I Woke Up In Another World As A Slave

The group pressed onward through the dense undergrowth, carefully sidestepping trees and bushes that threatened to snag their clothes and slow them down. Stick caught Nakamura glancing at Hadvar again. Not once, not twice—constantly. His eyes flickered between the man and the path ahead, his fingers twitching near his weapon. Was it fear? Distrust? Whatever it was, it was getting worse. The tunnel entrance loomed before them, shadowed and foreboding. Two guards stood in front, their posture rigid, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons. Hadvar didn't hesitate—he conjured a fine mask, its design reminiscent of the Jester Claudius, and draped himself in elegant robes. The transformation was striking. He looked every bit a Council member.

Nakamura stepped forward, voice steady. "We have business beyond the tunnel."

The guards barely reacted. One of them tilted his head. Unimpressed.

"Where's your carriage? Your luggage?"

"We don't have time for this. It's urgent," Nakamura said smoothly.

The second guard scoffed. "Urgent, but you came on foot?"

Stick saw Nakamura's jaw tighten. He was fast losing control of this exchange.

"Milord," Nakamura sighed, turning to Hadvar, "use the mask. Show them."

Hadvar lifted his chin and activated his Status display. The guards stiffened, their faces draining of color. They exchanged quick, uncertain glances, their composure faltering. Curious, Stick checked Hadvar's Status himself.

Every entry was blacked out except for the Name. The first name, that was. His stomach twisted. Is this the mask's doing?

Then, as if answering his unspoken question, Hadvar's name blacked out too.

"Enough," Hadvar said, his voice carrying an eerie weight.

One of the guards barely hesitated before stepping aside, pulling the chain that lifted the massive stone drape. The passage beyond yawned open, dark and waiting. Is Hadvar really that big of a deal?

They stepped inside, the air turning cool and stale. Stick ran a finger along the smooth tunnel wall. Too smooth. Uneasily, he pressed on. Just a few more meters, and they'd be in the clear. No one will know we passed through.

Then hooves thundered behind them. A messenger on horseback, his face taut with urgency, pulled up before the guards.

"No one is to pass!" he barked.

Stick froze. The guards turned back toward them. Hadvar moved first. The fine robes melted away, replaced by grotesque, malevolent armor that seemed to pulse with a dark presence.

"What the hell?" one of the guards barely had time to say before he crumpled.

The second barely got a syllable out before Hadvar slammed the hilt of his sword into his face. The messenger dismounted in one fluid motion, sword already drawn. Before he could close the distance, Shadis stepped in.

"Shadis, no!" Stick shouted.

Shadis didn't look back. "Go ahead. There's nothing you can do here."

Still, Stick hesitated. They all did. The fight erupted in a blur of steel and movement. Boots scraped against stone, breathless grunts filled the air. Hadvar and Shadis fought as if their lives depended on it. Because they did.

Finally, amid the chaos, Shadis roared, "Go!" and urged the rest to flee. The boys and PP scrambled ahead into the dark tunnel as Shadis' final words rang out, "We're right behind you!"

Stick wasn't sure he could believe that; the words sounded too final, too final to leave someone behind. But there was no time to dwell on it. Stick ran. He hated it. Hated leaving them behind. But he ran. The tunnel stretched before them, endless and black. No carriage this time. Just running. Running and more running, their breaths echoing off the walls. Stick lost his sense of direction. His mind played tricks on him. Were they going downhill? Uphill? He couldn't tell. The tunnel seemed to twist and turn, and he could swear they were descending into a deep, unyielding pit.

"Just keep running!" Nakamura panted. "The tunnel is straight. You won't hit anything."

Stick let out a shaky breath and pressed his hand against the wall. It was his only anchor in the suffocating dark.

"PP?" he blurted out without thinking.

"Yes?"

"Uh… it's nothing," Stick muttered, realizing that his worries about the dark were too strange to share.

But it wasn't nothing. The darkness felt wrong. Too thick. Too deep. Like when he first arrived, all those months ago. He was just grateful PP was there. Like in the mines. Like always.

The air grew heavier, pressing against their lungs. This tunnel wasn't built for running. How does it even ventilate?

A body hit the ground with a dull thud.

"PP?" Stick's throat was raw from breathing so hard.

"Yeah?" PP panted.

Stick exhaled. Then turned back. It was Nakamura on the ground, wheezing. The two former miners, despite their exhaustion, seemed to handle the difficult air better than their Carnifex counterpart.

