CAPITULO VI: The moon rises for everyone.

Part I

The city… was grotesque and beautiful.

On the ground, skyscrapers of gigantic size, some even with details of gold, other glass skyscrapers with huge holograms.

The decay in the alleys was hidden under veils of neon light, advertising holograms spun in spirals, offering virtual pleasures, rewards for denouncing fugitive slaves, or calls to be the night’s menu in blood temples for the cannibals of the elite in exchange for a juicy reward, others offered “guaranteed genetic purity” or “slave organ recycling.”

«It’s a luxury dump… it’s like someone packed all the shit in the world and put it in a little golden box,» thought Bayón, chained with his forehead leaning against the glass.

In the sky, sin “hid” behind the clouds; on mobile platforms there was every kind of pleasure and object of sin: floating brothels, blood temples, shops of drugs, weapons, luxury jewels.

«This world really is corrupted, it seems like the definition of sin is different here, each thing I see is worse than the last one…»

He looked at the artificial city from the window with a face of disgust.

Nobles deformed by excesses toasted with golden chalices, while at their side, naked slaves painted completely in electric purple, with only their mark exposed, served the chalices with something that clearly was not wine, but was of a very familiar red.

Others served as furniture or toys. That was not a utopian city above the clouds, it was a legalized circus of horrors, where suffering was a currency of exchange and the soul barely one more resource.

The social gap was so brutal that they didn’t even try to hide it: the nobles literally ate the slaves, colored lights danced in the sky, hypnotic, almost beautiful… only if one ignored that they covered with their glow that modern Sodom, coated in gold and dried blood.

After a long journey, they arrived at their destination. The carriage stopped in front of a platform in the sky, a property closed off by tall black walls, guarded by armed sentinels.

The magical barrier of the Bull’Dark house opened after a mana verification.

Once inside, the vehicle crossed an immaculate purple stone path, leading to a massive mansion built of black marble and black stone details, with opaque windows and golden reliefs of chained beasts.

It was the exhibition headquarters for rental slaves of the Bull'Dark House.

The carriage passed to a back door.

A pair of Bull’Dark House guards, dressed in reinforced ceremonial suits, pulled Bayón out of the cargo cell.

—Come on, trash —growled one as they dragged him violently.

—You’re no longer the royal guard’s problem, now you’re only worth as much as your number weighs.

They took him through a bright, spotless hallway, where each step echoed as if entering an operating room.

The lighting was dim and sensual.

They threw him inside a completely transparent glass cell.

And when he turned around, to his surprise, the only thing clear was that he was in a showcase.

A display case… The outer walls were decorated with floating screens showing slave statistics, personalized catalogs, and presentation clips.

—You’ll stay here until the master decides what to do with you —warned the representative in a mechanical tone.

—This time we have authorization to kill you if you pull another stunt.

Having said that, they placed an iron collar on him, inscribed with glowing blue runes.

The magical chains disappeared as soon as the magic glass door closed, and the containment field sealed the perimeter.

—Welcome home… № 881431 —recited the representative, activating the sound lock and the one-way glass of the back of the cell.

Bayón let himself fall, his body still trembling from fatigue, but his mind… his spirit refused to yield.

—Damn it, this place looks heavily fortified, these guys really are stubborn…

—At this point it’s impossible to make them understand that I’m not a slave.

—I guess there’s no choice, I have to find a way out of here, but this glass sure looks reinforced —said Bayón as he leaned closer to take a look.

In front of him, beyond the glass, the place was a depraved shopping mall disguised as a noble house: display cases with bodies, hallways decorated with elegant carpets, purple lights pulsing to the rhythm of a melody he could not hear.

Nobles of all kinds of races walked past the cells wearing porcelain masks adorned with jewels, exotic wine glasses in one hand, purchase devices in the other.

And then he saw her.

Right in front of his cell, a female figure, a beautiful elf with a slender figure dressed in translucent silk.

She had no face, her head was covered by a perfect, inhuman white porcelain mask, like a demon, but her beautiful blonde hair and the scars covering her lovely skin could still be seen.

