2026-02-02 13:40:17The faint murmur of voices pierced through the darkness, dragging a man's consciousness back from the void. He lay motionless on a wooden plank—bare, splintered, without even a thread of bedding to cushion his battered body.
The space around him was suffocating. Narrow. Cramped. Like a coffin.
"I thought he was dead," a gruff voice muttered nearby. "Looks like a damn mummy."
"You idiot! Can't you see his chest moving? He's breathing, moron."
"Who are you calling a moron?! You're dumber than a donkey. Whatever—just go fetch water from that basin over there."
"Look who's talking! You look more like a donkey than I do. Stop ordering me around like we're not equals!"
Grumbling under his breath, one of the men stomped away toward a stone basin in the corner. When he returned, he lifted the container high—and without warning, dumped the entire contents over the prone figure's body.
SPLASH!
"WHAT THE HELL?!"
The shock of icy water jolted the man awake. His eyes snapped open, fury blazing in their depths. His body was drenched, cold water pooling beneath him.
"How dare you scream at me, you worthless dog!"
A burly guard with an iron rod stepped forward, face twisted in rage. He loomed over the soaked man, his presence radiating menace.
But the man on the bed didn't flinch. He sat up slowly, water dripping from his hair, his gaze calm—dangerously calm—as if the guard's fury meant nothing.
"Who are you?" The words came out low, measured. God Mervous stared at the guard with the cold authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed.
The guard's face flushed red. "Who am I?! Who the hell are YOU to ask me that?!"
God Mervous returned the glare with equal intensity. This peasant dared speak to him this way? Unthinkable.
"Get me a whip, Dior," the guard barked to his companion. "This lazy bastard needs breakfast—my kind of breakfast."
The second guard nodded eagerly and rushed off.
"What nonsense are you spouting?" God Mervous' voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Do you have any idea who I am?"
The guard threw his head back and laughed. "You? Ha! I couldn't care less."
"I could destroy you where you stand!"
"Ooh, I'm terrified," the guard mocked, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Still dreaming, are we? Let me remind you of reality, boy. You're not some mighty warrior. You're a slave. Lower than dirt. A piece of property. So stop your delusions and remember your place."
God Mervous' mind reeled. Slave? The word was incomprehensible. Impossible.
"An uppity slave like you deserves punishment," the guard continued, sneering. "You're lazy, insolent, and clearly in need of correction. Today, you won't eat. You'll work until I'm satisfied—if I ever am."
Before God Mervous could respond, the other guard returned, whip in hand.
"Here, Commander!"
CRACK!
The whip sliced through the air as a test. Then, without hesitation, the guard brought it down on God Mervous.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Pain exploded across his back, his arms, his legs. God Mervous gritted his teeth, rage building with every strike. But his body—this weak, mortal body—wouldn't respond the way it should.
"That's what you get. Now get ready for a wonderful day of work." The guards laughed as they walked away, leaving God Mervous trembling with pain and fury.
A moment later, footsteps approached. A thin man with kind eyes crept into the cramped space.
"You're always like this," the man said softly, shaking his head. "I told you—the guards here are brutal. We have to wake up before dawn and get straight to work, or they make us suffer for it."
God Mervous turned his gaze to the stranger. "Who are you?"
The man chuckled sadly. "I'm Edrick. I've told you this a dozen times already, Kayrus. You must've hit your head harder than I thought." He pulled out a handful of crushed leaves from his pocket. "Here. Press these against your wounds. They'll help with the pain."
As Edrick stood to leave, he paused. "We should get moving. There's work to do, Kayrus. Don't make them angrier."
Kayrus.
The name echoed in God Mervous' mind like a death knell.
That's when the truth hit him.
He wasn't in his own body anymore.
He was trapped in the flesh of this weak, broken young man—a slave named Kayrus.
"Hey! Don't just sit there daydreaming!" Edrick called from the doorway. "Get dressed and get out there before they come back."
