CHAPTER 3: MAGICAL WORLD!
The guards dragged him back into camp. The other children sat huddled together, their chains clinking, faces streaked with tears. No one spoke, only the sound of crying and the low growl of wolves circling the wagons.
They threw him down like a sack of grain. The impact rattled through his bones, mud splashing against his cheek. He tried to lift his head, vision swimming, but the world blurred into streaks of firelight and shadow. Then darkness swallowed him whole.
When he woke again, the world was different.
Cold stone pressed against his back. Water dripped steadily from somewhere above, each drop echoing in the silence. The room was narrow, damp, and suffocating. His body felt weak, every muscle trembling as if it no longer belonged to him.
He blinked, forcing his eyes open. Shapes outlined in the gloom, walls slick with moisture, iron bars faintly glinting in the dark. His breath came shallow, ragged, as he tried to piece together where he was.
Then a voice cut through the silence.
Rough, but childlike. Low, yet edged with something sharp.
"So… you finally woke up, huh?"
John startled, his head snapping toward the sound. His pulse quickened, every nerve on edge.
A soft chuckle answered his reaction, light but edged with weariness.
"I didn't mean to scare you," the voice said. "It's just… nice to finally have someone new to talk to."
John blinked, forcing his vision to focus. In the dim light, he saw him, a boy with hair the color of crimson flame, strands catching faint glimmers from the dripping water above. His eyes were green, deep, and alive, like the forest itself. Despite the sharpness of his features, there was still softness there, the roundness of youth, a baby face that hadn't yet hardened into adulthood.
John found himself staring, thoughts drifting, until the boy tilted his head and spoke again.
"Hello? Are you still there?"
The words snapped John out of his haze. He drew a shaky breath, his voice rough but steady.
"…Where are we?"
The boy smiled faintly, a touch of humor in his tone.
"Wow, straight to the point. Honestly… I don't know." His smile faded, replaced by a flicker of anger. "Those bastards just dragged us here and locked us in."
Before John could answer, a low groan rippled through the silence. Both boys turned toward the sound.
At the far end of the room, shadows shifted as other children stirred, chained and broken. Some sat slumped against the wall, their eyes hollow. Others lay sprawled on the ground, too weak to rise. The faint drip of water echoed over their shallow breaths, a rhythm of despair.
John's chest tightened. Their faces were pale, streaked with dirt and tears, their bodies trembling with exhaustion. All hope was drained from their eyes.
The red‑haired boy's voice dropped, softer now.
"They keep bringing more of us. Some don't even wake up. You were the last one they brought in."
John swallowed hard, the weight of the scene pressing down on him. His fists clenched, weak though they were.
'Why would someone do this?'
The boy leaned back against the damp wall, a crooked grin tugging at his lips.
"I'm Nico, by the way."
John's voice came out rough, but steady. "John."
Nico's eyes moved over him, lingering on the bruises and raw marks across his skin.
"Damn…" he muttered, voice low but edged with curiosity. "They really gave you hell. What did you do to end up like that?"
John gritted his teeth, gaze fixed on the damp floor. His words came out heavy, almost reluctant.
"I tried to escape."
Nico tilted his head, green eyes narrowing, disbelief flickering in them.
"You… tried? What are you talking about? You're sitting here with me now. Is that just exhaustion talking, or did you really—"
John turned toward him, his voice quiet but steady.
"No. I really did try and... it didn't turn out so well for me."
For a moment, Nico just stared. Then a look of awe crept across his face, softening his grin.
"Either you're insane… or you've got balls of steel." He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping to a whisper. "How did you even pull that off?"
John shook his head faintly. "I don't know. Desperation, maybe."
Nico let out a low whistle, leaning back against the wall.
"Doesn't even matter. The fact you even tried… that's mind‑blowing."
John's gaze fell again, the memory flashing sharp — mud dragging him down, chains biting into his wrists, fists slamming into his ribs. His jaw tightened.
"Key word is tried. And it doesn't feel like much of a victory either."
Nico shrugged, his grin returning, though softer this time.
"Maybe not. But every little thing counts."
John tilted his head, his voice low. "How many people are here exactly?"
Nico leaned back against the damp wall, counting on his fingers as if the act itself carried weight.
"Well… if you count me and you, that makes twelve." His tone shifted, the grin fading into a more somber expression. "And I've got a feeling you were the last one they dragged in."
A thin voice from the corner whispered, "Thirteen, if you count the one they took out."
Silence pressed in. John turned, seeing a girl curled against the wall, her eyes hollow.
