Time passed slowly.
The old man and Mantes sat on a small wooden bench.
Mantes tried to eat the lunch.
It was barely food.
A tiny piece of old bread. Hard, dry, almost rotten.
A small cup of water. Cold. Bitter. Barely enough to drink.
Mantes held the bread in his hands and looked at it.
He wanted to puke.
This was… barely food. Nothing like what he was used to.
In his world… he could eat freely. Water flowed from taps. Food came fresh every day.
He forced a few bites down.
The old man didn't look at him. He ate slowly, carefully.
Mantes whispered, "Bread… water… that's it?"
The old man shrugged. "This is all we get. Be grateful it exists."
Mantes shook his head.
Grateful? He couldn't.
Barely enough to survive… and yet they called it "grateful"?
Suddenly, a loud gong echoed through the mine.
The sound rattled the stone walls.
"Stop eating!" a voice barked.
Workers froze.
Even Mantes' hands hung in the air.
A group of guards walked in. Behind them… a priest.
White robes, gold embroidery. Eyes sharp, face calm.
He carried a staff and a thick book.
The guards shouted, "All miners! Stop! Priest has arrived! Come and listen!"
Mantes blinked.
A priest? Here? In the mine?
The old man shook his head. "They come sometimes. Preach… tell us to be obedient. To be humble. To be grateful."
Mantes frowned. "Grateful? For what? For being treated like this?"
The old man didn't answer. He just nodded toward the line of miners, already moving to sit in rows before the priest.
Mantes looked at the priest. Something about him felt… cold.
The words in the priest's book were loud, but Mantes didn't understand.
Still, he noticed how everyone listened carefully. Fear in their eyes.
He chewed his old bread, water dripping down his chin, and whispered to himself, "…This world… it's so… wrong."
And in that moment, Mantes realized,
The world he was in… was nothing like the one he remembered.
The bell had rung, and all the miners stopped working.
They were gathered in a wide, dusty space.
Mantes looked around.
Men, women, even children. All in rags.
Some looked sick. Sunken eyes, thin arms, malnourished.
Some… looked stronger, even with little food.
"Does this world's human body… work differently?"
The priest appeared at the front.
Mantes' eyes widened.
The man's body… was shining. A soft, golden glow ran along his robes.
The other slaves stared at him with awe, as if he were some god.
Mantes squinted. It look like Cheap party tricks… but is this magic?
The priest was almost obese.
His belly clearly full. He didn't looked like Christianity or any other religion priest. He was bit different, Perhaps this world has different god?
And… he smelled. Mantes sniffed subtly.
Food. Sweet food. Rich, heavy.
"How… how can I smell it from here?"
Perhaps this body's nose was sharp.
The priest lifted his arms.
The glow intensified.
He opened his book.
And then… he began to speak.
But not harshly.
Not like the guards. Not like someone yelling.
His voice was soft. Gentle. Smooth.
"Children of the stone. Workers of the earth. Listen. Listen to the words of the chosen. The path of obedience brings peace. The path of defiance brings suffering. You are blessed to labor… for those who care for you."
The slaves leaned forward, mesmerized.
Some whispered to each other.
Some bowed their heads.
Mantes frowned.
Care for them? He looked at their thin arms, their hungry eyes.
If that's care… then what is cruelty?
He shifted uncomfortably.
The priest smiled at the crowd.
"The work you do… the sweat you give… it is not meaningless. Every stone you strike… every drop of labor… strengthens the order of this world. You are safe, if you obey."
Mantes glanced at the elderly man.
The old man's face was calm, neutral.
He didn't flinch, but his eyes watched Mantes closely.
Mantes whispered to himself.
Safe…? He looked around. Fear in the eyes of the others.
If this is safe… then I don't want to be safe.
The priest gestured.
The golden glow shimmered across his robes.
He bent slightly, lowering his voice even more.
"You may wonder… why some go hungry. Why some suffer. It is not your concern. The masters above decide. Trust in them, and you shall be rewarded."
Mantes stared at the priest.
His glowing robes. His smooth voice.
His words about "safety" and "obedience."
He's faking it, Mantes thought.
Nothing divine.
He swallowed and whispered something no slave would dare to say, in innocent made up voice.
"Who… who are these masters you keep talking about?"
A hush fell over the miners. Eyes widened. Some trembled.
The priest smiled slowly.
It was a wide, almost cruel smile.
"Ah… it seems we have a curious… and naive… and simple soul among us."
Mantes blinked. Simple soul?
The priest's voice carried a hint of amusement, as if he were doing Mantes a huge favor.
"You wish to know, little one?" he said. "Very well. I shall tell you… for your curiosity is… unusual. A rare gift, perhaps."
The priest straightened. His glow flickered like a candle.
"The world is ruled by the Emperor. The Emperor commands all kingdoms, all lands, all people. He protects the empire from enemies beyond our borders."
He paused. The slaves leaned closer, some whispering to each other.
"Below the Emperor are the nobles. Lords and ladies of the land. They govern cities, mines, and villages. They have power over the people… as it should be. Obedience is their right, and your duty is to obey."
Mantes frowned. So… nobles… like local rulers. It's same as my world's history…
The priest raised his hand, smiling. "But there is more. There are others… magical beings, called the Pillars of the Empire. They are Ancient creatures, loyal to the Emperor. They are the foundation of our strength. Their power is beyond comprehension. They enforce law, protect the empire, and punish traitors."
He let the words sink in. The slaves shivered slightly.
"Your lives are small. Your pains… real, but necessary. The masters above… the Emperor, the nobles, the Pillars… they ensure order. They protect you from chaos, from outside threats, from war."
Mantes' jaw tightened.
Protect us? From what? From them?
The priest looked down at Mantes, glowing and smiling.
"Curious one… you have questions. Most slaves… know nothing. They fear the unknown and obey. But you… you dare to think."
He let the words linger.
"And that… is a rare gift. Perhaps one day… you may learn the ways of this world. But for now… obey. Work. Listen. Survive."
Mantes frowned, looking at the priest.
He hesitated, then asked, in a low voice, almost trembling:
"Why… why is there a hierarchy? Why can't everyone be equal?"
A hush fell over the gathered miners.
Some mouths opened, then closed. Fear in their eyes.
The priest froze for a moment.
A faint shadow of annoyance crossed his face.
He clearly had not expected anyone to ask a question.
He raised a hand, pointing the glowing book toward the miners.
"Ah… you wish to know, little one?" he said, his voice calm but sharp.
"This… this is written by the divine. By God. It is His will. The order you see… the hierarchy… it is defined by heaven itself."
Mantes blinked. He glanced at the book.
He noticed the words… somehow they didn't match what the priest was saying.
He frowned. This is… misinterpreted. He's twisting it.
The priest's eyes narrowed. He looked at Mantes.
"You see, curiosity is rare. Most do not ask. Most obey. And that is how it should be."
The old man near Mantes shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing.
Mantes whispered to himself, quietly, almost to be lost among the crowd:
It says… it says something else entirely… it doesn't say hierarchy, it says everyone is valued…
The priest, noticing him muttering, glared.
He raised the book higher, pointing toward the miners.
"You see this?" he said. "The words of God! You cannot read? That is why you must obey!"
Mantes' heart pounded.
I can read… I can read…