Bullying the Weak

An hour of traveling later, Eight discovered a good location to eat and rest for the night. A somewhat long distance from the trail stood a colossal tree, its canopy towering above the nearby flora, stretching far into the sky.

Many vibrant species of moss grew along its dark bark and web of branches, contrasting the dark greens and browns of the tree. The tree's bark was as dark as his skin. Small glowing mushrooms were scattered all around the base of its wide trunk.

Although the scenery was great, Eight chose this location due to the large space beneath the tree's stilt-like roots, which reminded him of the mud huts which he had heard were scattered across his native land. A sunken grotto large enough for him and the two night cat corpses to fit in with room to spare, and perfectly dry despite it having just rained.

Eight slipped between the roots and sat down, placing the dirty corpses on the cool, compact ground. He soon discovered another benefit to the location; the gaps between the roots made it so there wasn't any lasting stench of blood.

By now it was well into the night and a cool breeze ventilated the entire area. he sighed, his eyebags dark from exhaustion. Now that he survived the unexpected attack, it was time to rest and heal. The large cuts on his chest were already scabbed over, but his left arm was healing at an incrementally slower rate.

Eight grimaced at the sight. The wound was showing signs of infection, who knows when it would stop healing and start rotting. He had to clean it and soon at that.

Knowing this, Eight got up and grabbed both of the night cat corpses by their tails, leaving the tree. Despite being exhausted and hungry, cleaning himself and his food took priority. He silently thanked his past self for taking a nap earlier that day.

Eight walked towards a nearby river, its crystal-like water reflecting the moon clearly and allowing him to see the shallow depths with ease. He entered it with his stained clothes on, bringing the corpses with him and began taking large gulps of water.

Eight usually had plenty of water to drink here due to the many streams in the forest, however, because of the night cats and other potential predators, he didn't want to risk stopping.

After drinking his fill, he started scrubbing himself of all the blood, sweat, and mud that caked his body. The toxic waste dyed the water a maroon color, heading downstream to bring misery to whatever lay there.

Not long later, Eight finished washing himself and began working on the corpses. The night cats' fur was like tree bark, uneven and solid from all the blood and mud that coated it.

Eight frowned as he scrubbed them in the stream and waited for the grime to dissolve. By the time the corpse was in an acceptable state, the moon had already risen high into the sky. Cleaning both the corpses had taken him well over six times the time it took to clean himself, leaving him with even less time to eat and sleep.

Eight felt the pressure on him intensify. He had a daily quota of two bricks, not meeting that quota would end in a harsh beating.

He carried the night cat corpses to the river bank after he finished them washing off. Eight carefully placed them on the gravelly ground and entered the river once again, searching for something within it.

Clouds of brown dust were stirred up as he turned over stones and waded slowly, his eyes glued to the riverbed. Suddenly, he rushed forward, almost diving towards a shining stone that had been reflecting the starry sky. A moment later, Eight held up a piece of flint no bigger than his hand. He couldn't help but smile at his good luck. The first piece of flint he found already met the requirements for starting a fire.

Eight didn't stop for long, soon continuing his search. He had a large chunk of flint, but it was only a single stone. He needed a second for the creation of sparks.

He decided he would start a fire to cook his food instead of eating it raw. On one hand, cooked food is much easier to digest and provides more benefits at a lower cost, but on the other hand, it was possible for it to take too long for Eight to find the necessary materials, making it not worthwhile and better for him to eat the night cats raw. Further, if he lit a fire, he could be seen by any guard passing nearby. It was a risk he was willing to take.

An hour later, he sat next to a bright orange campfire, with roughly cut meat cooking over it on pointed sticks. Even though it had just rained, he was able to find dry wood without much problem.

The forest's canopy was quite dense which led to many areas, specifically areas beneath large trees, being somewhat dry. Soon, a piquant aroma spread around the fire.