Left alone, God Mervous stared down at his hands—thin, scarred, powerless. He pressed the leaves against his wounds, and to his surprise, the pain began to fade.
But the greater pain—the realization of what had happened to him—only deepened.
Before he could process it all, a booming voice echoed through the corridor.
"HEY! KAYRUS! WHERE ARE YOU, YOU LAZY SLAVE?!"
God Mervous grabbed the only dry tunic hanging on the wall and stumbled out of the room.
"There you are! Get over here!"
The same guard from earlier pointed toward a filthy latrine at the end of the hall. "Clean this toilet. Every speck of filth. Every. Single. One. Or you'll regret it."
At the far end of the corridor, Edrick stood watching. He gave a subtle nod—Do as they say. Don't resist.
Reluctantly, God Mervous picked up a brush and bucket. Around him, other slaves worked in silence, their eyes hollow, their movements mechanical. They were broken. Beaten into submission.
Some bore fresh bruises. Others had scars that told stories of years of torment.
"Who are these people?" God Mervous thought, his grip tightening on the brush. "Where am I? And why is this happening?"
He tried to clean, but his mind was elsewhere—racing through possibilities, seeking answers.
"What about the new guy?"
The guards had gathered nearby, watching him with cruel amusement.
"Not bad. We can have some fun with this one."
They laughed, and God Mervous felt his blood boil.
But he forced himself to stay calm. He needed information. He needed to understand this nightmare before he could escape it.
Until—
CRASH!
One of the guards kicked the bucket from his hands, spilling water everywhere.
"You useless piece of trash! Is this how you clean?! Looks like you need another lesson. Boys, teach him."
God Mervous was yanked to his feet. Fists rained down on him. Boots slammed into his ribs. The whip cracked against his back again and again.
Pain. Humiliation. Rage.
"ENOUGH!" God Mervous roared.
The entire corridor fell silent.
Every slave, every guard—everyone froze.
No one had ever heard a slave speak like that.
"How dare you!" one guard snarled. "You're just a slave! Know your place!"
But God Mervous didn't care. His eyes burned with defiance. "I said ENOUGH."
The other slaves stared in shock. This wasn't the Kayrus they knew. This was someone—something—else entirely.
"Still giving us that look?" The guard raised his whip again. "Feel this—"
"Stop," God Mervous said, voice deadly calm. "Or you will know consequences beyond your comprehension. You've crossed the line. I will never forgive this."
The guards hesitated, confused.
"I will destroy you all."
God Mervous raised his hand, fury coursing through him. He reached for his power—the devastating flames that had once reduced armies to ash.
But nothing happened.
No fire. No light. No power.
Only silence.
The guards burst into laughter.
"Lost in your fantasies, boy?!"
CRACK! THUD!
The whip came down harder than ever. Fists followed. Boots crushed him into the stone floor.
And God Mervous—once the most feared deity in existence—could do nothing but endure.
For the first time in his eternal life, he was truly powerless.
