In hindsight, I really should have read that pamphlet more carefully.
Two years later, deep in this lightless Labyrinth, I recalled the elf's words unbidden. Salvation… a new world… Long live Chaos… It all sounded absurd, and yet there was no denying one thing: that encounter was the catalyst that landed me in this cursed situation.
I exhaled shaky and muttered under my breath, "Long live Chaos."
At once, ghostly letters flickered into view before my eyes – an invisible script only I could see, hovering in the darkness:
makefile
❰Status❱
Name: Lucian Blackthorn
Level: 7
Strength: 2 Agility: 2 Stamina: 3 Essence: 137 Status: ❰Medusa's Curse❱
"Hah… haha… damn it all," I laughed bitterly at the sight of those pitiful numbers. A surge of hopelessness and grim irony welled up in me. I honestly was royally screwed, wasn't I?
It has taken me two whole years toaccepth my fate. Two years, roughly seven hundred and thirty days by my best reckoning. Enough time for a newborn babe to learn to walk and speak a few words. Enough time for a fresh-faced recruit to become a battle-hardened soldier. More than enough time for a man lost in a strange, deadly world to be utterly changed by the struggle to survive.
"What are you cackling about, Lucian? Have you finally gone mad? And what in all the hells is this 'chaos' you keep blathering about?"
A sharp smack to the back of my head jolted me out of my thoughts. I nearly bit my tongue as I stumbled forward, the status screen vanishing from sight. Once again, I became aware of my surroundings: the oppressive dark of the endless stone corridors, the damp chill in the stale air. Helior's light could never reach us down here in theearth's bowelsh, and the only sounds were our footfalls and distant dripping water.
I turned to find Elfriede glaring at me, torch in one hand and the other still raised from cuffing me. In the flickering glow, her elegant face twisted into an annoyed scowl that could curdle milk. I resisted the urge to rub the growing bump on my head and bowed apologetically.
"S-sorry, Mistress," I mumbled. "I'll pay attention."
Elfriede narrowed her ruby-red eyes. "See that you do. If you let your guard down in the Labyrinth, you'll die before realizing what's killed you." Her voice was cold and haughty as ever.
"Yes, Mistress Elfriede. I'll be careful," I recited. I had learned long ago that arguing or hinting at sarcasm would only give me another whipping.
She sniffed and tossed a lock of silver hair over her shoulder. "We're stopping here for the day," she declared. "Make camp immediately. And when you're finished, rub my legs and shoulders. I'm exhausted from all this walking."
"…Yes, ma'am," I replied through clenched teeth. Without another word, I swung off my heavy pack and got to work.
Elfriede watched me for a moment longer, her cat-like eyes ensuring I jumped to the task. Then she wandered off to scout the perimeter of our little clearing. I suppressed a sigh and focused on the routine: unpack the tents, drive the stakes, unroll the bedding, and build a fire. My body moved on instinct despite its aches and bruises.
Elfriede and the other two adventurers in our party – a pair of bickering human mercenaries – certainly weren't about to help with menial labor. Why would they? That's what I was here for. I was the hired mule, the camp servant… in truth, I was little more than a slave.
Yes, a slave. The word still made my stomach twist in humiliation, but I had to face facts. In this world, I had no rights or say in my fate. I was an outsider with no official identity, "owned" by Elfriede's adventuring company and forced to work under inhumane conditions. Concepts like a fair wage or basic decency didn't extend to people like me. I was an expendable tool, to be used and tossed aside at their whim.
Like a stray dog who'd been collared, I had struggled at first–oh, how I struggled–but after two years of barbaric reality, I had learned to play the obedient pet. It was that or die.
"Gods, you're slow!" Elfriede's impatient call cut through the darkness. She stood tapping her foot as I fumbled with one of the tent ropes. "Will it take you all night to set up one tent? Do you want me to fetch my whip? Look, that side is sagging – fix it, you useless oaf!"
"I-I'll fix it!" I yelped. Biting my tongue, I hastened to adjust the loose rope, hammering the stake deeper into the ground. My hands were trembling from exhaustion, and sure enough, the mallet slipped and the tent pole tilted.
Elfriede hissed in frustration. In two swift stride,s she closed the distance between us. "Move aside," she snapped. I stumbled back just as she lashed out with her coiled whip.
CRACK!
"Agh–!" I couldn't hold back a cry as pain exploded across my back. The first blow was quickly followed by a second, and a third – each strike precise and relentless, like she was beating a dusty rug.
I dropped to one knee, stifling a groan. The cuts burned like fire, but I gritted my teeth hard. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of hearing me scream. Not tonight.
After half a dozen lashes, Elfriede finally lowered her arm. "Pathetic," she muttered. "That was barely a warm-up. If a few snaps of the whip are too much for you, perhaps we should leave you here for the goblins."
I hung my head, breaths coming in ragged gasps. Fresh blood trickled under my tunic, joining the tapestry of scars on my back. But even as my body howled in agony, a curious sense of resolve filled me. This beating… I could endure it. In fact, I could endure anything for just one more day.
Because hidden inside my jacket, wrapped in a scrap of cloth, was the reason all this suffering would soon end. With every breath, I felt its slight weight against my chest: a pouch containing thirty silver coins.
"Enough," Elfriede said, sounding almost bored as she watched me tremble. "Just get the tent up properly, unless you want another round."
"Yes… Yes, Mistress," I answered quickly. With renewed determination, I finished pitching the tent, making certain every rope was taut, every stake secure, and then laid out Elfriede's bedding inside. A threadbare wool blanket and a rolled mattress of straw: luxury accommodations by adventuring standards. I smoothed it out neatly.
