returning home, sighing with some relief when the gripping obsession to return vanished to the background. With the certainty of the return, Joe grew more relaxed from the stress induced by the collar but felt the stress increase because of his soon return. A few moments later, he allowed insanity to settle upon him again, and began the slow, steady, wandering return home as he searched for the materials he needed.

Nobody even noticed his return and a few moments later, he was eating a dinner and heading straight to bed. Despite the torture session that night, Joe felt an immense relief and after the torturers left, healed his legs and returned to doing his katas. Even slicing off his legs once again before heading to bed once again proved easier, Joe now growing more and more numb to the necessities of his current position.

The next morning had him feeling much more calm and able to focus on seeking his freedom. Over the next two or three days before the end of the week, Joe ran over what he needed to do to get free, and it became increasingly clear that he had nothing and the only path forward was to try to explore the collars that were not on his neck. Maybe… those balls? In the box? Granted, he'd need to be closer to that station where the new slaves were brought. So began the plan that he would begin randomly camping in various places around the camp. Picking places for random placement was easy enough as he cared little for where he ended up except for the one place that mattered. Finding an obvious spot to rest near where the new slaves were collared took a bit of time, but Joe soon had a spot that was close enough but not so close as to discomfort any guards when the chance came that he could watch the collaring process.

He then spent the next week wandering from spot to spot, never sitting in one spot long. He aimed for random movement, time, and length of stay as much as possible, all driven by a certain insane purpose. He wasn't sure he really succeeded, but then again, none of the guards nor the slave master seemed to care.

Joe also quickly came to realize he needed to be able to understand what all of them where saying and so, with great fear and anxiety, Joe flipped his language skill back on and began listening in. He had to work very hard not to react to anything that he was hearing, but he quickly began to gather quite a bit of information over the next day or two. However, it soon became quite repetitive and fear drove Joe to retreat back into his ignorance once little of what he heard proved useful any longer.

Still, he began to practice a strategic use of his language skill, popping it on when he was next to two people that were talking in what Joe felt was a serious way. However, he never kept his language skill on anywhere near where the slave master was, always only turning it on when he knew where the slave master was and he really was cautious to keep the slave master always in his sight. He never stared at the man, though, too cautious to do such a thing.

The end of the week came and Joe's calendar proved correct as the man called for all slaves to muster before orchestrating another mass murder. Joe watched on, diving deep into his insanity, but struggled to keep the rage and pain from his face, tears welling in the corner of his eyes. The slaves being trained wailed around him except for a few who knew what was coming and had hardened themselves to it. Rage echoed across the field even as it turned muddy from blood and tears. Corpses of small children fell to the ground, staggered at the feet of the men and women who'd come to find some kind of peace in their presence. And through it all, the slave master wandered amongst the people tenderly speaking to them as some bizarre grandfather figure. Joe's rage burned.

The slave master wandered among the weeping men and women and tenderly brushed away tears and comforted the people. Things took a turn, however, when the slave master stopped before Joe and began speaking. Joe ignored it as he knew his insanity would, fawning after the slave master as if he was the boss in his insane job. Joe turned to face him, nodding and listening as if he was a good obedient worker sycophant. And the slave master tenderly caressed his cheek and face for a time while he spoke, looking into Joe's eyes deeply with compassionate concern.

Joe struggled to hide his rage and disgust, pretending and holding his place. Things continued well enough for Joe to guesstimate what was going on before the slaver shook his head with dismay and took a step back to stand before all standing there. Concern shivered through Joe, although he kept his face impassive. Going off script here… but makes sense cause of what I did? A few moments later, the slave master yelled out, calling loudly, then waiting patiently. The large yell came out again, this time echoed by guards stationed all around the camp, even several around the edges of the camp standing in the forest edge. The slave master's small confident smile remained even as they waited for a couple minutes, obviously waiting for the boy to come running back. However, with the third yell, the sound echoing out across the whole camp and into the depths of the forest, the small smile twitched slightly as no reply or returning footsteps could be heard from the forest.

A fourth yell rang out, this time with a firm disappointment tinged with anger warping the slave master's face and then he held his silence for a good ten minutes or so after all the guards had echoed the slave master's yell. All remained silent, unmoving and diligently attending to the slave master but the slave master's mood grew ever more dour, a deep anger scouring away his controlled passive face to reveal the growing rage underneath. The guards grew tense and reserved, fear freezing them in place even as all the slaves also became statue like. Anger began to tinge some of the slaves who'd been upset with Joe's previous actions and while fear of the slave master kept them locked in their place, Joe knew things were going to get worse.

The silence continued, and everyone grew ever more uncomfortable even as the rage became more apparent on the slave master's face. Finally, the slave master's anger broke, and he screamed as loud as he could at the top of his lungs. Joe didn't know what was being said and was too fearful to reenact his language skills to find out. The slave guards all began to echo what the slave master had screeched out, but his immediate cry of rage cut them all off and he screeched out again, this time alone with no other making any noise at all.

Joe continued to play insane, staring around without concern or worry. And at the back of it all, his collar itched slightly, a deep burn in his mind that he barely held back only because the slave master never seemed to actually ask him where the boy was. Only stood before him with mocking certainty of what was about to happen.