Reborn As A Slave: The Fallen God's Revenge

Chapter 10

Edrick could not sleep.

For three nights in a row he had lain on the thin straw that served as his bed, staring at the same stone ceiling, listening to the snores of other slaves who had long since made their peace with exhaustion, and his eyes would not close.

His thoughts always returned to the same place.

Kayrus.

Edrick turned onto his side, facing the wall. The wounds on his back still stung when the rough fabric shifted against his skin, but the pain no longer felt important. There was something heavier than a physical wound that he carried with him wherever he went.

The guilt never left.

It only grew larger with each passing day, spreading quietly like roots splitting through stone, finding every gap inside a chest that was already too tired.

He was the one who had brought Kayrus to that cave. He was the one who had followed information that turned out to be wrong. He was the one who had been foolish enough to trust rumors he had picked up from a corner of the dining hall, from the whispers of other slaves who did not even truly know what they were talking about.

And Kayrus had borne all of it.

Kayrus, who had calmly said, just take me, and then stepped into that carriage without looking back. Without complaint. Without accusation. As if he had already been prepared to carry the consequences of someone else's mistake.

Edrick closed his eyes, but not to sleep. Only to escape the darkness of the ceiling that felt like it was pressing closer.

He remembered how Kayrus had first extended his hand, come with me, with a certainty in his gaze so complete that Edrick had almost believed they could truly succeed. He remembered how the man had spoken about freedom as though it were not merely an impossible dream, but something real and within reach if a person was brave enough to take the step.

Edrick had never found anyone like that before. In a place like this, courage was a scarce thing, quickly worn down by the whip and by hunger. But Kayrus, or whoever the man truly was, carried something inside him that was different. Something that could not be explained with simple words.

And now he did not know where that man was. Did not know whether he was still alive.

Edrick clenched his fist at his side.

*I have to know how he is.*

---

The following morning, as soon as the guards unlocked the barracks and drove the slaves out to begin work, Edrick did not head straight to his work area.

He approached one of the guards standing at the nearest post, a broad-shouldered man with a thick mustache and a gaze that had long since lost any trace of pity. The same guard who the week before had kicked one of the older slaves simply because the man had been walking too slowly.

Edrick lowered his head as far as he could. Lower than he usually did.

"Excuse me." He kept his voice as steady as possible. "I want to ask about a slave who was taken to the palace a few days ago. His name is Kayrus. Do you know how he is,"

CRACK.

The back of the guard's hand landed hard across Edrick's cheek before he could finish the sentence. His head snapped to the side, his right ear ringing.

"You insolent slave! Who gave you permission to speak to me?! Get to work before I count this as a violation!"

Edrick swallowed the sting in his cheek, a sting that radiated all the way to his jaw. He bowed his head lower, then stepped back without saying a word.

At midday, when the slaves were given a break to eat, Edrick looked for a different guard.

A younger one. One who occasionally seemed less eager than his counterparts, whose eyes sometimes appeared to drift far away while watching the slaves work, as though his thoughts were somewhere else entirely. Edrick had once seen this guard quietly share a leftover piece of bread with one of the older slaves who was too weak to collect his own ration, when no other guard was watching.

Maybe this man was different. Maybe this man still kept a little humanity tucked beneath his uniform and iron baton.

Edrick approached carefully, choosing a corner that was not too visible to the other guards.

"I'm sorry to bother you." He kept his voice as low as possible. "I only want to know about my friend. He was taken to King Libradon's palace a few days ago. His name is Kayrus. He's tall, his hair is,"

THUD.

The end of the iron baton drove hard into his stomach. Edrick doubled over, coughing, his knees nearly hitting the ground. The air left his lungs all at once and for several seconds he could not draw breath at all.

"You think I'm softer than the others?" The young guard scoffed, his voice no warmer than the stones beneath their feet. "Get out of here. Don't go asking about palace matters. That is none of your concern, and it never will be."

Edrick forced himself upright, one hand still pressed against his stomach, which felt as though it were burning from the inside.

He left, choosing to find someone else and not giving up.

---

That afternoon, while hauling large stones at the work site, Edrick thought hard.

The guards would not talk under threat. They would not talk in response to pleading either, pleading only invited blows and laughter. But perhaps there was another way. Perhaps there was something that could make one of them willing to open their mouth.

That night, Edrick tried a different approach.

