I stumbled and fell, yet my body never made contact with the ground.
Instead, I experienced a sudden, intense pain as a chain tightened around my throat, coiling around my neck like a serpent constricting its prey.
"Son of a bitch!" a voice yelled from behind.
My eyes widened to their fullest extent and turned toward the source of the voice calling .
The voice belonged to a woman with a complexion as pale as that of a corpse. Her gaze pierced with eyes resembling a river of blood, marked by a dark circle at its center.
Her hands clutched firmly onto the chain linking my neck to hers, preventing the weight of my body from pulling us both down.
"What's the cause of these noises?" I heard the sound of a horse's footsteps drawing nearer.
"Slaves should not talk without permission." A whip snapped sharply through the air, and the lady trailing behind began to cough up blood.
The warmth of her blood seeped into my skin as it made contact with my neck.
At that mont, I realized how fucked I was.
A wave of nausea washed over as the truth hit with brutal force.
A few seconds ago, my stepsisters caught jerking off. And now, I am walking along the narrow edges of a mountain with chains shackled around my neck, my footsteps in sync with the rest of the slaves.
My limbs felt foreign, too long or too short.
The air was thick and heavy, tasting like volcanic ash. The gritty dust, combined with the slick sweat from our unwashed bodies, coated the back of my throat, making gag.
As we walked, the path snaked upwards, and Patches of stubborn, withered vegetation clung to life.
The other slaves clad in the sa roughspun rags moved with Shoulders slumped, heads bowed.
The mountain range was a series of jagged peaks, resembling the spiny backbone of a colossal, petrified creature.
***
After hours of walking along the edge of a mountain, I found myself standing in a line, my wrist restrained by a rope, with my gaze fixed upon the forest ahead.
A middle-aged man with deep purple hair and red eyes stood before us. His armor was shiny steel with wolf carvings.
"His novelty, lord Henry the Third, demands you to entertain him," the middle-aged man announced, gesturing towards a figure mounted on a horse behind us.
Lord Henry wore green and gold robes, with finely crafted arrows ready at his side.
He sat relaxed on his horse with a bow in his hand while fifteen ard guards stood still next to him, each holding a wolf with an iron chain.
"The ga is straightforward: when your na is called, you run, and his novelty will shoot an arrow at you. The ga continues until only one slave remains alive."
The armored knight spurred his horse forward with a firm kick, prompting it to begin walking.
He guided the horse with precision and proceeded along the orderly line of slaves.
He approached the first slave in the line and covered his eyes with a black scarf.
With a key, the knight unlocked the chain fastened around the slave's neck, separating him from us.
With a dagger scarcely larger than a table knife, the knight cut through the rope binding the slave's wrists.
"At the count of three, you shall run," the Knight instructed.
He pointed his sword forward towards a cluster of trees 100 ters away. The trees lood tall, with branches reaching into the dim sky like skeletal fingers.
"The Forest of Diva," the knight said, glancing at a crow perched on one of the branches. "It is strongly advised to avoid visiting that place; stop by the edge of the trees."
I inhaled the rusty air, burning my lungs in the process. The scene next to was like that of a movie.
The blindfolded slave trembled, his knees moving rhythmically as though he were straining to lift a heavy trailer with his hands.
A sense of numbness consud as I observed him. Should he be struck by the arrow, he will die, with only one individual separating us. My demise feels alarmingly close.
I lived a life as a loser, drowning myself in video gas and watching corn rather than making an effort to engage in aningful conversations with real individuals.
If God exists, he must harbor a deep disdain for . He gave a shitty life on earth, and when I thought I had a second chance, he threw into slavery.
Even worse, he threw to my death so that he could laugh at .
"One, two, three," the knight yelled.
I observed the first slave as he ran; standing rely four feet tall, his strides covered only a short distance.
Instinctively, I turned back and saw the noble smiling; he held his bow in his right hand and drew the arrow with the other.
As he released the bowstring, a sharp, piercing sound reverberated through the air, accompanied by an arrow tracing an arc.
My gaze followed the arrow as it traced a parabolic trajectory. The first slave stood no chance against it.
The arrow descended upon its target, and for the first ti in my existence, I bore witness to a murder.
The arrow struck the torso of the first slave, releasing a spray of dark blood that splattered the ground, forming a small pool around the lifeless figure.
The knight spurred his horse once more and approached the second slave. Using a key, he unfastened the chain securing the slave's neck.
With careful hands, he blindfolded the second slave using a black scarf and then severed the rope binding the slave's wrists.
The second slave's face twitched; he glanced at the corpse of the first slave and took a step back. His hand trembled violently as though he were holding a vibrating object.
"One, two, three," the knight shouted.
The second slave remained motionless; instead, he urinated on the spot.
The knight struck the slave with his foot and ordered, "Run!"
The slave fell into the black dirt. "I don't want to die," he pleaded.
The knight scowled, spurring his horse forward once more, advancing toward the slave.
"His novelty is losing patience; run or perish."
Instead of running toward the forest, the second slave ran westward, towards the setting sun.
"Feed him to my children," Lord Henry murmured.
At that mont, the guards encircling Lord Henry release the chains binding the wolves.
The wolves bore no resemblance to those found on Earth; each was the size of a donkey. They possessed striking green eyes and pristine white fur.
The second slave fled, striving to achieve freedom.
However, as soon as the chains fell to the ground, the wolves sprang toward the slave; within monts, they had encircled him.
I should not have looked, for the scene before was one of absolute terror.
The wolves devoured the slave thodically, leaving the earth drenched in his blood. Not a trace of his body remained.
The knight looked at , it was my turn to run toward the forest.
It was ti for my death to serve as a form of entertainnt for Lord Henry.
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