The field stretched for miles, rows of low berry bushes burning red under the sun. Dozens of slaves moved through them in silence, each one shackled at the ankle with a chain that ended in a heavy iron ball. Every step was a drag. Every bend of the spine a slow, weary fold.
Among them was a girl no older than eighteen, her skin ghost-pale, hair tangled, face damp with sweat. She moved like someone who'd been weak for a long time, the kind of weakness that wasn't from this day alone. The iron ball scraped along the dry earth as she crouched and plucked berries, her fingers trembling, but her eyes weren't on the work in front of her. They kept drifting, unfocused, toward a stretch of empty horizon.
There was nothing there. No fence. No wall. Yet she could feel it, the border. The unseen line that burned against her thoughts, calling to her in a way she didn't understand.
A sharp crack split the air. Pain exploded across her back. She flinched forward with a gasp, collapsing to her knees.
"Up," the watchman's voice barked.
He stood over her in a cleaner, sturdier outfit than any of them had seen in years, his whip dangling loose in his hand. Around them, the others froze for a heartbeat before working faster, hands blurring over the berry branches.
The girl stayed hunched. Another lash tore across her shoulders. She bit down a scream, curling into herself.
"You're slowing again," he said, voice low but edged.
She shook her head, trying to get back up, but her arms felt like water. Another blow landed, this one harder, driving the air from her lungs. A sound tore out of her, half scream, half whimper.
Something inside her gave way. The faint shimmer she'd always felt, like an invisible bar holding her together, flickered and dropped fast. It had been draining for a long time. Now, it simply broke.
Her vision blurred. The iron ball rolled an inch as she collapsed fully to the dirt, unable to move at all.
A blinding flash cut through the darkness behind her eyes.
When her vision cleared, the world's overlay swam into focus, a faint pink bar stretched across her sight, full to the brim. Below it, a second, thinner bar glowed a sickly brown, barely a sliver left. XP. That's what they called it. The measure of everything that kept you alive here. XP wasn't just effort, it was the sum of every bruise, every hour in the fields, every moment you kept moving instead of dropping dead. Without it, you couldn't eat. You couldn't heal. You couldn't climb the levels that might one day open the borders.
Sil let out a breath. Full health again. Almost no XP. Figures.
She pushed herself up from the miserable excuse for a bed, nothing but flattened straw tied together with twine, scratching at her skin. Her body still ached in places the reset hadn't reached. Third time she'd been sent back like this. Third time she'd woken here after collapsing in those endless berry fields.
The door scraped open. Lily slipped in, hair in loose tangles, bare feet dusty from the walk over. None of them had real names. That was a luxury. "Lily" was just what Sil called her because she needed something human to hold on to.
Lily hurried over and caught her hand, her face tight with worry. "How many times have I told you not to slack off? If you don't build enough XP, you don't eat. And if you don't eat, you get beaten until you reset again."
Sil rubbed at her ankle where the shackle mark still stung. But unlike Lily, she had no Chain on her foot; it was because she had been reset, so now the Watchers had to chain her down again. And without the heavy weight around her body, Sil felt very relaxed, even if it meant that she had lost all her XP, which wasn't even that much to begin with.
"Do you think it matters how hard I work? You've seen the numbers. Ninety-nine percent of what we earn gets skimmed off by the master before it even reaches us. It's their trick. We'll never leave these borders." Her voice was flat, heavy. "And even if we do, what lies beyond them is a complete mystery. How do we survive it by just picking berries for who knows how many centuries, just so we can level up enough to walk out of the borders?"
Lily clicked her tongue. "You're starting with this nonsense again. I've seen people cross that line. They filled their XP, leveled up, and walked out free. You just have to work like everyone else and stop falling out."
"Falling out" was what they called it here instead of dying, your body collapsing so far past empty that you had no choice but to get pulled back to the reset point.
Sil shook her head. "I don't believe it. Not the way they tell it. There has to be another way, something faster than breaking yourself for their numbers."
Lily's eyes narrowed. "I always wanted the two of us to cross the border together, but you're not making it easy for me." She said it with the kind of look that said she'd already decided this was an argument for another day. But her hand squeezed Sil's just a little tighter before she let go.
Lily left for her chambers. The chambers were nothing more than foul, windowless halls, rows of coffin-like bunks stacked close together, mold spreading in the corners, the air heavy with rot and sweat. Each room crammed fifty slaves together with no sanitation, just the stench of too many bodies in too small a space.
