Prologue
"Fuck."
That one word sums up this world.
Usually, isekai stories make you think of protagonists wielding cheat powers while building harems. But this place is already a total clusterfuck of a world—no such luxuries here.
Know what towers and labyrinths in novels and comics have in common? Fail to conquer them, and a break happens that dooms the world.
That setup gives the protagonist the drive to climb the tower.
But in this world, the break already happened. Hundreds, thousands of monsters and erosion swallowed the continent whole, leaving it in ruins beyond any hope of recovery.
"Fuck, are you kidding me right now?"
Know what happens when a modern guy gets dropped into an apocalyptic medieval world?
"I'm sorry!!!"
He turns into a slave. Immediately.
"You bastard!"
Thwack!
I'd worked like a dog all day but fell short of my quota, so my owner beat me like one.
"You fucking bastard! A 13th Grade citizen!"
Smack! Smack!
"I'm sorry...!"
My owner was a former martial artist—fierce even with his bare hands, but he had real talent for whipping techniques.
The lash hurt like hell. Is this how slaves in the old cotton fields felt?
"You shitty black-haired bastard! Fail again tomorrow, and I'll ship you off to the Erosion Zone!"
"Gasp...! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
I groveled on the floor. The Erosion Zone was a death trap even for top-tier explorers.
"Tsk. No dinner tonight."
"..."
I waited until he clicked his tongue and left, then rummaged in my pocket.
Clink.
Truth was, I'd met the quota. I'd just skimmed some Magic Stones on the sly.
Can't live as a slave forever. Sure, I didn't have the skills to exceed the quota legitimately, so all I could do was take these beatings and tough it out.
Thirty Magic Stones so far. In this world where regular currency had collapsed, everything traded for Magic Stones.
About 150 more, and I'd buy my freedom. A single high-purity one would do the trick, of course.
Two years as a slave in this world taught me one thing: slaves are royally fucked.
My combat power scraped the bottom of the barrel, limiting what stones I could earn. Flee to another city? In this hopeless apocalypse, how many had even survived?
You'd need at least 5th Grade explorer level to think about traveling.
Mine was barely 9th Grade...
'Fucking hell.'
The road ahead felt endless.
If my owner had been a silver-haired amber-eyed elf or a pink-haired mage with tits that stole your focus, maybe I could've endured. But no—reality was a deranged old fucker who looked like a back-alley breeder.
'Fuck...'
I shivered in the chill night air and tried to sleep.