Her cell was full of motion sensors that directed her pleasure directly at her, reinforced with more alarm systems than any other.

She was completely chained: wrists, ankles, neck, everything restrained.

He could not hear her, but Bayón noticed that she moved, very subtly, just a tremor in her mask, the slight sway of her throat, the minimal flex of her abdomen.

«Is she… singing?» he thought.

The song was for no one, she could not look at people, she made no seductive gestures, she sold nothing.

She only sang for herself.

A mute melody that seemed to come from another life, from another place.

Bayón kept watching her, with a strange feeling in his chest; it was not desire, nor pity.

It was the certainty that both were trapped in the same place, even if one of them still pretended not to be.

—This world really is fucked up… —he murmured, almost with a broken smile.

And yet… he still did not bow his head.

It was a human zoo, a Sodom of neon, magic, and technology used to subjugate with “glamour.” Some nobles looked at others of their same species inside the cells as if they were nothing.

As if they were only a product for sale. Bayón clenched his teeth in disgust.

—… Oh, shit, this doesn’t look good at all… —exclaimed Bayón with a look of displeasure.

He preferred to ignore that for the moment and took a look at what was in his new cell.

The advantage was that this time he had a somewhat more comfortable bed, a pile of straw, even a place to freshen up, a washbasin, and the greatest luxury, a toilet, although all made of glass.

—Damn it with these filthy bastards… —said Bayón, raising his fist slightly — And they call the slaves pigs.

—These guys are real degenerates, where the hell did I end up… —Bayón muttered as he went to the washbasin to wash his face.

—I suppose this really must be the place of my eternal punishment, but the situation of being transported to another world still seems a bit chaotic to me.

«What madness, I must keep a strong mind and see the positive side of this or I think I’ll lose my head…» thought Bayón as he washed his body at the washbasin.

—… At least I have some water to drink and I’m still alive somehow, I guess that’s already something, right?…

—But, what is this collar? Well, I guess it’s obvious, it must be a submission item… but how will I take it off, how did that bastard who escaped do it?

The new collar tightened around his neck with glowing red runes.

This collar was special; they used it when a slave tried to escape, every word he said was analyzed, every emotion was recorded, every silence was suspicious.

—If it hadn’t been for that bastard Torgann I wonder if I would have been able to escape, his blows really were from another world.

—I didn’t think much about it, but it’s impressive that magic can be used here. —I wonder what it takes for a world to be magical…

—Damn, that’s right! If it’s another world, maybe I also have magic.

—Could I be able to use some kind of skill in this world, or some spell?

Bayón thought as anyone would in this kind of situation, to escape using his new abilities, if he had been granted any.

And pointing his hand directly at the glass he shouted:

—Powers beyond my human comprehension, activate!!!

But nothing happened, people only saw a crazy slave making all kinds of strange gestures and unusual poses, while shouting all sorts of activation phrases that clearly did not work.

With his face slightly flushed — Koff… Well, I guess it would have been too good to be true.

Expecting something good among all this shit is dreaming too much. —While he sighed, he could notice something different in the environment, as if everything was more alive than in the daytime.

The city light passed through a skylight in the ceiling.

Admiring the landscape from his confinement, the clouds opened for an instant and then he saw it.

A sick, pale, cracked moon floated in the sky with the beautiful glow of a full moon, but it was not alone; something was embracing it.

At first, he did not know what it was.

Clinging to its surface like a motionless parasite, there rested a creature that did not seem made to exist. Its body, shaped like a winged chameleon, was pale green and scaly, but that was not what chilled the blood.

It was covered in glowing spots —tiny swirls of light— that flickered like stars.

Some expanded like nebulas, others spun like spirals of galaxies…

But they all had something in common.

They looked like eyes.

They did not move, yet they gave the impression of watching him from every angle, as if every star on its skin had a pupil, as if the cosmos itself were scrutinizing him from an unmoving body.

It had only one pair of wings, resting like a banner.

And all over its body —its back, its sides, even under its neck— sprouted small legs ending in black hooves, twisted like scaly goat claws.

Its head, elongated like a ritual stone, showed no expression at all.

Its eyes were closed, asleep.

