Laizer rose from the ground and opened his eyes to find himself in an unfamiliar environment. Everything was strange, foreign, but beautiful. He just breathed at the moment. "Beautiful," he whispered, the word came out naturally…the same one he'd murmured before leaving his old life behind. Even in a strange land, wonder dug into him and pulled a smile to his lips.
He stood on a ridge and looked down at a small hamlet nestled in the valley below. He decided to head down and learn the basics about this world. A smile tugged at his lips so brightly. So it had been true, huh? His wish had finally been granted. Now, what he has to do is keep his promise.
He checked the contract, but the paper showed nothing—there were no words, A frown tugged at his brow, How can I fulfill a promise if I can't see what it demands from me, he said half-heartedly. "Looks like I have to wait," and see.
He ran toward the village.
The trail was bumpy; he wasn't very fit, and by the time he reached the outskirts, he was winded.
"Huff… Huff… I'm here at last… Huff…here at last," he wheezed.
The village was crowded. People wore similar clothing—uniforms of a kind. Many of the men carried swords; their jackets and finery looked far more luxurious than what ordinary villagers wore. Laizer concluded they must belong to some faction, some sect. He moved closer to see.
A shocking sight stopped him in his tracks. A man and woman lay motionless on the ground; a severely hurt ten-year-old boy breathed faintly. A young woman in her twenties, clad in almost-faded clothing, was crying and begging the uniformed men not to touch her brother. "Please," she begged, "do not take my brother. I will pay the tax and return the money the minute I get it." She cried, and begged, to them.
His hands were trembling in shock; his chest got heavy. He had always thought that the world he came from was unfair and cruel, but this?—this was worse. The uniformed men belonged to some local sect collecting taxes. They had killed the parents, injured the boy, and were now abusing the girl, while the villagers watched without moving, because the family could not pay. Almost two hundred people had gathered, but no one stepped forward. Fear and authority kept them quiet—just like back home, when individuals and systems put shackles on everyone and the powerful abused the weak.
"Hey, little girl—how much do you think you are worth?" laughed one of the men.
"Maybe some silver at the slave market," another laughed.
"Brother, I have a suggestion, let's kill her brother right here and take her with us for some fun, and after we're done with her, we'll sell her at the slave market," a third suggested with cruel amusement.
How could people be so cruel? They had killed her parents, and now they are planning to destroy her life? Rage was growing in laizer. He knew nothing of this world or its laws and how power works here, but his pride and sense of right and wrong wouldn't let him just stand by.
"Hey bitch, take off your clothes and kneel in front of us—possibly we will not sell you," one of them yelled, laughing with his friends. The girl felt her hope fade. Tears were falling from her eyes, and her voice had disappeared. "Blame someone for the situation you are in right now; blame your parents for giving you birth this," one of the men snapped. "Or blame yourself for being born without money."
Her jaw worked; she would not look away.
"You little bitch—how dare she give that look?" A man spat, rushing at her with a gleaming long sword.
"No—" the crowd murmured.
Before the man could strike, someone shoved him aside. Laizer stepped between the attacker and the girl, pushing the sect disciple off balance. The disciple fell forward, shouting, "Who dares—who dares do this to me?!" He sprang up, voice rough with fury.
Laizer's jaw was already clenched; his expression was getting hardened.
"Who do you think you are? You, little shits," Laizer's voice cut through the square.
The bystanders began to whisper and murmur among themselves, with some predicting the young man's death for involving himself with sect affairs. "Poor guy—he's a dead man already," they said.
Laizer knelt to help the girl stand up. "Get up, and go. You need to get your brother to a doctor—he's been severely injured and bleeding," Laizer's voice was sharp and urgent.
"You're stupid, brother, if you don't run now. "You will also die," the girl said, forcing a slightly bitter smile. "You might survive if you run, now, brother. She said with a brittle voice, Even if we ran, they surely would hunt us down anyway. So what is the point ? 'There's no hope, it's worthless."
Her words hit Laizer like a blade. He flashed back to his past life—his sister on a hospital bed, dying of cancer while doctors delayed treatment at the behest of a richer, more powerful family. He remembered her smiling at him in those final moments. "Silly brother, don't be sad. Live a happy life," she had told him with a fragile smile. He saw that smile now in the tear-streaked face before him.
Something inside him changed. He would not run. Not this time.