Slave Life in Mortus
The lives of slaves in Mortus began at the crack of dawn.
Dragging our exhausted bodies, we headed to the outskirts of the safe zone.
For all sorts of reasons, people had to venture outside Mortus, teeming with monsters. Those who handled the insanely dangerous jobs like gathering supplies, scouting, and exploration were called explorers.
And naturally, I wasn't one of them. I was a slave.
Our job was cleaning the sewers on the outskirts.
I grabbed my nameplate, cleaning tools, and an iron rod for self-defense like it was routine, then headed into the sewers.
The path I took led to the South Sewer. Compared to the North, monsters didn't spawn as much here, so it was mostly slaves working this area.
On the flip side, the fucking dangerous North was left to death row inmates.
As I slipped into the sewer, a bunch of deadbeat faces greeted me. The South Sewer regulars.
Not actual civil servants, of course—just the guys you saw every damn day.
"You're slow as shit, like you're not even a man."
A woman so ugly she could pass for an orc sneered at me. Bornien, the barbarian from the northern wilds. Sure, she called herself a barbarian warrior, but she was just a 13th grade slave like me.
"Tsk tsk, this is why Kardin are a problem."
Fuck.
Even barbarians spat on us. Black hair marked the Kardin, a minority race on the continent with a shitty reputation.
I bowed my head low and got to scrubbing the sewer. Slack off and get caught in a surprise inspection by the overseers, and no Magic Stone for you. Had to hustle.
A full day of this netted about two Magic Stones.
Slaves made money in all sorts of ways—hunting monsters, fighting in the arena, or cleaning sewers like me.
Most picked sewers, though. The monsters here weren't your typical fantasy slop.
Sure, I could handle the ones that showed up. No loot from bashing them was the real bitch, though.
As I cleaned, a bell tolled from the opposite direction.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding!
Monster alert in the sewers.
Me and the nearby slaves snatched our rods and bolted toward the sound. Miss the golden window to kill it, and we were fucked.
"Fuck! Hurry up!"
"Outta the way, you dickless pricks!"
Femi boss bitch Bornien and the South Sewer vet slaves knew the drill—they raced to the bell like pros.
Pick the monster from this world's sewers:
1. Goblin
2. Slime
3. Chimera
4. Darkness-Eating Small Worm
As you guessed, the answer's 4.
"Gaaahhh!!! Save me!!!!"
A slug-like worm the size of a big dog was tentacling some slave. Its translucent body let you see right through—tiny star-like grains sparkling inside.
"Gaaahhh!!!"
Slaves charged with rods raised. It started as a Darkness-Eating Small Worm, but give it time and it'd turn into a fucking huge one.
I gripped my rod and rushed in too.
-Shiiiik!!!
The worm sensed the attack and lashed tentacles.
Splaaash!!!! Shit!
Splash! Splash!
But we all rolled pro-style, dodging the tentacles.
"Haaahhh!!!"
Clang-! Clang-! Clang-!
DPS window open—we beat the shit out of it mercilessly. Like pounding a rug. Clang-! Clang-!
"Die!"
I swung my rod like a maniac too.
-Shiiiik!!!
The worm's body bubbled, then tentacles burst out. Its turn now.
"Dodge!"
Someone yelled, but we were already clear.
Splaaash!!!!
Dodge the whipping tentacles, swarm back, group bash with rods. Rinse and repeat ten times—the worm dissolved into light and vanished.
"Dismissed!"
With that, slaves scattered back to posts. Sewer cleaning wasn't a one-day gig—quick and clean.
Fuck.
I wiped sweat, thinking. Slave life meant constant cursing.
Work like a dog, hand all rewards to the owner. Reasons slaves couldn't rebel? Two.
One: slave seal branded on us. Pay up, and it comes off.
Two: nowhere to run.
The seal's compulsion was weak—no attacking the master, tracks your location. That's it.
Even if you ran, it's inside Mortus. No escape in this shithole city.
Breach the barrier into the Erosion Zone? Monster chow.
'Miss you, Mom….'
Scrubbing the wall, Mom popped into my head outta nowhere.
What would she say seeing her son slaving in this world? Korea wasn't rich, but paradise next to this.
"Haa…."
Future looked bleak. Apocalypse-fucked world.
Best job I could aim for? Explorer.
What do they do? Dive Erosion Zones, kill monsters for Magic Stones, snag gear and relics.
Life truly fucked.
'….'
Next morning, I woke to some indescribable feeling. Maybe it was all a dream.
Wake up in my hazy-memory old studio apartment? Mortus year two now.
Time to quit the happy delusions.
Up early for chow—eat then sewers.
Mortus had rations, even for bottom-tier 13th grade scum like me.
Just breakfast, though. No lunch or dinner.
Left the drafty barn for Mortus streets.
Crumbling stone-and-wood shacks on collapse's edge. Pre-Maze Break, sky ships flew or some shit—now pure medieval hell.
Apocalypse hit thirty years back, right?
Hooded my ragged cloak to hide black hair, headed to rations. Thought of shaving it, but barn's too cold—hair insulates.
"Next!"
Bit into the black nutrition bar—god knows what. No chunks, thank fuck.
Then an alley moan I couldn't ignore.
"Ahh! Ahhn!"
Peeked—Regi, Mortus's best girl, banging a fatass.
Regi, Mortus's Best Girl.
"But is that true?"
Mortus's Best Girl Regi asked the tubby.
"What?"
"The church coming today."
"Yeah, my cousin works comms."
I doubted my ears.
The church. Reason this shit world held: Magic Stones. Offer to god, swap for whatever equal value.
Church!
God!
Best part: free bread every visit!
Fuck!!!! My mood matched Regi's moans right now.
Bread. Humanity's peak invention.
Mouth watering already. Church yearly—first bite after starving? Still vivid.
Fuck, energy surging.
Church: insane force punching through Erosion Zones. Meant nearby zones safer when they came.
One job: loot worthwhile shit from Erosion Zone.
Yearly, slaves too struck gold with relics, life-reversing.
"Black-hair looks happy today."
South Sewer vet Rahn tilted his head at me.
"Fuck, church coming today."
"Wh-what?! Church!!!!"
Rahn looked ready to flip.
"Church…?"
"Church…!"
"Church!!!"
Nearby slaves' eyes bulged at the word.
"Fuck, I'm escaping slavery finally!"
Rahn grinned.
"Hey, black-hair—is that for real?"
Even femi boss Bornien asked, incredulous.
Ding-! Ding-! Ding-!
Bell tolled far off.
"Fuck, go!!!!!"
"Gotta wrap quick today!!!!"
South Sewer slaves charged rods-up like cavemen spotting mammoth haunch.