Cursed Odyssey

They all watched silently.

Was this truly the same man? Was the slave mark really that powerful?

"Rayah." Arthur's voice cut through the noise, casual but firm. "Like I said before, I don't care about you or your slave, but keep it down."

"Oh, dear Arthur." Rayah's tone dripped honey over poison. "Don't worry—I'm almost finished. If someone was coming, they'd be here already. So be a good little boy and keep your mouth shut."

The other cellmates held their breath, stomachs churning as they watched. None dared intervene. Too many emotions swirled between them—disgust, fear, resignation. Crossing Rayah wasn't worth the risk, especially with the Vandymions potentially coming. This wasn't hurting any of them directly. Why risk everything for one unknown dreg slave? Perhaps this would even soothe her anger, for their own sake—

"ENOUGH!"

Skylar's roar shattered the oppressive silence like stone through glass. Not her usual mutter or whisper, but a bellowing screech that rang throughout the entire prison.

The sudden eruption jolted everyone. Eyes snapped wide.

Rayah's laughter died instantly. Surprise flashed across her face before twisting into a cruel smile. She kicked Zephyr away, grabbing his chin and sending him sprawling with a grunt. All watched him cough and struggle, eyes vacant and gray.

"Well, well, well... look who found their voice!" Rayah's mockery cut sharp as a blade. "What's wrong, darling Skylar? Does watching my dog obey fill you with misplaced envy?"

"Shut up, Rayah!" Skylar's voice trembled slightly. "He's a human being, not some... toy!"

"Oh, the irony..." A cruel grin spread across Rayah's lips. "If he bothers you so much, I can order him to lick your feet as well. Would that appease your delicate sensibilities?"

Skylar's face reddened, but her gaze held firm. "No! I don't understand—is this some sick fetish? How can you treat another human being like this?"

"Pfft!" Rayah scoffed, lips curling in amusement. "Simple, dear. He's my property. My personal dreg. Thanks to House Vandymion's gracious mercy, this creature gets to breathe another day. He exists solely because of our generosity. He'd already be dead and rotting if not for me. The least he can do is serve."

"What if the roles were reversed? What if you were in his position?" Skylar's voice rose, fists clenched as she looked toward Zephyr, then back at Rayah with new fire in her crimson eyes.

"Simple. Then I, too, would be a subservient dreg," Rayah declared, as if stating the obvious. "Everyone has their place—nobles at the top, dregs at the bottom. That's the natural order, and it should be respected. But why should I ponder such nonsense when it'll never happen?"

"THAT'S SO EASY FOR YOU TO SAY! Let's see how you—"

"Quiet. Both of you." Arthur stepped forward like a wall between them. "Come on, give it a rest. We all know—"

Metal clanged against bars. A guard appeared through the darkness, glare settling on Skylar where the voice had originated.

"WHAT IN SANCTUM IS THIS RUCKUS ABOUT?"

"Nothing, sir!" Rayah simpered, all traces of anger vanishing behind a mask of meekness. "Just a... disagreement among friends."

"I don't give a shit about whatever this is. Noble, schmoble—who cares? You all piss me off equally, and you all look the same under my boot! Just keep your traps shut. Damn it all... I'd have beaten all your asses right now if I wasn't tired as a kryks. Lucky for you that Urslan got transferred away—he'd have burned you all to a crisp without a second thought. Now I gotta deal with this shit... I'm warning you, there won't be a next time." He left with a yawn, and the tension visibly lessened.

As the guard's footsteps faded, heavy silence settled over the cell. The crackling tension dissipated, leaving uneasy calm. Rayah retreated to her corner, glancing briefly at Zephyr with bored disinterest before sitting down.

For someone who never stopped talking, she was now unusually quiet, like a switch had flipped in her head.

Skylar slowly approached Zephyr in the silence. Gracefully, she lifted him and set him against the wall. As his eyes fluttered open, he caught a glimpse of her retreating figure—short hair that glistened like embers, face gray as charcoal, and a shaky shimmer in her eyes that could only be tears. She'd stood her ground so well he'd almost forgotten she was merely a child.

As the campfire's light began to wane, the others followed Rayah's lead. A silent agreement settled over them to let the matter rest—at least for now—among everyone except Gwynn.

"That was quite something, wasn't it?" Gwynn's cheerful voice whispered into the void. It lingered through uncomfortable silence before the void finally whispered back its harsh melody: "Just shut the fuck up and go to sleep, kid."

Only silent darkness remained. Joseph could barely see his own hands, let alone the dark silhouettes of his sleeping cellmates. But unlike them, too much weighed on his mind to consider sleep.

---

Zephyr

Pain pricked every point in my body like molten needles. Bruised and battered, I felt barely able to move, like glass that could shatter at the lightest breeze. The taste of filth lingered fresh on my tongue, yet that taste came with no sensation.

