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 24
The God Mervous followed the guard without a word.The corridor they walked through was familiar — he'd memorized it without meaning to over the past few days, every turn and every shift in scent and every different pattern of light in each section. But this time the corridor felt different. Longer. Somehow narrower, even though its dimensions had to be the same.Or maybe it was just his mind making everything feel heavier than it should.The guard stopped in front of the main hall's door — a large door he'd passed through once before, on the first day he arrived at this palace with his hands forced behind his back and a prisoner's robe thrown at his feet. This time no one dragged him. This time he stood here on his own account, or at least on account of Libradon summoning him.The door opened.And the first thing he saw inside the hall was Teresa.The woman stood in the middle of the room — back straight, chin raised, in the manner of someone who wouldn't let her posture say more tha
Chapter 23
Libradon hadn't been awake long.Teresa knew that from the way her servants had startled when she asked for an immediate audience — from the way they exchanged glances with expressions that said this is unusual, this has never happened before without needing to say a single word. Teresa had never asked for an audience this early. Never come with steps this quick, with eyes this hard, at an hour when the sun hadn't even fully decided to rise.But they let her in.Of course they let her in.---Libradon was in his private chamber — not the great hall he usually used for formal audiences, but a smaller room where he ate breakfast and signed documents and did the things that needed no witnesses other than his closest servants.He was sitting with a cup of something steaming in his hand when Teresa entered — and one eyebrow rose slowly at the sight of his guest."Teresa." His tone hovered between surprise and amusement — a mix that was distinctly Libradon, one that never let anyone truly k
Chapter 22
"So will you free Edrick?"The question came out quietly — not demanding, not pleading. Just a question set carefully into the air, like someone who knew the answer could tip heavily either way and chose not to push it toward one.Teresa didn't answer right away.She still stood in the same spot, her eyes no longer on God Mervous but not fixed on anything specific either — at some point between the two of them, where there was nothing that needed to be seen, and precisely because of that, it was easier to think."It will be difficult," she said finally. Her voice was quiet, measured. "Asking something from Libradon always has a price." A brief pause. "And after I asked him to give you back — using what's left of his trust in me for something like that..." She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to.God Mervous watched her profile from the side."But it's not impossible," Teresa continued — not as comfort, but as a fact stated in the same tone she used for every other fact. Fla
Chapter 21
Teresa spoke in a flat, measured tone — her usual way of speaking, one that never gave more than necessary. But tonight her words were more than usual. About the corridor that smelled damp. About the cramped cell. About the thin man who tried to rise when the door opened and failed. About the wounds that were clear and deep even in such poor light.God Mervous listened without interrupting.Sitting on the edge of his bed with both hands on his knees, his eyes fixed on some nonspecific point on the floor, he absorbed every word Teresa said in a way that felt like someone weighing the burden of something he wasn't yet fully prepared to carry.Teresa told him how Edrick had asked about Kayrus, with eyes that still held hope even though his body barely had the strength to hold anything at all. How he closed his eyes upon hearing that Kayrus was fine, how a long breath came out of his cracked lips like something that had been held too long.How the man had said, I'm always fine in the end,
Chapter 20
Teresa didn't know why she was still standing there.Her feet should have carried her away by now — away from this corridor that smelled of damp air and rusted iron, away from the swaying lantern light and the shadows it cast on the stone walls. The sound of the guard's footsteps she'd heard earlier had faded, whether turning down another passage or heading back to their post. No one could see her here.This was her chance to leave without consequence.But her hand was already on the cold iron bars, and her eyes couldn't tear away from the body lying in the cell — from the slow, uneven rise and fall of that chest, from the wounds that were clear and deep even in this poor light.Teresa took a long breath.Then her hand moved to the cell key hanging on the wall — the guard who'd brought her here apparently hadn't been careful enough to take it with them. Or maybe they hadn't expected anyone to come down here at this hour.The key was heavy and rusted, creaking as she fit it into the loc
Chapter 19
The candle had long since gone out.But the darkness filling the room didn't put either of them to sleep — it only made them more aware of each other's presence on the two sides of the same room, at a distance not so far but that felt like a chasm with no bridge across it.Teresa was still sitting on the edge of her bed.Her mind wouldn't settle. Not because of the argument earlier — or not only because of that. Something kept nagging at the corner of her awareness, something that had been there long before tonight but tonight felt increasingly urgent to answer.That man.Kayrus — or whoever he actually was.Teresa had seen many slaves in her life in this palace. She'd seen men broken by a system that gave them no choices, whose eyes went hollow long before their bodies gave out. She'd also seen the stubborn ones, the rebellious ones, the ones who tried to survive by whatever means they could find.But none of them were like the man now sitting on the other side of her room.The way h
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