Or pretending to be.

Even so, the fear did not dissipate. It was as if the universe itself had incarnated in a primitive beast.

And this one had noticed him.

Bayón took what little calm he had left and swallowed hard, as if he could dissolve the unease creeping through his chest.

«I suppose this must be the strangest thing I’ll see in this world… and that’s saying a lot.» thought Bayón as a bead of sweat slid down his face. «I’ll do the same as always, and simply ignore it.»

It was not worth getting lost in useless enigmas, the only thing that really mattered now was to harden his body, his entire existence depended on it.

It was a brutal world, with no rules favoring the weak nor compassion for those who surrendered.

Every second he breathed here was a loan… and he intended to pay it back with interest.

«I don’t know what will happen tomorrow… but I have to be prepared.»

He turned his head toward his reflection in the wall of dark glass, the faint lighting of the hallway filtered through the frame’s slits revealed enough.

—It’s true, I’ve rejuvenated… I almost forgot —he murmured, surprising even himself with the almost relieved tone of his voice.

Maybe he had no magic, no abilities, but this… this was an advantage, a breath in the middle of hell.

—A shame I didn’t get a broken power… but at least I’m whole.

Then he looked around and clicked his tongue. —Tsk… This place really is indecent…

Most of the slaves were almost naked, some barely covered with rags that calling them clothes would be an insult to the concept.

On the straw that served him as a bed, he distinguished a cloth loincloth.

—Not a chance…

—My torn pants are better, although… —he grimaced— maybe I can use it to clean them.

He would not waste time complaining, little by little he acclimated to the disgusting glass prison where they displayed him, the stench of bodies, of misery, and the rumor of punishments would not stop him.

He knelt down and began.

Push-ups, sit-ups, squats, dips, plyometrics, improvised pull-ups, hanging from a slit in the frame.

With bare feet, his back still marked by blows and his muscles stiff, Bayón forced himself to continue, cutting rest times, ignoring the burn.

He didn’t give a damn about the pain, here no one would save him.

This world would show no mercy to him… and he would show no mercy to this world.

He would go on, again and again, until his body burst or turned to steel.

Part II

The days went by, about three or so, in that place without clocks; time was only a soft torture that clung to the soul.

Bayón ate once a day, a lukewarm, tasteless gruel, served in a metal bowl, slid through a channel that didn’t even let him see the jailer’s face; sometimes it was pasty, other times liquid, always miserable.

He slept with one eye open, his head resting on the straw, while through the skylight he watched the city keep spinning out there, colored lights crossing the glass like false dreams, and the image of laughter… soft and cruel laughter, from nobles who passed in front of his cell, glancing sideways.

Bayón ignored everything, he only trained.

At first, the wounds screamed with every movement, but after the third day, his body ignored the plea, it only obeyed.

—“I have no magic, I have nothing… but I’m not going to rot away doing nothing,” he said, just to hear his own voice in solitude.

On one of those days, a group of nobles stopped in front of his cell.

One of them spoke like a murmur soaked in wine.

—“A pure human at that age? What a rarity,” said a noble with a dog mask, reading the information panel.

—“Too old for the blood temple, although still gala meat… the body is firm, look at those lats.” —another noble with a jester mask replied.

—“Look, he’s a nomad… Maybe we could use him for the red circle. Can you imagine? One without magic…” —said another noble wearing a crying man mask, reading the small letters at the end of the panel.

They laughed and went on their way.

Bayón couldn’t hear anything, he didn’t even look at them, he just kept exercising on the floor.

“If the body endures… the mind does too,” Bayón thought as he did push-ups.

When he finished the set, he lay back down on the straw, his body sore, stomach empty, and eyes fixed on the ceiling.

A drop of sweat slid into his eye, but he didn’t even wipe it away.

“They won’t break me… this world won’t have that privilege.”

Because no matter how much this world wanted to drag him into despair, they couldn’t touch the most important thing: his spirit.

He was already used to being at the bottom.

Now the only thing left was to climb… or drag them down with him into hell.

Then something unexpected happened.

The silence broke.

