Bab 31: Classless
Lia froze, the small piece of bread trembling in her fingers. Her wide, hollow eyes darted to Ethan's face, wary and confused. It was as if she were trying to decipher his intentions, to determine if the question was some kind of test or trap.
Ethan noticed her hesitation and softened his tone, leaning forward slightly. "I'm not trying to force anything," he said quickly. "I just... I was curious. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine."
She swallowed hard, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out at first. Finally, her voice came, barely above a whisper, so soft that Ethan had to strain to hear it.
"No... Class."
Ethan blinked. "No class? You mean you did not go through the 'awakening'?"
Lia's trembling fingers tightened around the piece of bread, her knuckles whitening. She shook her head slowly, her gaze fixed on the floor as if the weight of her answer was too heavy to bear. "No... I never awakened," she whispered, her voice laced with shame and something deeper—resignation.
Ethan furrowed his brow. "Is that even possible?" Everything he had heard so far suggested that the awakening and the class system was an inevitability, something everyone went through at the age of eighteen. But here was Lia, a clear exception.
She nodded again, her posture shrinking as if expecting ridicule or scorn. "I-I was supposed to..." Her voice broke slightly, and she hesitated before continuing. "...but nothing happened. The gods did not accept me."
Ethan frowned. Then suddenly everything clicked. "Wait, none of the slaves are awakened? Nobody has a class?"
Lia weakly nodded.
"And the gods?" Ethan pressed gently, trying to piece it all together. "What does that have to do with it?"
Lia shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tightening around the remains of the bread. "The gods are the ones who... bless people with their class," she said hesitantly. "It's said that only those deemed worthy by the gods awaken. Those who don't are... abandoned."
Now Ethan understood what was happening. It looked like the people who did not awaken classes were captured and tortured and treated like shit.
The religious zealotry surrounding the class system made it even worse.
Ethan could imagine how those who didn't awaken were stigmatized, cast aside not just as failures but as people unworthy of divine favor. It was a convenient excuse for society to marginalize them—to exploit them without guilt.
Ethan leaned back, processing Lia's words. If this world truly believed that the gods themselves were responsible for determining who was "worthy," then the entire system was rooted in an ideology designed to maintain oppression.
Those who didn't awaken weren't just powerless; they were stripped of any chance to prove their worth. They weren't even allowed to take menial jobs and somehow survive. They were simply abandoned and taken advantage of in the worst ways possible.
"That's… twisted," Ethan muttered, his voice low. Lia flinched at his tone, and he quickly softened his expression. "Not you," he clarified. "This whole system. It's not right."
Lia hesitated, her eyes flicking up to meet his for the briefest moment before darting away again. "It's... how it's always been," she murmured, her voice tinged with resignation. "People like me... we don't matter."
"Well, that's bullshit," Ethan said firmly, leaning forward. "You matter. I don't care what anyone else says—or what the gods supposedly think. You're here, and that means something."
Lia stared at him, her expression unreadable. For a moment, Ethan thought he might have pushed too hard or given away something about him, but then her grip on the piece of bread loosened, and her shoulders seemed to relax just a little.
She didn't respond, but the faintest glimmer of something—hope?—flickered in her eyes.
Ethan let out a slow breath, leaning back in his chair. "Get some rest," he said softly. "Tomorrow, we'll figure out what comes next."
Lia hesitated for a moment, her gaze flitting to the bed before cautiously nodding. She placed the unfinished bread back on the plate and then stood up. The next second she started removing the tattered robe covering her body.
Ethan's eyes widened in alarm as she began to untie the cloth draped over her frail frame. "Whoa, whoa, whoa—stop!" he said, raising his hands in a panic.
Lia froze mid-motion, her trembling hands clutching the edge of the fabric. Her eyes darted to him, wide and frightened, like a cornered animal. "I-I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice barely audible. "I thought… isn't this… what you wanted?"
"No," Ethan said firmly, shaking his head. "That's not what I want. Lia, you don't have to do that. Ever."
She blinked at him, clearly confused, as if the idea was entirely foreign to her. "But… I'm supposed to…" Her voice faltered, and she looked away, shame coloring her cheeks. "That's what they always…"
"Not with me," Ethan interrupted gently but resolutely. "You're not 'supposed' to do anything. You're not a slave anymore, Lia. You're not property. I told you—you're free."
Hadiah
-- Hadiah diterima Status Power Mingguan
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Power 
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