"I—I can't—" Nakamura gasped.

"Get up!" Stick barked. "We're nearly there!"

"This is too much."

"Get a hold of yourself! We're sitting ducks in here! We have to get to the Goblin King's Steppes before more soldiers come."

"I'm sorry, I can't get up!"

Stick gritted his teeth. Whiny little—

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Shuffling in the dark. Then Nakamura's strangled protests.

"What are you doing? Let me down."

PP's voice was calm. "We're leaving."

"What? No. Let me go."

PP didn't stop. Stick couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of Nakamura wriggling uselessly on PP's shoulders.

"Where to, Stick?" PP asked. "I lost direction."

Stick tapped the wall, steady as ever. "Don't worry. I know the way."

With renewed determination, they resumed their sprint. They ran. And ran. Finally, a narrow slit of light appeared at the tunnel's far end. Their heavy breaths and sweat-drenched faces betrayed relief as they reached the massive stone drape on the other side. Nakamura clambered off PP's back with a quiet "Thanks," and together they searched for the chain to lift the drape.

"Here!" Nakamura shouted as he found it first.

One pull. Nothing. Two. Still nothing. On the third, the stone groaned and shifted. It took several strenuous attempts—the kind that made Stick wonder how Becket had managed it single-handedly—but at last, the drape lifted. Light poured in, blinding them. Their eyes adjusted. A clearing in the Whispering Woods stretched before them. They had made it. Stick turned back to the tunnel, heart pounding. Shadis…?

Before he could dwell, movement caught his eye. A figure stepped into view. The Jester. Claudius. Watching. He clapped his hands. Slowly.

"Well done," he said. "Well done indeed."

Stick's stomach turned to ice.

The three of them stood still, staring at the figure blocking their path. The High Council's jester, Claudius, loomed between them and freedom, his ever-present grin hinted at the edges of the mask.

"I must admit that I didn't expect you to get this far," Claudius mused. "Although, since I'm standing here waiting for you… I suppose I did."

He chuckled, a gloved hand theatrically raised in front of his mask, as if delighting in some unseen performance.

"What are you doing here, Claudius?" Nakamura asked, his grip tightening on his spear.

"The question should be, what are you doing here?" Claudius countered smoothly. "Conspiring with an enemy of the state?"

"I don't owe you an answer," Nakamura snapped. "Let us through."

A slow, deliberate clapping echoed from within the tunnel. Stick stiffened, instincts flaring. That wasn't just an echo—it was approaching.

"Little Hiro," Claudius cooed, his voice dipping into an almost fatherly tone. "Drop that hostile stance so we can talk properly."

"Talk?" Nakamura scoffed. "What's there to talk about? I was thrown into prison without the chance to speak."

"I know, and I tried to reach you," Claudius said, his voice softening slightly. "But your foolish father acted too rashly. You know how he is when it comes to you boys."

Nakamura's grip on his spear faltered for half a second.

"Leave my father out of this!" Nakamura barked, brandishing his weapon.

The noise in the tunnel grew louder—no longer just clapping. Stick's ears picked it up clearly now. Galloping. His stomach twisted. Had they already lost? Shadis…

Claudius raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Calm down. You don't want another charge of high treason. Especially not when I'm trying to help you clear the first one."

Nakamura hesitated, his weapon lowering slightly. "…What are you saying?"

Claudius's tone turned grave. "Turn the convicts in. This is your only chance at redemption."

Stick's pulse pounded against his skull. No. Not now. Not when we are this close.

The galloping grew louder, the sound reverberating off the tunnel walls. Stick's heart pounded. Is Claudius stalling?

"Nakamura," Stick hissed.

"I—wait…"

"What happened in the king's chambers was unfortunate," Claudius continued, "but it is also a chance to let you in on the kingdom's secrets."

The galloping was nearly upon them now, a ghostly echo bouncing through the tunnel. They were nearly here.

"All you have to do is prove your loyalty to the guild," Claudius pressed, "and turn them in."

Nakamura's fingers clenched around his spear. He was hesitating.

No. No, no, no.

"Nakamura!"

The hesitation broke.

Nakamura inhaled sharply, his voice steady now. "Father always said not to trust him."

Claudius rocked back and forth, his motions small, but undeniably entertained by Nakamura's hesitation. "Oh, you're hurting me."

Then, the tension shattered. Out of the tunnel, atop a galloping horse, rode Hadvar, clad in his crimson Carnifex armor. Relief flooded Stick—until he saw the slumped figure draped over the saddle.

