I Woke Up In Another World As A Slave

Stick could feel his pulse hammering in his ears as Maria Leonhard's voice sliced through the tense air.

"You nearly killed my main tank."

Hirohiro, still on his knees, pressed his forehead deeper into the dirt. "We are so, so sorry!"

Stick barely registered his desperate plea. His mind reeled, struggling to place the first time he'd heard that name—Maria Leonhard.

She was imposing, effortlessly commanding. Her brunette waves cascaded over her shoulder, catching the soft light like strands of spun silk. Warm, honeyed skin complemented the golden lines of her armor, which gleamed with an almost sacred brilliance. Her lips, slightly parted, hinted at an unshaken confidence, while her dark, piercing eyes locked onto him, waiting—demanding—an answer for their group's foolishness.

"I don't want an apology," Leonhard said. "I want an explanation."

Hirohiro murmured under his breath, "This will be a national crisis…"

"You're Leonhard from B4!" Stick blurted out before he could stop himself.

She crossed her arms. "And you are?"

Her gaze flickered briefly over his Status. For just a second, Stick thought he saw something there—doubt? Recognition? For a second, her whole expression froze. Like she'd seen a ghost. But it was gone before he could tell. Instead, one eyebrow arched slightly. Maybe it was just his imagination…

"Page Stick Arslan?" she asked.

Page? Oh, right!

The reminder hit him like a splash of cold water—his new reality, his new role.

"Yes, ma'am!" Stick bowed, mirroring the way Gawain had done the day before. "Stick Arslan, Page of House Blitz."

"Oh ho!" A rough voice interrupted. "An aspirant knight!"

A large man with short brown hair and a twirled mustache stepped up behind Leonhard, then dipped into a deep, exaggerated bow. "Sir Hector Morrigan of the Order of House Cavon."

Stick's eyes widened. "You were a knight of the king?"

"One of the last."

"That was so cool out there!" Stick practically yelled. "What was it? Iron Castle? Whoa!"

Sir Morrigan twirled his mustache with a chuckle. "Yes, quite impressive, isn't it?"

"Thank you for saving us," Big Man said softly.

Sir Morrigan inclined his head. "You acted quickly. A man who can move in an emergency is a true man indeed." He paused, as if debating his next words. "Though I wouldn't underestimate the bravery and strength it took to shield you from the Mutant's devastating attack."

His gaze flicked toward Leonhard, perhaps seeking some confirmation, but she didn't react. Instead, her eyes remained fixed on Stick's Status. Something in Morrigan's composure faltered—just for a second.

"Pleased to meet you." Sir Morrigan extended a hand, which Stick eagerly shook. "You've got quite the grip, boy. For a Blitz member, that is."

Stick frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing much." Sir Morrigan smirked. "How's Sir Frost's hairline doing? Hohoho."

Before Stick could reply, another figure strode forward—a blue-eyed, blonde magician clad in pristine white robes. As he passed, he placed a hand on Leonhard's shoulder in a brief, wordless exchange before turning his gaze to Stick.

His expression hardened, shifting into something far more severe.

"Don't bother, I got this." His tone was almost casual—until, with explosive fury, he roared:

"Just what the fucking hell do you three idiots think you're doing?!"

The mage was suddenly in Stick's face, a vein popping on his choleric forehead. Stick swallowed hard. Shit.

"Is it really necessary to scream that loud, Dexter?" Sir Morrigan asked.

"Oh?" Dexter turned sharply. "Don't get me started on how bad you fucked up today!"

Panzer's knightly composure cracked. "Is that so?"

"You'd think one would get used to climbing out of countless ditches. But today? You were slower than a crippled tortoise!"

"You wanna go, pretty boy?" Panzer cracked his knuckles. "I can show you how much this armor weighs."

Dexter's lips curled. "You know, as a surgeon, I can name every bone of yours that I'll break."

Stick let out a small chuckle. He had seen something similar before—Cadmun and his squadmates, bickering like brothers. Not so much like knights, as their titles would suggest. It seemed that the chivalry of this world remained with those that lived without Player interference like Gawain. He chuckled again.

Both men snapped their heads toward him. "What's so funny?"

"Enough!" Leonhard's voice rang out.

Everyone immediately stood at attention.

"No more bickering. This isn't elementary school." Leonhard turned her gaze to Hirohiro. "And you. Stand up."

Hirohiro hesitated, but one glance at the ice in her eyes was enough to make him scramble to his feet.

Leonhard's attention snapped back to Stick. "Will somebody care to explain to me what an unaffiliated LVL 2 Player with no Origin is doing in the North Strip?"

"LVL 2?" Dexter repeated, blinking. He checked Stick's Status. "Jesus… How?"

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Sir Morrigan looked concerned. "LVL 2? That's… not good, right? Didn't you read the signs we put up, Page Arslan?"

Hirohiro raised his hands defensively. "They tend to… not get read by us. But please, we were just looking for goblin camps. We didn't mean any harm."

Dexter's expression darkened. "Goblin camps? In the North Strip?"

"As a Carnifex member, you should know better," Leonhard said sharply. "Or is there another reason you crossed the border?"

"Yeah, um…" Hirohiro hesitated. "It's not like we're spies or something…"

Stick squared his shoulders. "We are looking for Lord Alastair Blitz."

Hirohiro slapped his forehead. "You idiot…"

Dexter crossed his arms. "Lord Blitz?"

"You know him?" Stick asked, hopeful.

"Of course we know him," Sir Morrigan said, though his tone carried an edge.

"And do you know where he is?"

Leonhard didn't answer right away. There was something else in her eyes now—suspicion.

"The question is," she said coolly, "how do you know him? And why are you looking for him?"

Stick opened his mouth, but Hirohiro grabbed his sleeve in alarm.

"Stick, we should—" Hirohiro tried to say something, but was cut short when he saw something.

Stick followed his gaze—

And his stomach dropped.

Behind the trio, more of B4's warriors had gathered. Rows upon rows of soldiers, clad in varied but hardened armor, standing in perfect formation behind Leonhard. Their faces were obscured by stark white masks and eerie, glowing eyepatches. Their Status screens were mostly redacted, but one thing was clear. LVL 50. Every. Single. One of them.

The strongest warriors in the world.

The ones who had slain that minotaur-demon monster with ruthless efficiency.

So this… is B4.

Despite the sheer number of powerful warriors standing before him, Stick didn't falter. His voice was steady, even as his hands trembled.

"We need him to save our friends!"

Leonhard's sharp eyes studied him, unreadable. "And who would that be?"

Stick inhaled deeply, willing his voice to stay firm. "Carnifex has enslaved hundreds, maybe thousands. They live in inhumane conditions. That's not living—it's barely surviving. I know because I was one of them."

A flicker of something passed through Leonhard's gaze. "You were enslaved?"

Stick pointed to Big Man. "We both were. We were exploited, beaten, starved. I only escaped because they found out I'm a Player. The others weren't so lucky. They were NPCs. They stayed slaves." He clenched his fists. "And now, all they can do is wait. They're waiting for someone to save them. For Lord Alastair to save them."

Leonhard's gaze bore into him. "So, you're friends with those NPCs?" Her tone was curious, not mocking. "That's why you illegally entered the North Strip?"

Stick swallowed but nodded. "Yeah, but…" He hesitated, searching for the right words. "Please try to understand. We need to help them! If you have the slightest idea where he is, we need to know. His grandchildren are in danger!"

Sir Morrigan shifted uncomfortably, as if he wanted to speak but held his tongue, waiting for his leader's reaction.

Leonhard's expression remained unreadable. "That's your plan?"

"What?" Stick blinked in confusion.

"You think a LVL 40 NPC is enough to save them?" Her voice was cold, disappointed. "You trespassed on neutral ground with a Carnifex member and a chained slave, nearly caused an endgame raid to turn deadly for my guild—who are neutral to your conflict—so you could ask us where an NPC is?"

The weight of everyone's gaze pressed down on him. Stick squared his shoulders. "He's the greatest mage there is."

"For an NPC, maybe. But the Playerbase has evolved past that," Leonhard countered. "If you think that's all it takes to challenge Carnifex, then you're either insane or a fool."

"Then come with us!" Stick pleaded. "I saw how strong you are!"

Dexter scoffed. "Do you have any idea how fragile the ceasefire is? If B4 marches into Carnifex territory, it's war. Countless lives will be lost."

"But—"

"You should count yourself lucky we're ignoring this transgression," Leonhard said, pointing at Hirohiro. "You're too underleveled—and too stupid—to be Eastern spies."

"Stick, they're right," Hirohiro urged. "Let's just go."

He hated how powerless he felt. "No!"

Hirohiro grabbed his sleeve. "Stick, please."

Stick shook him off. "I said no!"

Dexter exhaled sharply. "Listen, kid. You survived the Mutant. You didn't start a goddamn war. You're getting off easy. Count your blessings and leave."

"I'm not leaving!" Stick squared his shoulders. "Not once did you deny knowing where Lord Alastair is. You know something."