Sil stepped out of her own chamber. Curfew was near, which meant she was supposed to be inside, but the threat of punishment didn't scare her anymore. She had nothing left to lose, and this wasn't the first time she'd broken the rules. Whenever she could find the chance, she slipped out at night and headed for the borders. She couldn't reach them, they'd stop her long before that, but she needed to see what lay beyond. Every time she got close, dawn came too soon, and someone would spot her, drag her back, and make her pay for it. Sometimes that meant days without food. The only reason she'd survived those times was Lily. Even with their rations being little more than pig slop, barely enough for one person, Lily would save part of hers for Sil.
Tonight, like always, Sil slipped into the berry bushes, the same ones where she'd been beaten to the brink earlier that day. She crouched low and waited until the candles and lanterns around the grounds went dark. She barely breathed. The Watchers came with their lanterns, counting the bodies in the bunks. Her bed, stuffed with straw to look like she was sleeping there, fooled them again under the dim, swaying light.
When the Watchers finished their rounds, they filed out of the slave chambers, heading toward their own quarters, the so-called Better Chambers.
Level One. That's what they were. Just one step above slaves, but the difference was everything. Better food. Softer beds. And, most importantly, they got a share of the XP earned by the slaves under them. The rest went straight to the masters.
XP, currency, status, power. Everything in this world ran on it. But for slaves? It was nothing more than a cruel joke. They could work themselves to the bone and never hold a single point for more than a moment.
Sil had seen the Better Chambers once, slipping past the guards when no one was looking. She remembered the beds most of all, stuffed with something soft, warm against the skin. Not like the sharp, moldy straw she slept on.
Tonight, the camp was silent. Perfect.
She slid out from the berry bushes, staying low, crawling on all fours. The rough ground scraped her knees and wrists, but that was better than standing and letting a Watcher's lantern light catch her.
They thought the borders were unbreakable. That no slave could survive beyond them. Maybe they were right, but the fear wasn't about survival. It was about control. One disobedient slave could inspire the rest, and the masters wouldn't risk another riot.
Even speaking freely was banned. Just a handful of words a day. Lily was one of the few who dared to talk to Sil, always in hushed tones when no one was looking.
Sil crept past the Better Chambers. Beyond them lay a hidden stream, its water crystal-clear beneath the moonlight. Cold. Fresh. Alive. Nothing like the gray sludge they were given in the mess hall. Most slaves didn't even know it was here.
She dipped her hands into the current, savoring the icy bite against her skin, then crouched low and stepped in. The water wrapped around her, pulling her forward. She let it carry her. It was the fastest way to the palace.
Ding!
A soft chime echoed in her mind. A translucent panel appeared before her eyes.
Achievement Unlocked: Stream Strider
+1 XP
Sil barely glanced at the glowing text before it faded. It wasn't the first time she'd earned it, and the +1 meant nothing. The master's system would strip it away before morning.
She pulled herself onto the bank by the palace wall, shaking water from her hair, then froze.
Voices.
Not Watchers.
She flattened into the grass, heart thudding. Beyond the graveyard fence stood a carriage. Half a dozen slaves she recognized were digging, their faces pale in the moonlight. Beside them, hooded figures unloaded heavy sacks from the cart.
A faint yellow glow shimmered around their necks.
Level Threes.
Sil's breath caught. They never came inside the borders. Never.
Then another thought hit her, colder than the stream water dripping down her spine.
Why was there even a graveyard? Slaves didn't die, they respawned.
So what were they burying?
A fist clamped around the back of her collar.
She gasped as a Watcher yanked her up and hurled her into the graveyard dirt.
"What's this one doing?" a hooded man asked, his voice muffled but deep.
"Caught her hiding in the grass," the Watcher said. "What should I do with her?"
The hooded man stepped forward, the shadow falling over her. A gloved hand gripped her chin, tilting her face up. "Who are you?"
Sil's mouth was dry. "I… I was sent to dig. I just didn't want to be alone in the dark."
He studied her for a long moment before releasing her. "Give her a shovel."
The Watcher shoved it into her hands. The stench hit her before the first scoop of dirt, rot, and something fouler, heavy enough to taste. Her stomach churned.
Bodies.
Her shovel bit into the ground.
Achievement Unlocked: Grave Digger
+10 XP
Sil's grip tightened. Ten XP. That was more than she earned in weeks of berry-picking, and it came instantly. Her gaze flicked to the sacks. Whatever was inside… it was worth leveling for.
She didn't have time to see. The last grave was sealed, and the men began to leave, until the same hooded man stopped, turned back, and grabbed her wrist.
"I'm buying this one," he said, voice slick with intent.
The Watcher bowed low.
A rough hand closed around her throat, and Sil was dragged toward the carriage.