There was an older guard stationed to watch the storage shed near the gate, a thin man whose knees appeared to cause him constant trouble, because he would rub them himself whenever he thought no one was watching. Edrick had once heard the guard complaining to a colleague about the cold of the nights, complaining about bones that were no longer as strong as they used to be.

The old guard did not seem cruel. Only tired.

Edrick set aside a small portion of his food ration, a hard piece of bread and a handful of boiled beans, wrapped it in a worn cloth, then approached the old guard with his head bowed and his steps deliberately slowed so as not to appear threatening.

"This is for you," Edrick said quietly, holding out the bundle. "Tonight is cold. I thought you might be able to use it."

The old guard looked at the bundle in Edrick's hand, then looked at Edrick's face with an expression that mixed suspicion and surprise. It was not common for a slave to come bearing food without reason.

"What do you want, slave?"

"I only want to know one thing." Edrick kept his voice from sounding like begging, though inside his chest he was already nearly on his knees. "My friend was taken to the palace a few days ago. His name is Kayrus. Tall, dark hair, hard eyes. Have you ever seen him? Do you know how he is now?"

The old guard was silent for quite a long time.

Long enough that Edrick began to think perhaps this man would answer. Perhaps this time someone would give him a real answer, one that did not come with a blow or a kick or a dismissive laugh.

But then the old guard looked up, and in his eyes Edrick found no mercy.

Only something colder than that night.

"Your friend?" The guard let out a short laugh, his voice rasping like wood dragged across wood. "The slave who was brought before King Libradon?" He threw the bundle of food back against Edrick's chest without hesitation. "Keep that. You'll need the strength to mourn his death."

Edrick went still. "What do you mean?"

"No one ever comes back after being taken there, fool." The guard turned away, no longer interested in continuing the conversation. "Not a single one. Libradon is not a king who likes giving second chances. Your friend is dead. Accept it and go to work before I report you."

The old guard's footsteps receded, leaving behind the sound of sandals dragging across the stony ground.

Edrick stood there long after that sound had disappeared.

The night wind blew hard, pressing through the gaps in the wooden barracks and striking his face, which felt numb. The bundle of food that had been thrown back at him was still in his hands without him realizing it, his fingers gripping the worn cloth tightly, more tightly than they needed to.

*Your friend is dead.*

The words echoed inside his head, bouncing from one side to the other without stopping.

Edrick lowered his head. His chest felt tight in a way that was different from usual, not tight from forced labor or from blows that had landed against his ribs. This was a tightness that went deeper. One that could not be eased by rest or by Ganggani oil.

But then he remembered something.

He remembered how Kayrus had stood before two armed guards and brought them both down in a matter of seconds with his bare hands, something that was not even rational for an ordinary slave to do, a man whose body had already been half broken by abuse. He remembered how Kayrus had stepped into that carriage with his back straight, his chin lifted, his eyes facing forward, as though he were not a slave being carried off to punishment but a commander heading into battle.

A man like that did not simply die.

A man like that could not be finished off by a whip and the throne of a king who liked to parade his power over the weak.

Edrick drew a long, slow breath, letting the cold of the night air fill his lungs until they ached, until his head was a little clearer.

All right.

If the guards would not talk, he would find another way. If the front door was shut tight, there had to be a back door not guarded as closely. If there was no door at all, he would find the crack in the wall, and he would widen that crack patiently, little by little, until it was large enough to pass through.

He had lived for years in this place relying on nothing more than what he could hear from the dark corners, from whispers caught by his ears when the guards assumed all the slaves were already too tired to listen. He knew how to gather information without appearing to gather it. He knew how to become invisible in a place where everyone was too occupied with their own arrogance.

And he would use it. Everything he knew, everything he had ever learned from years of surviving in this place, he would use it for one purpose.

Edrick lowered his head and looked at the bundle of food in his hands. He unwrapped it and ate the hard bread in silence, chewing slowly even though his throat felt reluctant to swallow, not because he was hungry, but because he knew he needed the strength. He would need a great deal of strength for what he was going to do next.

In the distance, the barracks bell rang, the signal for all slaves to return inside before the night guards began their rounds.

Edrick did not move yet.

He stood there one minute longer, staring at the high wall that separated the slave quarters from the palace complex, the wall he had only ever looked at from a distance without ever daring to think about what lay on the other side.

*Wait for me, Kayrus,* he thought. *I don't know how. I don't know how long it will take. But I won't stop.*

He turned and walked back to the barracks.