And so, after 7 years, I've finally grown up and become somewhat independent. Exactly 7 years ago, I was reborn as a farmer's son in a fantasy world.
During this time, I've learned… nothing.
Absolutely nothing about how to escape this nightmare.
I grew up in a small village on the outskirts of the city of Kendem, located in the western part of the Sapphire Kingdom.
This world has magic and all that. Yes, it's the Middle Ages. Once again, someone is trampling over Tolkien's corpse — even here, there are elves, magic, and other clichéd nonsense.
Naturally, I resented this twist of fate. After all, this dream has gone on for too long. I fell asleep and ended up here, with no way back. I hope this is just a coma caused by the stress of finishing the project I'd been working on for 2 years, and not some death vision spanning 7 Earth years.
But what's truly impressive is that I'm now riding alive in a slave cart.
I just woke up after my village was burned to the ground.
I never grew attached to my new parents — they were just set pieces, cardboard cutouts, and so on.
I'd never believe people like them truly existed. I was even glad when my father died. Nothing else tied me to that village except as a walking source of food and a cold bed.
My eyes are covered with a thick blindfold, and my hands and feet are tightly bound with ropes. Escape was impossible, and every movement was accompanied by a desperate urge to break free. In the end, I gave up and decided to just wait for my fate.
However, my fellow "colleagues" in misfortune didn't think the same way. Their barely audible screams and futile attempts to escape had already filled me with despair at my own helplessness.
The blood on the children's bodies had begun to stink — proof that we'd been traveling for quite a while.
The kidnappers were silent, or maybe there was only one. Perhaps the rest of the bandits were eating in another transport.
Suddenly, the sound of wheels bumping over uneven ground stopped, and we came to a halt.
The children began mustering their last efforts to escape. They clearly didn't realize they'd be better off saving their strength until at least the blindfolds were removed.
The voices faded, and then I was lifted and placed on the ground.
"Stand still and don't even think about falling, or you'll stain the others with your blood."
The voice was surprisingly polite. The man spoke without an accent, with such clear diction it was as if he ran a popular channel on a video platform with millions of subscribers.
Finally, when all the children were lined up, the main blindfold was removed.
It was night — pitch black, not even a star in sight. Before me stood the entrance to a forest and a man with long hair and a stern expression. He wore a buttoned brown cloak, but bare legs stuck out from underneath. Maybe he wasn't wearing anything under it.
I glanced back and saw the cart we'd been transported in, now smeared with blood. It was pulled by two completely naked men, their faces hidden under sacks with slits for eyes. Horrifying.
Their builds told me they weren't from our village — ours were all thin, while these two were massive.
"Now, you belong to me. I've already sorted the girls. Out of twenty-seven, a whole six survived. I was quite surprised by that result. Usually, some good specimens don't make it to the climax of my actions, while others beg to be killed during the sorting itself."
He spoke calmly and softly, as if reading meaningless news on the radio. But he clearly enjoyed this situation — his smile gave it away.
"I hope you'll fare better. You see, I believe women — or in this case, girls — should be beautiful and possess certain qualities. You young talents aren't ready to understand that yet. But that's not the point. I'll be selecting you by different criteria. You must kill at least one boy. There are fifty-two of you in total, which is rather few — usually, I manage to grab seventy or ninety."
"You must kill one of your own, but you're free to kill more. I need strength, and if your fight doesn't satisfy me, or if you're weaker than your opponents, then alas, they'll have to commit an act unworthy of a warrior — killing a fleeing victim. Or I'll have to do it myself. No weapons are allowed — no stones, no branches. The punishment is your life — or rather, the lack thereof."
This was madness. We all exchanged glances. No one dared whisper out of fear and horror. No one even tried to process the situation. It was so insane that none of the "contestants" took his words seriously.
"Now, I'll simply ask about your abilities. If you're a prodigy and know, say, water magic at a sufficient level, I might take you right away without further proof. Show me your skills. Healers are also welcome — absolutely any."
Some of the children tensed. I stood at the end of the line. I knew no magic, no swordsmanship. The only things I could do were fight with my fists at an average level and water crops. I'd fought some boys from the village before. But as I quickly scanned the line, I recognized no one. Apparently, no one from my circle had survived. In one way, that was terrible — but in this situation, it was good.