After all, it wasn't me who did it, but the original Zephyr. In that final moment, he'd switched places with me. To me, it felt like nothing more than a dream.

Was he trying to save me from humiliation? Or perhaps did he want to do it? I had no idea, but unfortunately leaned toward the latter.

To say I wasn't slightly relieved would be a lie. Yet did I feel regret for what I did? For not speaking up? For trying my best to emulate the original Zephyr?

Not at all.

In the end, it would all be worth the trouble.

At least now if I suddenly changed my demeanor, it wouldn't appear out of place but would seem like a reaction—a lesson learned from this punishment.

I should count myself lucky the original Zephyr only went this far when he took over. Keeping him under control would be difficult indeed.

Nevertheless, this was the least of my current problems.

Only my second day in this world, and I'd already learned so much. From what Norman Jire revealed to the recent outburst, I now felt a faint sensation of normalcy in this cage. A world beyond my wildest imagination lay just beyond these stone walls.

And the more I learned, the more I understood they all had their secrets. Nothing was as it appeared.

From how Rayah spoke of her family, the Vandymions—the family that took the original Zephyr in—were powerful noble arcanists who would soon reduce this entire prison to rubble. Just imagining such power made me internally shudder.

Rayah was an insufferable spoiled child, true, but I found harsh truth in her words. Unlike Earth, where the world ran on money, this world ran on power and status. A dreg worth billions would still be looked down upon, endlessly manipulated, robbed, and exploited. On Earth, wealth was something any man could obtain with sufficient knowledge and hard work. I was living proof—starting from orphaned rags to leading an entire syndicate. However, in Sanctum, the Arcana gods weren't so kind. Some were blessed more than others, and some were without blessings—graceless dregs born to die. This was fact, truth, undeniable. Nothing like Earth's racism and slavery, where there was no difference in ability from man to man.

Nobles seemed to be the pinnacle of blessings, rising through ranks on power alone. A dreg was lesser than a commoner, and a commoner lesser than a noble. This was no mere social construct.

The Vandymions—if such a force was truly coming, then I might as well throw my escape plans out the window and simply wait, quietly serving Rayah until the time came.

But Arthur was adamant they would never come.

Only time would tell. It changed nothing—I would proceed with my current plans regardless.

Now... I looked down at my wrapped wooden arm as the words left my lips without sound.

Temporal Echo, Act 1.

*Drip.* *Drip.*

Two water droplets fell from the ceiling. As if by instinct or unknown power, I lifted my left hand and snapped.

*WOOSH.*

My eyes, usually keen as ever, widened. Where familiar dimness had been, a ghostly realm of ethereal smoke coalesced like cool flame igniting. It pulsed with faint white light—smoky, details barely discernible to ordinary eyes, yet to me the outlines were clear as midday sun. The hazy projection stretched across the cell, encompassing everything within a ten-meter radius.

Spectral figures of my sleeping cellmates flickered into existence. Gwynn paced restlessly in slumber, his lanky form twitching with unease. Flynn's mouth gaped open, tongue lolling out comically as Arthur unconsciously scooted away. Beyond them, where cold stone wall should have been, misty outlines of the adjacent cell materialized, every detail sharply defined as if a window had been cut into rock.

An otherworldly sight. A world within a world.

And then, as I stared in awe—

*Drip.* *Drip.*

Those same two water droplets again. My eyes widened further—not identical drops, but the same ones.

The projection wasn't simply a brighter room made of white smoke, but like viewing a video recording of the room as it was ten seconds in the past.

Slight panic overcame me. Could others see this too? I'd done it on instinct. But from the sudden shadow of a patrolling guard outside, my fears were quelled. This was for my eyes alone.

Just as quickly as it manifested, it disappeared, like evaporated steam washed away by wind.

As it ended, fatigue and tightness gripped my chest.

So... this is my arcane art. Temporal Echo. At least, my first experience with it.

For now, I knew I could not only see and hear the past but also see through walls within a certain radius, at the cost of arcane energy. When I examined my core, I noticed it felt like an entire chunk had been removed. But the cost was worth it, and I could feel my energy would soon recover.

I'd assumed I'd receive some offensive technique, but this was far more useful. It would accelerate my escape plan, and I suspected this wasn't all it could do. However, more testing risked accidentally revealing the technique, so it was best saved for later. Perhaps not alone.

For now, rest was best.

Still... that feeling I'd had since entering this cell lingered. This subtle pressure, like sharp fangs hovering around my neck. I looked around once more into the abyss, and it was like the abyss stared back. Unsettling dread welled in my heart, yet what was I supposed to do? Best not overthink something I had no power over.

My body still ached from injuries, so I enveloped myself in a thin layer of cool ki and put my head down, lulling myself to sleep.

---

If only he knew what was to come...