I Woke Up In Another World As A Slave

The entrance of the tent flap rustled. Some miners peeked out to see what was happening, but he didn't care. All his attention was on the man mocking him to his face. Fuck you!

"I will never apologize to someone who disrespects my name. Maybe you should apologize to me!"

"What is a little goblinshit like you gonna do, Recruit?" Cadmun asked, overly stressing the last word.

Cadmun's face was now right in front of his. A prominent vein ran alongside the big scar down to his collarbone. He could feel Sir Frost's hot breath.

"The name's Stick!" He was fed up. "I don't care if you're a knight! Call me Recruit once more, and I'll send you on your ass like I did with PP!"

Cadmun ground his teeth. Then he stepped back, smiled, and burst into laughter.

He stomped his foot and raised his hands as PP had during their fight. "You want a go, Cadmun?"

But Cadmun only laughed louder. "That's the spirit!"

Confused, he lowered his arms again. What?

"Just like him." Cadmun thumped his stomach repeatedly. "You're just like him!"

"What? What are you saying?" He blushed anew.

"You're funny!" Cadmun eventually said, letting out another chuckle.

He clenched his fist again. "What's so funny?"

"You're Montgomery," Cadmun said with a giggle. "You're a little Monty."

His will to fight faded with the mention of that name. Huh?

"You're funny!" Cadmun reiterated. "And just like Montgomery, you don't care about seniority."

"I—well, of course I do!" he defended himself. "You just didn't respect my name!"

"And your name is more important." Cadmun met his eyes. "If you truly valued seniority, then you'd never speak to me like that, would you?"

"I don't—I don't—" he couldn't end the sentence. "I guess not."

"It's either your way or no way, right?" Cadmun provoked him.

He paused to consider. "I don't care about your way if you won't respect mine. That's just basic decency."

"Good, good. That's the attitude you'll need to become a great hero." Cadmun's gaze drifted to the campfire. "Montgomery could've been great too. But he was too lazy to put in the effort."

He was?

"Do you think he's dead?"

Cadmun took a deep breath. "We have to face the facts, don't we?"

The thrill of their argument had died down. The entrance to the tent was closed again, but he knew the others were eavesdropping. It was eerily quiet at the campsite.

He broke the silence first: "What facts are you talking about?"

Cadmun raised his head. "We've had no sign of life for months. That tells us all we need to know."

Stick refused to give up on him. "Nothing is confirmed until we see a body. He's probably locked up in the mansion, pestering the Baron for being too cold and not getting his feet massaged."

Cadmun sighed. "You are a little hero, aren't you, Stick?"

Stick's lips formed a smile on their own. "No, I'm the greatest, remember?"

The bald man let out a weak laugh. "That remains to be seen."

The two stared at each other in silence for a moment.

"So," Stick finally said, "I wanted to ask you about something."

"What is it?"

Stick tried recalling his conversation with Lydia. "Is it true that you have red hair?"

Cadmun was taken aback. "Where did that come from?"

"Lydia told me some time ago," Stick clarified. "Is it true you kept a journal on red-haired people?"

"Of course," Cadmun said gleefully. "It's not every day you see one."

So it is true!

"Can I read it?"

The bald man looked perplexed by the request. "Why?"

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Because I want to know something."

"Sorry, but you can't."

"What? Why? Please, I need a clue about people who might be related to me."

Cadmun rocked his head back. "That won't be possible."

"Come on! I need to know who I am!" He felt a bit embarrassed to admit it.

"I wish I could help you, but I no longer have access to the journal."

"What do you mean?"

"It's at the Factory," Cadmun explained. "Somewhere in the mountains past the mines. It would be impossible to get it."

"Surely, you remember the people, right?"

Cadmun hesitated. "I'm sorry, there were many names on that list and it's been years."

"Oh no…" He felt deflated.

"There are only two people that come to mind."

A shimmer of hope built up inside of him.

"Really?"

"The first is obvious. It was none other than the Great Hero himself."

"What? No way!" Stick grabbed his orange hair, which he had seen reflected in a water bucket before.

Like me?

"I'm not joking. Arslan, the Godslayer, was indeed a ginger."

"Wow!"

"Though he wasn't quite as immature." Cadmun smiled.

Of course, he had to ruin it.

He tried to ignore the remark and pressed for more information. "And what about the other one?"

"The other one…," Cadmun said, "was the first and last redhead I've seen to date."

"Who is it?"

"A Travelling Merchant by the name of Redfield. He's from my hometown."

The information struck him like a revelation. "Pridtur?"

"Yes," Cadmun replied, "it figures that you're an Adventurer."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have read your Status."

"It's alright," the bald man assured him, "it's not like you're one of those Adventurers who destroyed it."

"Destroyed what?"

"Pridtur."

He felt a lump in his throat. He wouldn't put it past those Players to be that ruthless.

"What happened?"

"Let's just say, don't count on Redfield being alive if you're looking for relatives."