Remarkably, she said nothing more, which I took as a sign that she was satisfied for now.
I stepped out of the tent and allowed myself a moment to gently touch the coin pouch hidden in the lining of my jacket. Just a little longer… I thought, fighting to keep the corners of my mouth from turning up. Thirty silvers coins was a fortune for someone like me. It was the total of a year and a half of scrimping and saving – of taking the tiniest portion of the party's earnings that they tossed my way and hiding it diligently, even going hungry some nights to save a few extra coppers.
Thirty silver coins were enough to change my life. With that kind of money, I could buy a hundred bowls of hot stew, a small plot of land, or… most importantly, the freedom of one penniless black-haired slave.
A quick-witted observer would have guessed my plan by now. The moment we got out of this Labyrinth and back to town, I was going to buy my freedom from Elfriede's guild. Then I'd be done with this wretched life of servitude for good. With the money I'd saved, I could pay off my bond, tear up my contract, and walk away a free man. After that, I'd sign up as an adventurer on my own terms – start at the bottom rung, perhaps, but with hard work, I could climb. And when I earned a proper rank, I'd be granted legal status as a citizen of this kingdom. No more slave's collar, no more slurs like "savage" or "Samaritan" muttered at my back. I would be my own man again.
I allowed myself to imagine it: slapping the signed manumission papers down on the guild counter, walking out of the slaver's den a free man, and never again having to answer to "boy" or "slave" or "Samaritan" as they liked to call me. Perhaps I'd even rub it in Elfriede's face – though only after I was safely out of whip range.
Lost in that sweet fantasy, I hadn't noticed Elfriede standing behind me at the tent's entrance. "You're daydreaming again," she said sharply. "Do I need to fetch my whip again?"
"N-No, Mistress! All done here," I yelped, stepping aside to show her the fully assembled tent and bedding.
The tall elf inspected my work with a critical eye. She ran a finger along the neatly tied knots and gave a small nod of approval. "Hmm. Not bad. You're finally coming to your senses, are you? A bit of whipping does wonders for discipline." She stretched her arms over her head, then fixed me with a stern glare. "Now, don't forget – once you finish with the others, you owe me a leg and shoulder massage."
"Of course." I lowered my eyes submissively. Inside, I seethed at her laziness, but I dared not let it show on my face.
Elfriede held my gaze a moment longer, as if trying to detect any hint of rebellion. I kept my expression as neutral – nay, as idiotic – as possible. After a few seconds, she smirked and finally ducked into her tent, presumably to rest.
I exhaled in relief. That was close. Elves had uncanny intuition; Elfriede, in particular, could practically smell insolence. I'd learned not even to think insulting thoughts when within a dozen paces of her, lest she sense it and make me pay.
Shaking off the tension, I got back to work. There were three more bedrolls to lay out for the rest of the party, plus a fire to get going and supper to prepare. My hands moved automatically, gathering kindling, arranging the other blankets inside tents for the two human warriors and the dwarf cleric who made up the remainder of our group. By the time I coaxed the fire to life with a few sparks and a bundle of dry moss, my body was aching and sweat dripped from my brow – but camp was finally complete.
Night – not that the word "night" had much meaning down here – had settled upon the Labyrinth. In the orange glow of our little campfire, the damp walls of the cavern flickered with dancing shadows. I took a moment to drink from my canteen, savoring a single mouthful of water.
"Lucian! Get over here and massage my shoulders. Now." Elfriede's sharp order sliced through the silence.
I set the canteen down and hurried to her tent. Inside, Elfriede sat on her bedroll, her back turned expectantly toward me. She had shed the top half of her leather armor, remaining in a light linen tunic. Even through the fabric, I could see the taut lines of her muscles – adventuring was physically taxing for everyone, not just the poor porter.
I knelt behind her and placed my hands on her shoulders, beginning to knead gently. Her silver hair, slightly damp with sweat, brushed against my fingers. "Harder," she demanded. "My shoulders ache from carrying our gear. Even whipping you all day has tired out my arms."
I bit my tongue at that blatant lie – I had carried nearly all the gear, of course – and increased the pressure of my massage. My thumbs worked into the knots just beneath her shoulder blades, years of practice guiding my motions.
Elfriede let out a low sigh of pleasure. "Mmm. Yes, right there… At least you're good for something, I'll grant you that. Are all your people so handy with their fingers?"
By "your people," she meant Samaritans – the derogatory term used in these parts for those with black hair and eyes like mine. In this world, those features were rare, found mostly among a nomadic tribe far to the south. The locals viewed Samaritans as barely civilized barbarians, prone to howling at the moon and dancing around bonfires – that sort of nonsense.
I wouldn't know how true those tales were. I wasn't raised among any tribe, having lived in the kingdom since infancy. But trying to explain that to someone like Elfriede was pointless. To her, I was just a "savage" who happened to be useful as a pack animal.
"I…I wouldn't know, Mistress," I answered softly. "I haven't met many others like me."
"Hmph." She rolled her neck as I continued to work on her sore muscles. "Well, consider yourself lucky I found a use for you. A stray Samaritan with no master? You'd have been someone's chew toy by now if not for me."
Her words were as sharp as her whip, but I held my tongue. There was no sense arguing – not when freedom was so nearly within reach. So I only nodded and kept massaging, pouring my remaining strength into the task. In my mind, I repeated the same mantra I'd clung to through every hardship of the past two years:
Endure today. Just get through today. Because by the grace of the gods, if all went according to plan… everything would change tomorrow.
I allowed myself the smallest of smiles in the darkness behind her back, imagining once more the glorious moment I'd finally tear up that damned slave contract right in front of Elfriede's arrogant face.