I stood from the wooden bed, the stiff boards creaking beneath my weight. Morning light leaked through the cracks in the walls, painting thin lines across the dirt floor. The air was cold and smelled faintly of smoke and sweat, the scent of a place that never really slept.
"ALL OF YOU, WAKE UP!"
The same voice every morning. The guard's voice was coarse and raw, like gravel being crushed under a boot. His name was Dreg. He never spoke in a normal tone, only yelled. Maybe he thought yelling made him more of a man. Or maybe he just liked reminding us that we weren't free.
I've been a slave for some time now. Months, though it feels like years. My village was raided, burned to ash while I ran through smoke thick enough to choke on. They killed everyone. My mother, my brother, even the old man who used to fix the carts. I remember the smell of the fire more than their faces now. When it ended, I was dragged here, to a place made for people like me. The unwanted. The survivors.
Our world is split between six nations. I used to think they were all different, but they share the same sickness. There's a nation called Valren, a place people like to say is full of freedom and choice. But every story of freedom has its cracks, and Valren's are deep. Their people still live under rules written by men too rich to follow them.
Further south lies Karaal, a wasteland of heat and dust. The desert there stretches farther than the eye can see, filled with gangs and smugglers who run their own twisted kind of law. Yet, somehow, they keep order. It's chaos that knows its boundaries.
Far above the clouds, beyond the mountain walls, there is Haenra. No one truly knows what happens there. The people live in high stone cities built into the cliffs, cold and unreachable. But even they send soldiers to fight in the war. Even they bleed.
To the north, where the snow never melts, there is Yunoha. Their armies are feared across the lands. While the rest of us crumble, they rise. They are said to be winning the war, pushing through the borders with blades of frost and hearts of stone.
And then there is Asuha, the place I was born. A nation that fights its own people and calls it order. A land built on pride and greed, where those who hold power care only to keep it. The war may be fought across borders, but here, the battle is in our streets, our homes, our hearts. It's corruption that breathes.
"Move it, boy."
Dreg's hand clamped around my arm, dragging me out of the room like I was another sack of grain. His grip hurt, but I didn't react. You learn not to. The others were already moving, heads low, their feet dragging through the dirt. The iron gates creaked open, and we stepped into the morning.
The fields stretched endlessly ahead. Rows of green glistening with dew, the same sight every day. We worked to grow crops that none of us would ever eat. Food for soldiers, for nobles, for everyone but us.
Beside me was Ren, tall and quiet, with a scar cutting down the side of his cheek. He used to be a hunter in the forests of Karaal before the gangs burned his village. He told me once that he can still smell the smoke in his sleep.
Next to him was Lira, a woman from Yunoha. Her skin was pale and cracked, and her hands were always trembling. She said she once lived in a place where snow covered everything, even the graves. When she talked about home, her eyes would drift somewhere far away, like she was looking at something that no longer existed.
Then there was Bekk, broad-shouldered and loud when the guards weren't listening. He came from Valren, or so he claimed. Used to be a builder. Now he digs in the dirt. He tells stories about the cities there, how they say everyone has a voice. But his laughter always fades before he finishes.
We all had something taken from us. Some more than others. But recently, there was someone new among us.
A boy.
He worked at the far edge of the field, never talking, never looking at anyone. His name was Zero. That's all we knew. His face was blank, his eyes dark. He didn't seem afraid, just… quiet. As if the noise of this world didn't reach him.
No one knew where he came from. The guards didn't talk about him, and he didn't talk to us. But there was something strange about him. He didn't move like the rest of us, didn't carry the same weight in his eyes. He was calm. Too calm for someone trapped here.
The day dragged on beneath the heat, the kind that made the air shimmer above the fields. The soil was dry and rough between my fingers, and the tools we used were dull, worn from years of work and neglect. Every swing of the hoe, every pull of the weeds, was a rhythm we all knew by heart. The guards watched from the shade, their eyes half open, hands on their spears but too lazy to care unless we gave them a reason to.
Ren worked beside me, his back bent low. Sweat rolled down his neck and soaked the collar of his shirt. "If this heat keeps up, I'll end up turning into dust before the sun sets," he muttered.
Bekk laughed, low and rough. "You'd still be worth more than these crops. At least dust don't talk back."
Lira gave him a tired smile. "You never stop talking though."
The sound of their voices made the work bearable. It reminded me that we were still human, even if the world wanted to turn us into something less.
By midday, the guards gave us our usual break—a single cup of water each and half a piece of stale bread. We sat beneath a crooked tree that offered barely enough shade for five of us, our backs pressed to the cracked trunk.
Zero was there too, sitting apart, staring out at the endless rows of green like he was looking at something far beyond them. He hadn't spoken since morning, not even to ask for water.
Bekk nudged me and nodded in his direction. "You ever hear him talk?"
"Barely," I said.
Ren leaned forward. "Maybe he doesn't remember who he is."
Lira shook her head. "No, he remembers. Look at him. People who forget don't carry eyes like that."
After a long moment, Bekk stood and walked over to him. "Hey, kid," he said, voice lighter than usual. "You gonna sit there and keep pretending the world doesn't exist, or you gonna talk to us for once?"
Zero turned his head slightly, just enough to show that he was listening. His eyes met Bekk's, calm and unreadable. "There's nothing to talk about."
Ren grinned. "Everyone's got something. Where you from?"
