I Woke Up In Another World As A Slave

With the freezing wind blowing through his hair, Stick rode hard toward the southwest exit, his eyes flicking constantly over his shoulder. Each glance confirmed the same thing: the Lords were on their way to the southern exit, just as planned. Relief mingled with anxiety in his chest. It was a good thing he was the one to take the horse to Smith. Now Shadis could look after the twins if anything else went wrong with their plan. He found it strange how surprised everyone had been to see him handle the horse so easily, despite his lack of formal training. Must be a Player thing. No time to dwell on it now.

Stick looked back one last time, seeing the massive pillar of smoke rising from the burning shanty town. Hopefully, they've got it under control.

That damn fire. Everything went wrong that day, but it was the enormous fire that went off too soon that bothered Stick the most. Even if they succeeded with the escape, they had done a lot of damage to those who decided to stay behind. No, not 'us'. Someone did that. Someone who knew about the plan. A traitor.

Stick's thoughts were interrupted the moment he arrived at the palisade. The sounds of ferocious Dire Wolves tearing into the scraps of meat being thrown over the wall reached his ears. Smith was there, just as they'd planned, tossing the last of the bait to keep the beasts occupied.

"About time you showed up!" Smith called out as Stick dismounted, his tone laced with impatience. "I'm running out of bait."

"Let's get moving then," Stick replied, urgency clear in his voice.

"What's up with that fire? You can't even see the mansion from here," Smith said, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

"There's no time to explain! Let's get those wolves in!" Stick snapped, not wanting to waste another second.

Smith didn't press further, sensing the tension. He walked a few feet away from the entrance, out of sight of the wolves, and raised the last pieces of meat high above his head.

"You ready?" he asked.

Stick could hear the impatient, hungry growls on the other side of the wall. A knot of worry twisted in his gut, but he forced himself to nod. He couldn't afford to show any fear. Without another word, Smith flung the meat over the wall and rushed back toward Stick. The wolves went berserk, snarling and howling as they fought each other for the scraps. The frenzy was terrifying, but there was no time to think about it. Stick and Smith hurried to lift the defense and open an entrance. As they did, a massive maul pushed through the gap, its bloodshot eyes locked on the mansion grounds.

"Shit!" Smith cursed. "That's too soon! Way too soon!"

"Don't you have anything left?" Stick asked, panic creeping into his voice.

"Nothing!" Smith shouted back.

The wolves piled up against the opening, their hunger driving them to reckless ferocity. One of them got impaled on the spikes, letting out a deafening growl that spooked the horse. The mount reared up, trying to bolt.

"Fuck!" Smith yelled. "Stick, get the horse!"

Stick hesitated, the danger of leaving Smith alone against the wolves weighing heavily on him. "It's too dangerous!" he protested.

Smith flashed a grim smile. "Don't worry! I know how to get on a moving horse."

The horse started to pick up speed, its panic growing.

"Come on! It's more dangerous to run on foot!"

Reluctantly, Stick agreed and took off after it, calling out repeatedly until he finally managed to catch up. He grabbed the reins, struggling to calm the frantic animal before leading it back toward the palisade. Smith was wrestling with the spikes, the wolves clawing and snapping through the gap.

"Turn it around! We have to get out of here fast!" he shouted.

Stick brought the horse as close as he dared, trying not to spook it again.

"Let's go!" he called out to Smith.

"Alright!" Smith shouted back. "Here it comes!"

Smith released the spikes and immediately the wolves poured through, their massive forms tearing into the space with terrifying speed. The horse panicked, rearing up and trying to flee.

"Hold on!" Stick yelled, barely managing to keep his seat as Smith sprinted toward him.

But the wolves were on them in an instant. Smith cried out as their teeth sank into his legs, making him stumble a few feet. Another two sank their humongous teeth into his arms, this time with blood spraying across the ground. With a desperate effort, he broke free and ran, his wounds slowing him down. Stick leaned over, extending an arm, and just as Smith reached him, he pulled him up onto the horse. But the wolves weren't done. One lunged forward, biting into the horse's flank, causing it to scream in terror. The horse bolted, the men clinging to its back as it galloped away, the wolves in hot pursuit. Stick struggled to keep the mount under control, feeling it weaken beneath them, blood pouring from its wound. Smith was bleeding heavily too, his face pale and twisted in pain.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"This is bad," Stick muttered, his voice tight with fear.

But there was no time to think about that. They had to keep moving, had to get as far away from the wolves as possible. The horse was their only chance; wounded or not, it had to keep running. And they had to survive.

The wolves were hot on their heels, their snarls growing louder as the horse's rhythmic gallop began to falter. The scent of blood in the air had driven the pack into a frenzy, fueling their relentless pursuit. Stick risked a glance back, his heart pounding as he saw the wolves closing in, their eyes gleaming with hunger.

"Where are you going?" Smith shouted over the wind.

"Change of plans," Stick replied, his voice rough with determination. "We're heading straight for the stables."