At first he thought he had imagined it: a beautiful voice, like a soft echo, like a note held too long among crystals, but soon he understood that the magical soundproofing of his cell had been deactivated.

Perhaps because there was no sense wasting mana on someone who didn’t scream and only trained, who didn’t cry or kick like the others.

And there she was, the figure in front of his cell.

The woman with the porcelain mask decorated with gems, the same one who hadn’t moved in days, chained as if she were part of the furniture.

She wore only a few translucent veils that gave her more elegance than modesty, and her body, though stiff from the chains, seemed to float in its own bubble of beauty and decadence.

She was singing.

A distant, melancholic song… in a language he did not understand.

Her voice was soft, almost ethereal, it slid like silk through the filth of the air, it was as if the whole atmosphere of the corridor changed when she intoned those verses.

Everything became… more real and cruel.

“How can it sound this beautiful in a place like this…?”

Bayón couldn’t stop looking at her, nor listening.

The singing returned from time to time, wrapping the whole corridor like a sweet perfume.

He couldn’t tell whether she did it on purpose or simply sang out of inertia, like a flower that keeps blooming in the middle of the mire.

Until he began to hear other voices: slaves in neighboring cells, dragged away, exchanged, exhibited; some sobbed, others laughed with a contained madness, some simply spoke.

—“Hey, new guy… can you hear me now?” —a woman’s mocking voice came from the adjoining cell.

—“Last time it seemed you couldn’t. Still doing those weird monkey-hanging things?”

Bayón ignored her, but she insisted.

—“Oooh! Looks like now you really can hear me,” said the woman with a slight laugh. “Don’t take it the wrong way.”

—“Here we all have our way of not going insane. Yours is moving your muscles, mine is talking to weird guys like you.”

Bayón turned his head.

—“HA… that was a lie, I just made you turn… I didn’t know you could hear me, hahaha.”

The human woman wore a kind of purple silk robe with stars and a golden moon on the sides, barely covering enough of her cleavage. She waved an elegant black fan with a coquettish gesture.

Her hair was tinted with a brilliant turquoise pigment, as if it gave off its own light; one of her eyes was the same color as her hair, and the other had a purple tone that glowed, giving the impression that something more intense was behind it.

—“The nobles pass through here every day. Some buy, others just look… but they all drool,” she said, throwing a provocative glance at Bayón beyond the glass. “Don’t you drool, my nomad friend?”

“Nomad? That word again, what is this woman talking about?” Bayón did not answer, he only returned a confused look.

—“Ah, I see,” she continued, amused.

—“Then the rumors were true… the wardens spoke of you, they said you played crazy with the royal guard and pretended not to remember anything.”

—“But I think it’s not just a rumor, I’ve seen you and it really looks like you’re lost.”

—“Crazy or not, maybe you’d like to know some things…”

She paused, stood up, adjusted her robe, and fixed her hair with the reflection in the glass closest to Bayón.

When she finished, playfully, she blew Bayón a kiss and pulled out a fan made of black feathers, waved it in front of her face, and locked eyes on him.

—“I’ll propose something, gladiator, give me your food for today… and tomorrow’s as well, in exchange I’ll tell you what no one else will.”

—“Are you that hungry?” Bayón looked at her coldly, as if trying to figure out her intentions.

—“So hungry for someone here willing to trade their food for something other than entertaining my crotch.”

—“It seems you neither crawl nor beg, I like you, but I don’t work for free,” she replied with a crooked smile she hid behind the fan.

Bayón hesitated at first, then nodded with a slight shrug of his shoulders—whatever it took to understand this hell a little better.

—“Deal!” said the woman, pointing her fan toward Bayón.

The woman leaned her back against the glass, putting herself closer to Bayón.

—“Where should I start? What would you like to know?”

—“From the beginning…” said Bayón seriously, but cordially.

—“From the beginning? … you could be more specific,” the girl said with a confused look.

—“From the beginning of everything, I don’t remember absolutely anything…” said Bayón, with pure eyes that held a dirty glint.

—“Don’t mess with me… that’ll cost you another meal,” said the human girl, bringing the fan to her face with an exasperated expression. “…Well, I’ll do you the favor.”