Another girl added. "Doesn't matter. We're all dead anyway."
Nico shot him a glare, then forced a grin. "Ignore her. She's been saying that since she got here."
John's eyes followed the sound of shallow breaths and muffled sobs. In the gloom, he could make out the others—boys and girls huddled together, chained at the wrists and ankles. Some sat slumped against the stone, their faces streaked with dirt and tears. Others lay sprawled on the wet floor, too weak to rise, their bodies trembling with exhaustion.
The sight pressed down on him, heavier than the chains. Twelve children, broken and bound, waiting for whatever came next.
Nico's voice cut through the silence, softer now, almost resigned.
"You know most of us here are either scared shitless or have just given up hope…" He tilted his head, studying John with a strange mix of curiosity and admiration. "But you, my man...You are different."
"By the looks of it, I'm not the only one. You act like everything is fine," John muttered, his voice edged with disbelief.
Nico shrugged, a crooked grin tugging at his lips.
"Well, it's like my grandpa used to say, 'when life gives you lemons, make lemonade'." He puffed out his chest a little, trying to look wise, almost like a scholar lecturing a class. "Besides, I promised myself I'd never cry. No matter what."
For a moment, it was almost cute, the way he said it, the way he tried to carry himself like he was older than he was. But the truth pressed in from every side: the iron bars, the dripping water, the hollow eyes of the other children. They weren't in a classroom. They were in a cage, waiting to learn whether they would live or die.
John studied him, torn between admiration and disbelief. Nico's grin was real, but behind it was something else, a refusal to break, even in the midst of soul crushing despair.
After a while, John's eyes adjusted to the dim light. He looked around at the group again. At first, he thought fatigue was playing tricks on him, but when he stared harder, he realized what he was seeing: a girl with a wolf's ear peeking through her hair, and the faint swish of a tail slipping from the bag where she sat among them.
John's chest tightened. 'That's… impossible.'
Nico glanced at John, who sat frozen, eyes wide, expression locked in pure shock. Curious, Nico followed John's gaze and spotted the wolf-eared girl.
"Oh… the others," Nico muttered, scratching his cheek. "Doesn't matter what race they are. They just take whoever they want."
John swallowed hard. His voice came out thin and disbelieving.
"She's… not human."
Nico looked genuinely confused by the statement.
"Yeah, so? I mean—why's that surprising?"
John didn't answer. He couldn't. His eyes shifted from the girl to the rest of the group — and the deeper he looked, the more wrong everything became.
A girl whose body glowed faint blue beneath her skin.
A boy with slit pupils that narrowed like a snake's.
Someone in the corner with vines creeping up their neck, the faint shimmer of green catching the torchlight.
None of them looked human. Not even close.
John's pulse raced as reality buckled under the weight of what he was seeing.
"This… isn't real," he whispered. "It can't be."
Nico leaned closer, noticing the panic in John's eyes.
"Hey… are you alright? Why are you acting like this is something new?"
John's gaze stayed fixed on the floor, his voice thin and uneven.
"It… it isn't new."
Nico frowned, concern flickering across his face.
"Okay, now I'm worried. What do you mean by that?"
John finally looked up, his words heavy, almost hesitant.
"So, this is normal? Different races… all in the same world. If that's true… does that mean, there's magic too? Spells, powers… all of it?"
Nico just sighed, shaking his head with a crooked grin.
"Huh… where did they find you? Under a rock?"
John didn't answer. His jaw tightened, but his thoughts churned too loud to ignore.
'Should I be happy I'm in a fantasy world… or furious that it happened without my consent? That bastard — dragging me out of my rest, throwing me into this mess. And not even the decency to give me something useful. No memories, no guidance, not even a cheat. he just through me into this nightmare.'
John's fists clenched against the cold stone floor. "Ahh… this is frustrating," he muttered under his breath.
Nico leaned closer, snapping his fingers in front of John's face. "Hey, are you alright? you are really scaring me."
But before John could answer, the sound cut through the air, heavy footsteps echoing down the corridor.
The children froze. Chains rattled as they instinctively pressed back against the walls, breaths shallow, eyes wide.
Nico's grin vanished, replaced by a sharp edge of fear. He whispered, barely audible, "They're coming."
The footsteps grew louder, deliberate, each one striking like a drumbeat against the silence. Torchlight flickered at the far end of the hall, shadows stretching long across the damp stone.
John's pulse quickened. His mind raced, torn between panic and the bitter thought that whatever came next would decide if this cage was the end… or the beginning.