Erosion Zone Slave
Erosion Zone. I'm a slave. Owner is 10th Grade citizen Ornil. Bald. Former martial artist. Fucking bastard. He looked to be in a good mood today.
That meant I could sneak a few magic stones without issue.
Smack!Smack!
"Fuck! You black-haired shit!!!"
Sure enough, the whip lashes felt oddly weak today. The reason? It was church day.
They called it the "Day of Divine Descent" because the church handed out goods based on citizen rank. Of course, for a 13th Grade like me, it was just rock-hard bread.
But more importantly, it meant we could enter the Erosion Zone. Mortus used to be a massive city, far bigger than now. These days, we scraped by in maybe a thirtieth of it. In simple terms, the eroded outskirts swallowed up by the zone were packed with relics and goodies from the continent's golden age.
That's why explorers risked death to dive in. But if the church swept through with their "purification rites," wiping out nearby erosion and monsters?
Yeah. Even someone like me, who wouldn't normally make it back alive, had a shot at least once.
"The church is hereeeee!!!!!"
Someone's shout rang out, and the massive doors groaned open.
Rumble-rumble-ruuuuumble—!!!
Holy knights in gleaming white armor led the way, followed by priests. 'Whoa...' Pure awe escaped me. Unlike Mortus's ragtag residents—every last one a beggar—they were flawless from head to toe.
Soon enough, the church started distributing food and supplies. I lined up at the spot marked "13th Grade," and yeah, our queue looked the dirtiest by far.
"May the blessings of the divine be with you."
The priest smiled and handed me a loaf of bread. Rock-hard but hefty-looking—mouthwatering stone bread.
"Th-thank you...!"
Holy shit, this was prime stuff. Had my heart ever pounded just looking at food before?
I tore into it with a massive bite.
Crunch!
Dry as hell, no moisture at all. But the flavor? Pure heaven. I carefully worked the crumbly bits with saliva, and a subtle sweetness bloomed.
'Whoa, holy whoa...' Awe was all I could muster. Food this good existed?
Crunch!!!!
Couldn't hold back—I chomped again.
Crunch!! Crunch-crunch.
Tears welled up. If there was a happiness meter, it'd be maxed at 100%.
After days of black nutrient bars and garbage slop, normal food was driving me insane.
Choke.
Mortus soul food, right there. One last bite now. Farewells always suck.
I fought back the tears, savoring it. Teeth ached a bit, but the high was unbeatable.
The south side was packed. The church had come through the southern gate.
Right in front of the sturdy southern walls.
'Fuckin' crowd.'
I'd grabbed an iron rod and a small sack. Others had swords, spears, huge backpacks—everything but the kitchen sink. A few pro explorers mixed in, but mostly civilians. Greed in their eyes, all hunting relics to bump up their citizen rank.
Citizen rank was basically your status in life. Climb higher, and everything got better. Hit 11th Grade, and you could live in a decent house.
"Opening the gates!"
The soldier's shout kicked it off, and the massive gate creaked wide.
Screeeeech—!
Ancient mechanisms ground open at a snail's pace—you could nap and wake up before it finished. But everyone just watched in silence.
Through the gap shimmered the translucent barrier holding back monsters and erosion. Beyond it: the blackened ruins of the city.
Folks started pouring out.
"Remember! We close the gates exactly three days from now!"
Outside was... surprisingly normal. Mortus had been one huge city, after all.
Soaring towers, paved roads instead of dirt, buildings of wood and stone.
Though intact ones were rare.
'...'
Fear mixed with faint hope. The church had cleared "problem" monsters, so everyone here felt safe enough.
This slave hell could end today—or drag on forever. I'd survive. No doubt about it.
...Survive enough to call it a life, anyway, not this slave bullshit.
"Hoo..."
Exhaled and stepped out.
People headed for buildings near the barrier. Smart mindset—check close first. But nah, pointless. Pros already owned that gig; anything good nearby was long gone.
"Move!" "Fucking asshole!"
Some were already scrapping.
Are these idiots brain-dead? Fight later—loot other spots first. Mortus always starved for supplies. Anything decent was gold.
I kept quiet and veered off. Heavily armed explorers looking pro were pushing deeper.
Church cleared small fry, but this was still Erosion Zone. Deeper in, monsters lurked.
I stopped midway.
A few others had the same idea.
Decision time: aim high. Escape slavery, become a regular citizen.
Sure, taxes then—but ten times better than slave life. No shitty barn, no owner skimming every coin.
Slave system was Mortus Management Council turf. Hit the rank, and boom—free citizen, owner or not.
Plus, real jobs. Slaves got sewer scrubbing or gladiator pits—inhuman crap. Citizens? Human work. Explorer if talented, even.
Musing like that, I reached what looked like a family home.
Raiding a building? Scout inside first. Explorers, people, monsters?
Peered through a window: pitch black. Checked others: same darkness.
"Hm..."
Compared to wrecked husks nearby, this one seemed intact. Though plain enough that pros might've skipped it.
Still, you never know. Folks stash emergency cash, right?
Mortus pre-apocalypse? Prime alchemy hub.
Alchemical Coin.
Gold coins from alchemy—uncounterfeitable masterpieces. Pricy as hell.
Click-click.
Door locked.
'...'
Grabbed a nearby rock, chucked it at a distant window.
Crash!!!
Window shattered. I ducked, watched for reaction.
Monster inside might stir at noise. Church got most nearby pests, but only the "annoying" ones.
Game terms: level 90 farm zone minus elites or bosses. Trash mobs still spawn; elites respawn over time.
Slipped in through the broken pane—prodded floor with rod first. Safety first.
Inside? Holy fuck, dark. Crouched low, gripped rod two-handed.
Tapped floor slow, mapping terrain.
Tap-tap... tap-tap...
Crept along till eyes adjusted. Blurry, but close shapes visible.
Moved deliberate, snail-slow. