Capítulo 2: Chapter 2: To Live
Zenith wouldn't describe himself as someone who was desperate to live, but he was not so eager to die either. Zenith usually went with the flow and tried not to regret as much as he could.
His life was better than the original body owner (at least his whole family aren't slaves– oh wait, that is actually a low and dirty blow to the original, isn't it?), but on the standard of the 21st century, his life was a pretty ordinary one.
He was nothing special, that he could accept that as an adult, although the young him wanted to be the most special person ever, his now existential crisis started with transmigration and his first question was: Why me…?, and the second was: Was it a stroke of luck?
You see, he couldn't help but feel like there was something sinister going on behind his transmigration and he was wholeheartedly willingly to blame it on the crimson moon.
In the usual transmigration troupes, transmigrations were fun and all –just look at our blue and harmless slime– but the adult brain, paranoia, and his instinct trained by the various video games were all telling him one thing:
There is indeed something sinister going on. Be cautious and try to keep your life. Perhaps, you might even stumble upon the 'secret'.
(And how much danger does this 'secret' contain? He was- is… scared to find out. Was he this cowardly before? And shit, was he this paranoid before?)
(He may have the memories of the original. But… he doesn't know this world. In this unknown world he is unfamiliar with… He has no one he can trust.)
However, if that something sinister was indeed caused by some powerful eldritch being, and when the supernatural powers supposedly existed in this world, there was nothing he could do, right?
Right, he could not retaliate (yet, his mind adds), and he would only die (right now).
(Zenith knows and understands the reality. He knows that he is utterly powerless as he is right now. However, that doesn't mean he is willing to give up on revenge. He may not be able to do it now, however the same can't be said for the future.)
So, after mourning and blankly staring at the moss-covered wall and counting at the number of bacteria in the air while having an existential crisis, Zenith came to a conclusion, and it was to toss everything to the back of his mind, to gather information, and to grasp every opportunity available.
Of course, his short-term goal was to escape and it was not an option.
He does not want to be a slave his whole life, thank you.
After having a better grasp of himself, Zenith turned his attention to his cellmates.
The underground cells were for the slaves. He was not sure how many cells were there in total but each cell contained 4 slaves.
In some cells, there were infighting like some criminal movies, and some were pretty chill.
His cell was neither of those and it stuck out as an oddity. First of all, there was him, previously the Zenith who tried to escape, consequently got beaten to death and now, the transmigrator Zenith.
Second was that brat Alma Roffe, who from his perspective, was a snitch, and chased after the excitement all day. Heard that he got kidnapped by the slavery ring because he stuck his nose into a business he shouldn't. Worse of all, he did not regret it.
Third was a man in his early fifties. His name was Oleg but everyone called him 'Old man' because he looked old.
Fourth, a crazy man, a heretic who worshipped some evil God named 'Dark Side of the Universe'. How cringe, how chuunibyou. Zenith wondered if all the Gods in this world had no sense of naming. God, if there was an Evil God named 'The Fool' in this world, he was going to die laughing.
Speaking of the Gods and the religions, the only God publicly acknowledged as orthodox was the 'True Creator'. 'His' faith was mainly situated on the Northern continent.
And the rest were all unorthodox Gods and there were many of them, or so he had heard. In his memory, he only knew four evil Gods:
'The God of Death's' faith was spread throughout the Southern continent but the Northern continent did not acknowledge it. Of course, the Death's believers vehemently deny their God being an evil (unorthodox) God.
(Well, it is the same for all Evil Gods and 'Their' believers. However, The Southern continent's Solomon empire has more power and their official religion is the True Creator, and that is it.)
The second he knew was 'The Dark Side of the Universe' worshipped by the crazy man.
The third was 'The God of Knowledge and Wisdom'. From the name, there was nothing evil about this God but the True Creater's believers hated the God and 'His' church with passion.
The fourth and the last he knew was 'The Evernight Goddess'. This Goddess was mostly shrouded in mystery and if not for the fact that 'Her' church did not seem to get along with the Death's believers, he wouldn't have known of 'Her' existence.
Zenith then recalled more memories and slowly but surely collected himself.
The life of a slave was pretty simple as much as it was rough. When the radiant of the sun showed up on the sky, that one slave rang the gong and the rest of the slaves were required to get up at that time.
The slaves were then put into groups and were assigned tasks. There were temple slaves, gladiator slaves, household slaves, and some more slaves categorised.
This slavery ring had both kidnapped slaves like Alma and heredity slaves like Zenith. They bought slaves, sold slaves, and even rented slaves.
Before a slave was sold, he was pretty much the property of the slavery ring. The 'job' Zenith had always been assigned was to be a construction slave. It was a mostly simple but a heavy labour 'job' under the hot, blazing sun. But he was thankful that he was not at least a gladiator slave.
Around ten gladiator slaves died on or off the ring daily.
Other areas have temple slaves however, this slavery ring did not have them as no temples existed around here, although the majority worshipped the God of Death.
Perhaps, when these religions decided that they wanted a temple here, some of the existing slaves might become temple slaves.
Glancing at the very faint kerosene light, Zenith closed his eyes and prepared to sleep. Tomorrow, not counting today, would be the official first very day he spent on this world. From the memories, he knew that everyday will be a hard day from now on.
"Gong… gong… gong…" A sound of gong being rung came from the upper layer and travelled deep into the underground.
Zenith reopened his eyes. It was a mostly sleepless night with no dream. He looked around, saw his cellmates who occupied one corner of the wall each getting up, and he too prepared to get up.
The cells, doing a very bad job of mimicking the bedrooms, were opened one after another, and the slaves poured out from the underground.
Zenith was the last to get out of his cell and saw a man waiting for him near the staircase. He knew this man. His name was Belial. He paused for a second when he saw him and Belial, appearing very anxious, approached him instead.
"I heard that you got caught yesterday?" Belial whispered as soon as he was in front of Zenith, his tone was like that of a worried big brother. That couldn't be helped. After all, Belial, just like Zenith, was a hereditary slave and the two of them bonded with each other over that. "Did you get beaten up? Are you okay?"
Do I look like I'm okay?!? Zenith caught himself almost saying that. He decided to act like the original Zenith for extra safety.
(Every caution is an extra safety point in this world. After all, with this world having so many Gods and religions, who can say whether he will be burned as a devil or experimented on when his secret is out?)
Zenith meekly nodded his head and tried hard not to have eye contact with Belial's eyes.
Belial was a mixed blood and had both Southern and Northern heritage in his blood. He had light brown skin tone, jet black hair and green eyes. He was half a head taller than Zenith and was currently looking down on him in concern.
"I told you not to act rashly. Now, look at you, your whole body is covered in bruises," Belial held his shoulders and said sternly, "Look at me, Zenith."
Acting according to the memories, Zenith made a point to lower his head even more. And then his chin was grabbed upward and was forced into eye contact.
Belial looked into the pinkish-purple eyes and saw himself reflect on them. His heart was aching while he looked at the young boy he had been looking after covered in wounds.
He knew for a long time that this boy wanted to escape. He wanted to be freed. Belial knew that it wasn't possible. The slavery ring did not have any mercy for the escapees. They either caught them back before beating them up or killing them just for convenience. When the boy tried to escape for the first time, he had been so worried that it would be the latter.
He begged Xavier not to kill the boy and even suffered three days of no food. He was starved but was even more happy to find out that the boy hadn't been beat up.
Just yesterday, the boy tried to escape again. It was a pleasant surprise that he hadn't been killed and Belial was thanking the Gods for the mercy.
"Zenith," He called out again, "Don't try to escape again. I know that you want to be free… but it's dangerous. Trust me, next time you will be killed for sure. It was pure luck that you weren't killed this time."
He then made some tapping motion on his chest, "Thanks the Death for the mercy," he was a half-believer but he had a pious tone filled with gratitude when he said this.
Zenith thought darkly, oh no, it wasn't luck. You don't need to thank the Gods either. After all, the younger brother you knew and loved already has been beaten to death yesterday.
Belial saw Zenith's eyelashes trembling and his lips wobbling; he looked as if he was about to cry. And then, he heard him say: "I understand, brother Belial… I will try not to escape again."
Belial sighed, "You said the same thing the last time," He let go of his hand and said, "Let's go. The day is just starting. Come to me when you have a break. I have some herbs."
Zenith nodded, walked to where the construction slaves were, and thought, Is he one of the people who told Xavier about my escape yesterday? But he doesn't seem like that kind of person…
Memories were only memories and they did not even belong to him. Zenith steeled his heart. He was not willing to trust Belial unless something managed to change his mind.
Cross, the leader of the construction slaves, saw him and then took an extra glance. "...You are here?" He did not even sound sure of himself.
Zenith wanted to curl his lips and tell him that he was indeed here but he was in hell yesterday, but held back. From the memories, Cross was something of a good guy, at least better than the leader of gladiator slaves.
Resisting the urge to act out, he pressed his lips together and just nodded, while not looking at Cross' face.
"Right, okay, ahem," Cross cleared his throat, "Your task today is to carry those bricks to the Carrison Manor. After you finish, -and I presume that you will finish it after breakfast- you can take a break until the sun is not right in the middle of the sky anymore. After that help the group one with their work. That will be everything today."
Zenith tilted his head. Cross was being lenient and he understood why when the man was awkwardly eyeing his wounds. This man got a good man point in his book.
He bowed his head until his waist was bent and softly said a 'thank you'. That was not out of the line for the original Zenith.
Cross cleared his throat again, mumbled something under his breath with red ears and waved his hands, gesturing to him to go away.
Zenith bowed again, this time out of his own personality, and went on his merry way.
This world had clocks and their time but it was out of reach for the slaves. So, they could only say things like 'when the sun is right in the middle of the sky', 'after lunch', 'before the moon goes down', etc.
Roughly, the slaves had to wake up around 5 in the morning, breakfast at 9 am, a short break of 10 minutes at 12 pm, lunch at 2 pm, dinner at 7 pm, and went back to their cells around 10 pm.
Zenith eyed the tower of bricks -and mourned the modern days of no labour- and started carrying them to the Carrison Manor. The Manor was currently being built, rumour among the slaves had it being the possession of a noble man.
"Zenith, you are alive?" When he arrived at the Carrison Manor, the slaves who were working on the construction exclaimed.
Why again…? At this point, Zenith wanted to smile warily. Is it that surprising that I'm alive? Wait, it probably is.
Zenith gave a short nod again and briskly walked away as if running. At that moment, he became more aware of the cultural and world difference. He stopped for the second on the way and stared at the slowly ascending sun. At least, the sun is the same. He couldn't believe that him, who did not like the sun just yesterday's morning, found comfort in its existence.
He sighed again, started the process of carrying the bricks back and forth, and ignoring the ridicules, surprises, and questions of every colleague he met on the way.
When the break was finally on time, he went to search for Belial for his so-called herbs.
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