Zero hesitated. The wind shifted, brushing his hair across his face. "You wouldn't believe it," he said quietly.
Bekk smirked. "Try us."
Zero looked down at the dirt between his hands. For a moment, I thought he might actually tell us. But then he shook his head. "It doesn't matter."
We all went quiet. The silence wasn't awkward, just heavy. Like whatever truth he carried was too far away to reach. Eventually, Bekk shrugged and sat back down beside us.
"Fine, keep your mystery," he said. "Just don't expect me to stop guessing."
That made Lira laugh, soft but real, and soon the tension broke. We talked about the things we missed—food that tasted like something, streets that didn't smell of rot, mornings without yelling. Ren told us about hunting in the forests of Karaal, how the trees there could grow taller than towers. Bekk bragged about building homes that could withstand earthquakes, though I doubted half of it. Lira spoke of snow that shone blue beneath the moonlight, her voice fading as if she were watching it melt away in her memory.
The sun sank lower, turning the fields gold. The guards barked at us to stand and get back to work. My arms ached, but I didn't mind it as much. The talking helped. For a while, it felt like we weren't just slaves. We were people again.
As the evening light faded, I looked toward Zero. He was still working silently, his movements calm and precise. He didn't look tired. He didn't even look human at that moment.
Something about him didn't fit in this place.
And deep down, I knew whatever story he carried, it was going to matter.
That night, the air was still and heavy. The kind that pressed down on your chest when you tried to sleep. I lay on my back in the small wooden room they kept me in, staring up at the ceiling. The boards above were cracked, and moonlight leaked through in thin, silver lines. Every sound was clear—the faint steps of guards outside, the soft groans of the old wood, the distant cries from someone dreaming too loudly.
Sleep never came easy here. When the noise died down, my thoughts took over. They always did. I thought about the others, about Ren, Lira, and Bekk. About how we all worked, ate, and bled in the same fields but never saw each other once the sun went down. Each of us was given a room just big enough for a bed, a bucket, and our exhaustion. It wasn't to give us comfort. It was to keep us apart.
I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes, but before I drifted off, I thought of Zero. His face stayed in my mind, that calm, unreadable look he wore all day. He was strange, but not in the way most people here were. It was like he carried something inside him that the guards couldn't touch. Something that didn't belong in this place.
For a while, I listened. I thought I could hear him moving somewhere down the corridor, slow and careful, like a shadow trying not to wake the dark. But then it stopped, and silence swallowed the room again. Eventually, I let sleep take me.
When morning came, it was the same as always. Dreg's voice roared through the halls, dragging us back into the same day we'd lived a thousand times. I splashed cold water on my face, grabbed the worn clothes from the corner, and stepped outside when they unlocked the doors.
The others were already in the field, waiting. The air was thick with the smell of damp soil and sweat. The sun hadn't even fully risen, but the heat was already building. We fell into line, tools in hand, and began to work.
For a while, it was quiet. Just the sound of iron against dirt and our breathing. Ren cracked a few jokes to keep the rhythm. Lira smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. Bekk hummed something that used to be a song. The guards leaned on their spears, half-asleep.
Then everything changed.
The sound came first—a thud, quick footsteps pounding against the dirt. I looked up just in time to see Zero running.
He was moving fast, faster than I'd ever seen anyone move. His feet barely touched the ground, his body a blur cutting through the rows of crops.
"Zero!" Bekk shouted, dropping his shovel.
The guards froze, dumbfounded. Then one of them barked an order, and the field exploded with noise.
Zero didn't stop. He ran harder, heading straight for the outer wall—the spiked one, the one that had taken more lives than the war itself. It was tall, jagged, and cruel, a wall meant to break hope before it could reach the top.
But he didn't slow down.
He leapt.
For a breathless second, he was in the air, higher than seemed possible, light cutting across him as if the world itself couldn't decide whether to hold him back or let him go. And then, he was gone—over the spikes, vanishing into the other side.
No one spoke. No one moved.
Even the guards stood still, eyes wide, hands shaking. It didn't look real.
Ren whispered, "He made it."
Bekk laughed under his breath, almost in disbelief. "He actually made it."
Lira smiled faintly, tears already in her eyes. "He's free…"
But the moment didn't last.
The alarm bells screamed through the air, echoing from every corner of the camp. More guards came running, shouting over each other. Dreg's face twisted with fury. "Line them up!" he yelled. "All of them!"
We didn't understand at first. None of us had helped him. But understanding didn't matter here.
They dragged us to the center of the field, kicking up dirt as they forced us to our knees. Dreg's voice was shaking with rage. "He escaped because one of you helped him. You think you can mock us? You think you can defy Asuha?"
The commander arrived soon after, his armor black and shining beneath the sun. He looked at us like we were insects. "One runs," he said quietly. "All pay."
The words hit harder than any blow.
Ren tried to speak, to explain, but the guards didn't listen. They struck him down before he finished his first word. Lira screamed. Bekk lunged forward, but a spear stopped him mid-step.
I could only watch.
Each sound, each cry, carved itself into my mind until it felt like my own blood was screaming with them.
When it was my turn, I lifted my head. The sky was wide and pale above me, the same sky Zero had disappeared into. I wondered if he was out there, running free. Or if he was watching, knowing what his escape had cost.
Either way, I didn't hate him for it.
Because for a moment, we all saw it—what freedom looked like.