"Shadis!" Stick rushed forward. "What happened?"

Hadvar dismounted with an impassive expression. "He got stabbed fatally," he said coldly. "What did he expect? They were LVL 50."

Stick knelt by Shadis, desperately checking his [Life Points]. 0. A numbness spread through him. He was already gone.

"You have to keep running, Mr. Arslan," Shadis grunted. "I'm dead weight."

"We can't," Stick said, pointing at Claudius.

Hadvar's gaze snapped to the jester, filled with seething hatred. "Claudius."

The jester gave a small twirl. "You know, in all my years at the castle, I haven't had as much fun as I did today. Why don't you entertain me a little more?"

"We don't have time for games," Stick growled. "We have to leave."

Hadvar nodded. "We hid the bodies behind the drape. We have plenty of time."

In an instant, Hadvar shed his crimson cloak, his grotesque black armor materializing over him—jagged and twisted, like something from a nightmare. The atmosphere darkened.

Claudius tsked, hands raised in mock surrender. "Oh no, no. Not that kind of game. I stand no chance when outnumbered."

Hadvar barely restrained himself.

"You'll lose your head soon enough," Hadvar muttered, his voice distorted through the helmet.

"There is no need for further bloodshed," Stick insisted, though even he wasn't sure if he believed that anymore.

Claudius clapped slowly, his mocking voice filling the clearing. "You've done well so far, my little heroes. Freedom is just at your grasp. But there is something Ed told me that leaves me no rest. Shall we see if the fools or the heroes flip the coin tonight? Heads or tails?"

A golden coin appeared between his fingers, glinting in the dim light.

"You can't be serious," Stick said.

"It's a simple question. And a simple game," Claudius explained. "You win: you go. You lose… well." He flipped the coin between his fingers. "You can always resort to violence later, since your head's so full of it."

Stick's mind raced. "What do you get out of this? You lose either way."

Claudius chuckled. "I get a story to tell. That's all I've ever wanted."

Stick's chest tightened. A story. That was what this had been to Claudius all along—a script he was directing. It didn't matter if they lived or died, as long as he got an ending worth telling.

"You really think you're getting out of this alive?" Hadvar asked.

Claudius ignored him, holding up the coin. "Heads or tails?"

Stick turned to Nakamura, who was desperately trying to stop Shadis's bleeding. He had no choice.

"Tails."

The coin flipped through the air. Claudius caught it, but didn't reveal the result immediately.

Stick clenched his fists. "Well?"

"What's it gonna be? Heads? Tails?" the jester asked, stretching out the moment. "Isn't it exciting?"

Hadvar pulled out his sword.

Claudius sighed dramatically, then lifted his hand. Tails.

"Yes," Stick exhaled.

"Well, would you look at that?" Claudius stepped aside, gesturing toward the treeline. "This is where we part ways. Don't worry, most people don't know about this tunnel. I won't tell. It's up to you now."

Up to us?

"Come on," Nakamura urged. "Before he changes his mind."

The group moved forward—but Claudius held up a hand, stopping Hadvar.

"One coin flip per hero."

Hadvar scowled. Stick hesitated, then nodded for the others to continue.

"So, what's it gonna be?" Claudius asked.

"Heads."

The coin flipped once more. This time, Claudius revealed the answer immediately. Tails.

"Looks like your luck has run out," Claudius said.

"Good," Hadvar answered.

Claudius grinned knowingly. "Why don't we wait until your advantage leaves?"

Hadvar raised his sword. "You heard him. Go."

Stick hesitated. "You don't have to kill him."

"Leave the horse."

Stick's stomach dropped. Shadis was still draped over it. But he knew better than to argue. That bastard.

"PP, please."

PP understood, lifting Shadis from the saddle. Stick felt Nakamura's hand on his shoulder.

"You don't want to see this."

With a nod, they turned away.

"The heads are ready to be flipped," Claudius said, raising a sword.

"So it would seem," Hadvar answered, although Stick got the feeling that Claudius wasn't talking to him.

As they stepped past the treeline, Nakamura raised his hand, and his ring glowed. The wall of trees parted, revealing the wide and open plains of the Goblin King's Steppes. They stepped past the trees, which closed the passage again. The capital of Carnifex, Nova Civitas, the soldiers, the tunnel, Hadvar, and the Council all gone behind the game world's natural border.

They were finally free.