And so, I faced a dilemma — what should I do? On one hand, these were just characters from another world. But I wasn't. I was a real personhow could I stoop to such a crime? Yes, in my 37 years (or was it 44 now?), I'd been through a lot, but fighting to the death…
On the other hand, death was the worst possible outcome. I didn't want to die. I'd already faced situations in this world where my life hung by a thread, but I'd prefer to choose pride and humanity. Yet the pain of my heart straining on its last breath, the moment before all sensation faded and I left this world — I really didn't want to experience that again. As pleasant as the sensation had been, the events leading up to it were anything but.
"Now, state your name and skills." My thoughts were interrupted by this psychopath.
"My name is Dimit. No last name. I'm a farmer's son. I don't know magic, can't wield a sword"
"No need to continue." He stepped away toward the boys he'd already selected — there were two of them, and they looked like me. We shared similar fates, with splotches of someone else's blood all over their bodies, just like me. And we seemed around the same age.
He began patting their heads with both hands and uttered the phrase that plunged this clearing into chaos:
"Begin. For the Blood God."
A boy, about six years old, turned to me.
"Forgive me… I don't mean it."
Behind him, the children, driven by fear, lunged at their possible friends — but it looked more like a simulated slaughter than an actual bloodbath.
I, too, was driven by fear and assumed a boxer's stance. I didn't know any other way. My opponent hesitated and also raised his fists, though without my confidence.
***Thud***
A loud sound rang out. Everyone stopped their mock battles and looked toward the source.
One boy, the farthest away, had his skull exploded.
The man who'd brought us here spoke a few words in response to the collective shock:
"Only cowards run from their problems. We have no use for such."
Some of the children screamed in horror as the reality of the situation sank in — and then the real carnage began.
While everyone was distracted by the spectacle, my opponent managed to grab a stone and was already winding up to swing at me — when a flying shard of rock pierced his skull. He collapsed.
I looked at the source of this magic.
"What was your name… Dima? Don't consider this betrayal your victory."
Mr. Psychopath was watching the massacre very carefully — he'd even noticed us.
Did he wield creation magic? Or had he launched that stone with wind magic? I didn't know. But if it was the former, he was a formidable enemy — one we couldn't defeat even if we all rushed him at once.
But five boys — likely twins — weren't thinking about that. They lunged at him while he was distracted by me, probably following some hastily devised plan. Of course, he noticed and with a single wave of his hand sent them flying to his left. Apparently, it was wind magic after all.
But I couldn't observe further — another boy, about ten years old, attacked me.
I didn't know how to kill people. And I didn't want to think about it. But the situation left me no choice. The only way I could… was to strangle him…
We began fighting with unrestrained frenzy. He was stronger than me, but his movements were uncertain, jerky, and fearful. Though I, too, was under the banner of fear, I tried to keep my composure, while his movements were more like chaotic swatting at a mosquito.
We punched each other in the face, shoved, tried to kick the other down. Whenever one of us fell and the other approached, the fallen would bite at the legs or hands reaching for their throat.
Eventually, I managed to pin him down. I grabbed his throat and began strangling him. I pinned his arms with my legs while his feet kicked at my back, hoping to hit a pressure point. I poured all my strength into ending this nightmare quickly. I didn't want to see a child suffocating before me — but fate was unavoidable.
Finally, the agonized kicks against my back stopped. I released his neck. My hands were trembling. As was the rest of my body. I felt terrible — like I was about to pass out.
"Another winner. Nine remain. Seven of them performed brilliantly."
Through tears, I looked into the distance where other children, having forgotten the worries of peaceful life, were fiercely killing each other. Those who had already succeeded were attacking without reason — driven only by madness.
"Why are you crying? Missing your mom?"
One of them, searching for his next victim, looked at me. He was only nine. I knew him — he lived on a nearby farm and often came to eat freshly baked bread at our place. He didn't like me much — he came for my sister. Where was she now? I hoped she was okay.
"Come on, Dimit. Goodbye."
He rushed at me with his fists. I sighed heavily and closed my eyes. When I opened them, I saw a boy lying before me, his throat torn out. The taste of blood filled my mouth, and I vomited. Right onto him.
I'd killed two people. What kind of monster was I?
"Five survivors. A good result — a 90% elimination rate. I hope you'll serve as fine warriors for our ruler of the Diamond State — Faenon Sunwing."