Eight took a deep whiff of the scent, almost salivating over the prospect of eating meat for the first time in weeks. Luckily, taking the risk of starting a fire paid off. If he hadn't been able to find the two stones or dry wood, his gamble would have wasted a lot of valuable time.

Eight soon took the skewered meat from the bright flame, its surface a glistening and crisp, brown texture. He took a cautious bite after blowing on it for some time.

Eating gave him the sensation of heavy rain over parched soil, his empty stomach breaking down and processing the food at an incredible rate. He ate the meat in no time at all and immediately grabbed another stick. Eight shoved it greedily into his mouth, consuming the entire piece in just a few bites.

A short time later, he lay on his back beneath the giant tree. Despite him eating so much after starving, he only had some mild and inconsequential stomach pain. After Eight ate his fill, he burnt the half-eaten corpse and left the fire to die out. He hadn't touched the other night cat body.

"Heck. To think the day would come where I have too much food to eat," Eight chuckled after reducing the other corpse to ashes. He didn't bother to wipe away his tracks as there weren't any humans nearby and animals couldn't follow them.

Eight sighed to himself. Despite trying to be as fast as possible, it was already midnight by the time he made it back to the tree. His exhaustion made the trip back almost impossible, and his injuries didn't help. His chest and arms were recovering but any strain would reopen the wounds.

Eight couldn't help but ponder his situation. The more he thought about it the more he found it strange. How could there have been any beasts near the trail? Was it really just his bad luck?

But no matter how much he thought, Eight couldn't come to any conclusion besides it being a freak accident. He stopped thinking about it not long later, drifting off into a dreamless slumber.

Waking up the next morning, he mumbled to himself, "Could it be?"

An uncomfortable feeling had sprouted up in his chest, directly above his heart. It was a mild numbness, like that of a cloth loosely wrapped around his organs.

Having a good idea of what the feeling represented, Eight couldn't help but smile for the first time in years. It was a strange smile, one containing a boundless emotion. Knowing the future would be interesting, he laughed and left the large tree.

Eight splashed the river's cold water into his face, wiping away any remaining excitement. When he had arrived at the river, he noticed the tracks of various animals circling the area where he had eaten. It was a good thing he burned the corpses.

Noon was already closing in as Eight left the area; he had slept well into the morning. He passed the colossal tree and soon arrived at the muddy trail. The conditions were still wet from yesterday's rain causing a thin fog to cling to the ground, moving only as he passed through it. Running was not an issue because he was well-rested and fed. There was no time to waste.

Last night, he had formed a plan to catch up to his quota and possibly even get ahead. Following the path, Eight soon spotted a pair of slaves that were carrying a brick, causing his lips to split into a malicious grin.

The guards would keep track of a slave's quota based on how many bricks that slave brought to the fort. This meant that all Eight had to do was take bricks from other slaves before they arrived at the fort, saving time and stamina. The only problem was the almost guarantee of him getting a beating, but so what?

He was already going to get punished and the guards wouldn't kill or cripple him. As for the exploited slaves, Eight didn't even consider them. Only his quota mattered.

"Give me brick," he demanded, halting the tired procession, his tone not leaving the two slaves any room for debate.

Eight naturally knew his own strength and value were above the pairs, hence he didn't waste time and directly commanded them to give him the brick. The older of the two seemed to know his place, however, the younger, a boy from the looks of it, was indignant and got upset.

"We have been carrying this brick for five hours already, why should we give it to you!" he shouted at Eight, nearly dropping the large brick on his own legs in anger.

Contrary to the reddened face of the younger slave, the older of the two became ashen at the young man's sudden outburst. With his experience, he had recognized Eight immediately. Being a highly valued slave due to his monstrous physical strength, Eight probably wouldn't be punished much even if he killed the pair. The old man cursed the naïve boy before hastily apologizing to Eight.

"He didn't recognize who you are, Number Eight," the old man said while glaring furiously at the young boy, his tone full of admonishment and implications.