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Chapter 17
God Mervous didn't go back to his bed.He stood in the same spot since the sound of the guards' footsteps had faded away at the end of the corridor, in the middle of the room, in darkness pierced only by one small candle whose flame was almost gone, his hands still clenched at his sides.His thoughts spun.He tried to convince himself once more. That voice could belong to anyone. There were hundreds of slaves in this complex, maybe more. There was no strong enough reason to immediately conclude that the person just dragged off by three guards in that corridor was Edrick, the thin man with kind eyes who smuggled apples in a worn cloth and said hang in there like it was the only thing he knew.But that name.Kayrus.Of all the names someone searching for a friend in the middle of the night, in a corridor he had no business entering, could have said, that was the one that came out.God Mervous walked toward the window, looking out. The night sky was still the same, indifferent stars, an
Chapter 16
Edrick didn't sleep again that night.Not because his mind was too busy like the nights before, this time it was different. This time there was something concrete he was holding onto, something real and something he could aim for. No longer just a resolve floating without direction.The last room at the end of the south corridor.Those words were driven into his mind like a nail into wood. Every time he tried to redirect his thoughts, the words pulled him back, patiently, stubbornly, in a way that gave him no choice but to keep thinking about them.But alongside that, doubt didn't leave either.That guard, the young man with unreadable eyes, could have been baiting him. Giving information specific enough to sound convincing, easy enough to follow, then waiting around the corner to catch him showing up in the wrong place with intentions he couldn't explain.That was the most logical thing for someone to do if they wanted to trap a slave who had repeatedly behaved suspiciously.But then
Chapter 15
Edrick didn't sleep well that night.Every time his eyes were about to close, the sound came back — a fragment of voice from behind a door in the quiet corridor of the east wing, low and measured, familiar in a way he couldn't just brush off. He turned over on the straw, facing the wall, facing the ceiling, then facing the wall again.Around him, the other slaves slept the deep sleep that only belongs to people too exhausted to dream.Edrick wasn't that lucky.By the time dawn began seeping through the gaps in the barrack's wooden walls, Edrick was already sitting up. His eyes were heavy, but his head was too busy to let his body rest any longer.He didn't regret going yesterday. But he knew he had to be more careful. More patient. More deliberate.The problem was he didn't know where to start.The day unfolded like any other on the surface — the slaves woken, marched out, directed to their work areas with orders that never changed in tone. Edrick lifted stones, moved timber, cleared
Chapter 14
Edrick had made his decision.It wasn't a decision that came suddenly — not like lightning striking in a clear sky. The decision had come slowly, dripping little by little over the past several days, like water seeping through cracks in stone until the drops finally accumulated enough to fill a pool.Asking the guards hadn't worked. Bribery hadn't worked. Begging hadn't worked.So he would do it himself. His own way.---The opportunity came on the fourth day after he'd made that decision, a day when the slaves' work schedule was changed because a large shipment of building materials had to be unloaded on the west side of the compound. All the guards were redirected there, leaving several watch posts on the east side with unusual gaps.Edrick had noticed it since morning.He worked with his head down and his body moving like a machine, lifting, moving, lifting again, while his eyes kept scanning. The pattern of guard rotations. The corners invisible from any watch post. The gap betwee
Chapter 13
Libradon had never visited Teresa's room without a clear reason.Not because he lacked the right, this was his palace, every corner and every room belonged to him, including the room he had allowed Teresa to occupy since many years ago. But there was an unwritten boundary between them that had formed not from rules, but from a habit maintained so long it had come to feel like an agreement. Teresa did not enter his study without an invitation. He did not enter her room without a purpose that could be stated plainly.This morning, he broke that.He walked along the corridor of the east wing with steps he kept looking unhurried, not rushed, not like someone who had been thinking about this since before dawn and had only found sufficient reason somewhere between his first sips of wine. Two guards followed behind at a comfortable distance. As usual. As though this were a visit he had not planned at all.Libradon stopped before Teresa's door.Through the wood that had not been fully shut, h
Chapter 12
That morning, for the first time since he had woken in this room, God Mervous tried to sit up.Not because he felt sufficiently recovered. Far from it. This body still felt like ruins that had not yet finished collapsing, every small movement reminding him of wounds that had not closed, every deep breath feeling as though something was gripping from inside his ribs and refusing to let go. But lying still without doing anything was beginning to feel more torturous than the pain itself. He had spent too long on his back staring at the ceiling, letting his thoughts circle the same place without going anywhere.*Enough.* He pushed his body slowly upward, bracing on his right elbow. The muscles along his back protested immediately, a sharp pulse radiating from his left shoulder down beneath his shoulder blade, making him stop for several seconds, waiting for the sensation to ease slightly before continuing.Finally he managed to sit upright, his back resting against the cold wall behind th
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