Sir Morrigan sighed heavily.

"If there's something—anything—please tell us!" Stick begged.

Dexter lost his temper. "Listen here, you little—"

Big Man immediately stepped between them, fists raised. "We're not leaving until you tell us what you know."

Dexter scoffed. "A LVL 10 Berserker NPC is hardly an obstacle."

A spell began forming on his staff, but Sir Morrigan grabbed Dexter's wrist.

"What's your problem?" Dexter snapped.

Dexter hesitated, meeting the knight's gaze. He didn't need to answer.

After a moment, Dexter exhaled, loosening his stance. "You're right."

Big Man, too, stepped back.

Stick seized the moment. "Fine. If you won't help us, just tell us what you know, and we'll leave."

Leonhard's gaze was calculating. "And then what? You think you can take down Carnifex alone?"

"Someone has to if you won't," Stick shot back.

Dexter muttered under his breath, "This punk."

Sir Morrigan let out a quiet huff, almost amused.

Leonhard studied Stick. "There's more to this than you understand."

Stick's eyes flicked to the masked warriors of B4. "I can tell. Your entire guild hides behind masks."

Some of them shifted uncomfortably.

Leonhard hesitated. "It's complicated."

Stick's jaw tightened. "No. You're scared."

Leonhard's expression darkened.

"They have an army," Stick continued. "A navy. They're ruthless, efficient. It's terrifying. I'm scared too. People died, you know?"

Silence. The truth weighed heavy.

After a long pause, Leonhard asked, "Then how about you cross west? It's safer for you there."

Dexter stiffened. "Maria, what are you doing?"

Leonhard remained firm. "We can make an exception this once. He's LVL 2."

"If anyone finds out, Carnifex will come for us," Dexter warned. "And you know Xuang. He'd use this to wipe us out."

"The alternative is letting them get locked up again." She studied Big Man's and Stick's scars.

Hirohiro whispered, "This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance."

"No!" Stick's voice rose. "I told you, I'm done running!"

Leonhard turned to him, intrigued. "Excuse me?"

"Tell me what you know about Lord Blitz so I can leave," Stick demanded. "I have a quest to complete."

Leonhard's composure cracked. "A quest? At LVL 2?"

Her gaze scanned him again. Her lips moved, silent. Stick thought he read the word Unbound.

She took a breath, regaining her composure. "Lord Blitz…"

Stick's pulse hammered. Yeah? What about him?

Leonhard exhaled. "We can't tell you where he is."

"What?"

"No, seriously—we can't," Dexter said.

Stick's patience snapped. "Are you fucking with me?"

"He's alive," Sir Morrigan said softly. "That much we can tell you."

Stick's shoulders relaxed. "Thank the Gods…"

Dexter chuckled dryly. "The Gods?"

"Then why can't you tell us?" Hirohiro asked.

Leonhard crossed her arms. "It's a guild secret. For his sake. No outsiders, sorry."

Stick exhaled.

"At least we know," he muttered. "Can you at least relay a message?"

Leonhard hesitated. "Depends on the message."

"Tell him the twins are okay," Stick said. "But the Baron plans to take them out before their next birthday."

Leonhard's jaw tightened. "That's…" She shook her head. "Okay. I'll tell him."

"Thank you."

"We should go now." Hirohiro carefully chimed in.

"Yes," Dexter agreed. "We have wounded to take care of."

The B4 members turned north. Hirohiro and PP headed south.

Stick lingered. "One more thing."

Leonhard turned back. "What is it?"

"Tell him that Sir Moore fought to the end."

Sir Morrigan stiffened, his expression clouding. He turned away, his head bowed. Dexter laid a hand on his shoulder.

Leonhard nodded. "Understood. Anything else?"

Stick shook his head. "No."

Leonhard studied him. "Your name is Arslan?"

"Yeah. I picked it myself."

"You picked it?"

"Well," Stick lowered his gaze. "I don't remember anything from before the game. But the others told me about the Great Hero. And I…"

It felt stupid to admit it in front of such a strong warrior. He felt like an excitable child.

"You wanted to be like him?" she asked.

Stick blushed. "Uh, y-yeah…"

She took some time to answer.

"Me too."

Stick raised his head again. He saw Leonhard smile for the first time. He smiled back.

From the distance, Hirohiro called, "Stick, move it!"

Dexter's voice rang out. "Maria, are you coming?"

Leonhard and Stick exchanged a knowing look.

"Goodbye," Stick said.

"Until we meet again."

And with that, they parted ways.