Eight chuckled inwardly at both of their attitudes, he wouldn't get upset by something like this. It didn't matter whether they praised or criticized him, they just had to do what they were told. The young man quickly realized his blunder, to think that he shouted at the infamous Eight. Despite him being upset, fear caused his rationality to return.

He hurriedly bowed his head as much as he could while holding the brick. "Please forgive me, I didn't recognize who you were, sir."

The young man looked terrified; his sweaty face decomposed into the same shade as his older partner. Although he hadn't been a slave for long, the young man had already learned many different unspoken rules of the encampment, the social hierarchy so to speak. He smiled bitterly internally while showing a fawning and fearful expression on the outside, hoping Eight would pity him. Who didn't like being respected?

Eight easily saw through the young man's gilded expression. It was normal for the weak to do whatever they can to obtain the favor of the strong. However, it was a shame the young man met Eight, who couldn't care less about others, especially since he could barely take care of himself.

"The brick," Eight said in a rougher tone while pointing at the object in question. Only then did the old and young man hesitantly place the brick down onto the trail, seeing that Eight's patience was reaching its limit.

Eight ignored their resentful glares. He felt no arrogance nor superiority towards other slaves, how could he? He was a slave himself.

No matter how strong he was, he would never be better than anyone with a mana core. Most slaves lack mana due to injury or restraints, he simply lacked aptitude and intelligence. All Eight could do with his limited ability was rely on his strength to survive the day. Not saying anything else to the pair, he picked up the brick and began his trek towards the fort.

* * *

Eight exhaled after placing his final brick with a thud. His flawed idea truly was effective. Within just one day, he had caught up to his quota just as the sun began to set. He now had plenty of time to sleep and probably would get a good tent to sleep in, that is if he wasn't imprisoned the moment he stepped foot into the checkpoint.

The sky was a vast canvas of orange and red, blending together. Eight couldn't help but spare a minute to appreciate the sight. A guard came into his peripheral vision, prompting him into leave the fort.

He walked down the incline and entered the forest. Feeling at peace, he ran for nearly five minutes before stopping and frowning, realizing something was wrong. An uncanny silence had enchanted the forest, one that was noticed by Eight due to the lack of movement. The trees and shrubbery appeared paralyzed, the absence of wind and fauna only serving to increase his vigilance.

Eight briskly jumped to the side of the path and crawled beneath a large bush. Hunched over like a stone, his presence seemed to disappear along with his physical form, hiding him from all senses but sight. As someone who survived as a slave for many years, it was only natural that he was adept in concealment.

After slowing his breathing and heart rate, Eight closed his eyes, allowing his other senses to take preeminence. The world was still, no sounds could be heard. Even the shallow wind halted its movement, not rustling the overhead leaves or stirring up the loose dust that lay along the trail.

Eight waited for ten minutes before cautiously rising. Staying in a hunched position, he scanned the nearby surroundings, his eyes now open. The stillness had evolved into something greater, no longer frozen but dead. It was as if the world had lost all color, sound, and life.

Suddenly, Eight jerked his head down the trail. His pupils shrunk and not speaking a word, he bolted deeper into the forest.

Trees flashed by him as he sprinted for his life, his working on overdrive. Branches clawed at his face, but he ignored them, only watching where he placed his feet as to not trip. He soon began to pant in ragged gasps, yet he pushed further and further, until arriving at the large tree where he slept last night.

Eight dived into it, barely managing to avoid the elongated roots, and crashed onto the ground beneath the tree. Despite having the breath knocked out of him, he forcefully held it in, not making a sound. Slowly but fluidly, he raised his head, allowing him to peer at the terrible sight that caused his extreme reaction.

It didn't take long for the ground to begin quaking, revealing the enormous scope of the stampeding tide of beasts. Hundreds, no, thousands of wolves, boars, bears, and other carnivores rushed across the forest, obliterating any plants or animals in their path. From his hidden position, Eight watched on as the rabid charge swept past him, beelining in the direction of the Fort.