2 Near death

'' Urgh! ''

A weak grunt escaped Jerouch's mouth as the thick wooden club struck his stomach.

His hands were tied on two separate poles which were a couple of meters apart, and his body was left hanging in mid-air.

Blood trickled from both corners of his mouth, and his grey robe was stained with dried blood.

The hot wind blew his dishevelled platinum hair as he looked downwards to avoid the fierce sunlight.

He had been in this state since three days ago when he was caught by the head guard of the slave house.

Whenever a slave was caught trying to run away, they would tie them to this particular pole, torture them, starve them and watch as life slowly left their body.

This was done in other to instil fear in the other slaves. If not, with the hundreds of slaves here, many could go rogue.

'' You seem quite tough for your age. '' The guard in charge of the torture laughed as he struck the club on his thighs.

The guard wore rusty armour just like the other guards here, and each strike that landed on Jerouch made his inside churn with happiness.

'' patt! ''

A thick spit landed on the guard's brown forehead, and his face contorted in fury and disgust.

'' Bam! ''

A heavy slap landed on Jerouch's right face, which was wholly covered with an old burnt mark.

His eyes started twinkling and his ears buzzed.

' These fuckers. ' he gritted his teeth as he endured the excruciating pain.

'' I swear I will screw your mother. '' The guard roared as he saw the mocking looks that the other guards gave him.

Even though all the slaves were made to watch this kind of event, none of them dared to look at him mockingly.

However, he knew they were also gleeful inside, which worsened his exasperation.

'' Well, you will be saving me more energy, hehe. '' Jerouch replied with a weak smirk. He raised his head, giving the guard a dark stare.

Since these people would kill him anyway, he would gladly use the little time he had to annoy them down to their bones.

Actually, tortures like these were common occurrences for Jerouch.

His life had always been full of miseries since he transmigrated to this world.

He was reborn as the child of a noble in a city neighbouring the imperial capital.

He retained all the memories of his life on Earth. And he had great anticipation for this world when he found out that it was a world where magic was the foundation.

He found out that this world not only featured the medieval era, but also sophisticated magic technology.

Being a transmigrator, he was optimistic to become some sort of protagonist with unparallel magic powers that would make him walk the path of the strongest warlock.

However, fantasies were sweet but the reality was full of grief and bitterness.

His parents at first, had high hopes for him as he showcased his bright head that wasn't expected of a kid.

Soon enough though, they soon realized that he had no talent for magic.

It wasn't just poor talent, it was zero talent for magic.

Life turned in a one-eighty degree for him at the age of seven when his younger brother who was just five was admitted to the imperial warlocks' academy on scholarship due to his astounding talents for magic.

Before, his brother used to stand against his parents to not maltreat him but with his departure, starvation and heavy beating were the least of the maltreatments that he was subjected to.

'' A kid with no magic? What would be your use in the future? ''

The shrill voice of his mother would enter his ears whenever she sighted him.

As for his father, he didn't give a damn about one random child that had no talent for magic.

Even if it was the two kids who had no talent, so what?

He was a well-to-do noble in his forties, and he could get any lady to bear his seedlings if he wanted.

That pressure too was constantly mounting on his wife, which spiked up her hate for Jerouch.

Things went worst for Jerouch though when his brother came back home during his second year in the academy.

During his first year's holiday, Jerouch had noticed that his younger brother acted distant to him, but he still wasn't mistreated.

However, it didn't remain like that when he came back home for his second year's holiday.

Torture!!!

That was what his life revolved around.

His younger brother used him as a sparring partner to practice magic. And whenever he was injured, an evil grin and dead expression would appear on his face.

Jerouch might have the mind of an adult, but he was still in the body of a kid, and those pains were nightmarish for him.

The last day for him in that house was the day half of his face got burnt. His brother had called him as usual that he wanted to spar with him.

He was enduring the beatings like he had been doing until he cast a high-class fire spell that charred his face.

He straight away passed out due to the heat stroke and from there, he was sold to the slave merchants at the age of nine.

As for his life in the slave house, it didn't get better, it could only worsen.

They only ate dried bread or nut once a day, and the only water supply was filled with mud and excrement.

Here, the male slaves had to do hard labours such as mining, breaking rocks, and dragging wild animals.

The female slaves were usually taken as toys for the guards, and the beautiful ones were sometimes sold to brothels.

' Just what fate is this? ' Jerouch couldn't help but wonder as another strike woke him from his reminiscence.

' I was betrayed by my brother in my past life, but here is even worse. ' his teeth cracked against each other.

' I want to rip these fuckers apart. ' His face turned grim as he felt an intense urge to reduce these people to dust.

[The first requirement made, initialization in progress…]