Smith quickly checked the horse's wound, grimacing at the sight of the deep gash oozing blood. He looked back at Stick, a hint of admiration in his eyes.

"Quick thinking," he said with an approving nod.

Stick couldn't help but smirk. It was decided way before that but still…

Without warning, Smith lifted his arm, the blood spraying wildly in the air, leaving a crimson trail in the snow behind them.

"What the hell are you doing?" Stick yelled, eyes wide with shock.

"The pack's too big!" Smith shouted back. "I have to keep them from splitting up!"

"You'll bleed out! You have to cover that wound!"

"Eyes to the front, Recruit!" Smith's tone was harsh, a command that left no room for argument.

Stick bristled at the term, but he knew better than to argue. Seeing the wolves snapping at the air for the blood, he realized Smith was right. The former Goblin Hunter knew these beasts too well. Turning his attention back to the front, Stick's eyes widened as he finally spotted the stables in the distance. Relief flooded through him, but it was short-lived. A guard stood at the entrance, his face contorting in fear as he spotted the two riders with the ravenous wolves on their heels.

"Hey! What's with that fire?" the guard yelled, panic lacing his voice.

Stick and Smith didn't slow down. They barreled past the guard, crashing the gates of the stables open. The horse beneath them collapsed in exhaustion, sending them both tumbling to the ground in a painful heap.

"Stop right there!" the guard ordered, his voice trembling.

"No time!" Smith barked. "Get a move on! He'll hold them off!"

Shaking off the pain, Stick scrambled to his feet and fumbled with the gate to the stables. Inside, the horses were in a frenzy, their terrified whinnies echoing off the wooden walls. The guard outside fought desperately to hold off the wolves, but some slipped past him, their snarls filling the air as they descended on the fallen horse. Stick's heart clenched as he heard the sickening sounds of flesh being torn apart. There was no time for remorse. He yanked open the nearest pen, but the startled horse shot out, knocking him flat on his back before galloping outside—straight into the waiting jaws of the wolves. Stick felt bile rise in his throat, but before he could react, Smith grabbed him by the arm, his grip strong despite the blood soaking his rags. "Get up! No time to lose!"

Stick hoisted himself up, feeling the warmth of Smith's blood seep into his clothes. The air around them was filled with the chaotic noise of shouting, screaming, and the dying cries of horses. They moved quickly, freeing each horse one by one, leaving bloody handprints on the wooden gates as they went. Eighteen horses bolted outside, Stick counted, only to be met with a gruesome fate. Stick's mind was numb with horror, but he kept moving, kept counting. When they reached the last two horses, Smith acted fast, barring the entrance they'd come through, leaving only the far exit open.

Stick caught on immediately. "That way they can't run out."

But then, loud bangs echoed from the barred gate, sending a jolt of fear through both of them. Whoever was on the other side, wolves or Players, was not going to be friendly. Each grabbed a horse, preparing to make their escape. Smith positioned himself at the gate, ready to open it.

"You go first!" Smith ordered, his voice tense.

Stick hesitated, his eyes flicking to Smith's injured arm. "But your arm—"

"No time for discussions!"

Suddenly, the other side of the barn went eerily quiet, a silence that chilled Stick to the bone. He swallowed hard.

"Alright," he said, steeling himself. "Open it."

Smith flung the gate open, and Stick's heart plummeted as he saw who stood on the other side. It was the Baron's personal bodyguard himself: Stamos, the Lvl 50 Player. The man's heavy steps echoed ominously in the stables, his armor splattered with bright red blood, just like the last time Stick had seen him.

"There you are!" Stamos boomed. "I've been looking all over for you!"

Stick's mouth went dry. "Why are you here? How did you know?"

"You were running late on your Initiation," Stamos said mockingly. "I was worried sick. Thought I'd search for you by horse."

The battleaxe in Stamos's hand gleamed menacingly as he raised it, blocking the only path to escape.

"Stick, get out! Now!" Smith yelled, his voice cracking with desperation.

Before Stick could react, Smith lunged at Stamos, grabbing hold of the battleaxe with all his strength.

"What are you doing?" Stick shouted, panic rising in his chest.

"There'll be more if you don't leave!" Smith grunted, struggling to keep Stamos at bay.

Stamos growled in frustration, straining to break free from Smith's grip. "You little…"

"But the second horse—" Stick began, but his words were cut off as a wave of Dire Wolves poured in behind Stamos, their eyes blazing with bloodlust.

"The Lords need a horse! Just go! Get! Get!" Smith screamed, his voice raw.

Stick hesitated for only a moment before he kicked his horse into motion, riding past the chaotic struggle between the slave and the Player. From the corner of his eye, he saw Smith stumble and fall, the blood loss taking its final toll. The wolves were on him in an instant, their jaws snapping hungrily. As Stick rode away, the cacophony of dying horses, howling wolves, and Smith's agonized screams filled his ears. He fought to stay in the saddle as the world blurred around him, the cold wind now louder than the screams biting at his face as he descended the hill, leaving the nightmare behind.