"Damn it! Fucking Carnifex."

Cadmun nodded. "That's all I have off the top of my head. Sorry, Stick."

A sinking feeling weighed on his chest. What if I'll never find out who I am?

He shook his head, as if the very thought of abandoning the search this early was an affront to his identity. "I guess I'll have to find that journal."

"Good luck getting out of here first."

As midnight approached, the glow of the dying embers in the fireplace gradually faded, giving way to the moonlight from above. There was one burning question he had as a result of their talk.

"There's something else on my mind."

Cadmun crossed his arms. "What are you waiting for? Go ahead!"

"You're bald."

"Took you long enough to notice," Cadmun sarcastically said with a frown.

"No, what I mean is, you're still bald," Stick reiterated. "How is that possible after so many months? I've never seen you shave."

"How is it possible that no one here is growing a beard?" Cadmun answered with a question.

Stick hadn't noticed before, but this oddity seemed to not be exclusive to Cadmun.

"It's because the Adventurers killed the Gods," Cadmun explained. "Or at least it started happening after the God of Death died three years ago."

"What started happening?"

"I should rather say it stopped happening," Cadmun ran his palm over his head. "We didn't think it was a problem at first."

"What wasn't?"

"At first our hair stopped growing. That was odd, sure, but nothing alarming," Cadmun explained. "Then we noticed that our elders wouldn't die of old age. By now it's been three years without a single natural death, at least none we've heard of. Something that the Carnifex knights have jealously discussed before."

"That's incredible! Sounds like a blessing!"

"We too thought that was a blessing in the beginning."

An uneasy feeling grew in Stick's stomach.

"But then our children stopped growing," Cadmun's face looked ice-cold in the moonlight. "Haven't you noticed that the lords look too young to be seventeen years old?"

"I haven't put much thought to that," he had to admit.

"Does Timothy look like an eighteen-year-old to you?"

The realization slapped him right across the face. Eighteen? That can't be true! He's just a boy!

Cadmun, noticing that his point landed, continued: "What do you think a conqueror does when the conquered society doesn't age? When babies stay babies? When fetuses never grow to become human and have to die? When no more offspring is birthed?"

He felt like he already knew the answer and didn't want to hear it.

Cadmun answered himself: "He keeps the useful ones."

Stick felt like he was about to throw up. What the hell is wrong with those people?

"Calm down now, don't make that face," Cadmun said, "there's still good news."

"What kind of good news could there be? We're condemned to live as slaves for eternity!"

"No, not for all eternity," Cadmun tried to assume a more hopeful tone. "Adventurers still age normally. We'll outlive them someday."

Will I stop aging too?

"And when will that be? When the Baron dies of old age in eighty years?"

Cadmun chuckled. "Maybe. But before that, Lord Alastair will get us out of here."

Stick gave Cadmun a critical look.

"So what? We escape and wait for the enemy to die of old age? That's your master plan? And what then? What if we're wiped out by a pack of Dire Wolves one day? Or an accident occurs and someone falls into a hole. One by one we die off until one day all of humanity is just gone."

"You just have to trust in him, that he'll find a solution for that too. He has studied the Gods more than anyone else in the world. Given enough time, he'll uncover all of their secrets. And he'll have plenty of time, as long as Carnifex doesn't find him first."

Cadmun tried to calm him down, but the whole conversation made him giddy. I can't trust someone who I don't know if he even is alive to be our only hope of escape. We have half a year to get the twins out of here. If the Baron gets rid of them first, then we'll have a lifetime of suffering in front of us before we can be free. I need to make a move as soon as possible!

"You sure put a lot of trust into that man," Stick said.

"He's the smartest person I know," Cadmun retorted.

"But he is not here. How can you be so sure?"

"There's nothing confirmed until we see a corpse."

Damn it. Tired of the conversation, he picked up the tent. Cadmun picked up on that clue and walked away without further discussion.

"Good night," Sir Frost said.

"Good night," Stick replied.

His gaze jumped from tent to tent. It'll take a very convincing plan if I want their support.

When he opened the flap of the tent, he was surprised to see most of the slaves still awake and waiting for him in silence. They asked with big eyes how it felt to stick it to Cadmun, to talk back to their superior. They were careful to talk in hushed tones, as to not be heard by the other tent. The more he explained how good it felt to stand his ground, the more captivated the men were. It was clear that they admired his rebellious spirit. They were fed up with the complacent attitude from the Sirs and Lords. They didn't want to wait around anymore. They wanted to take action. They wanted Stick. Slowly but surely, he'd built a following without realizing it. If he was able to convince a few high LVLs to join him as well, then they could actually make it. Watch out Bonatelli! Watch out Carnifex! Watch out World! Stick Arslan, the Greatest Hero has arrived!

He took a look around the roughly twenty men around him, eager to hear him speak. He only had one question in his mind.

"When is the next holiday?"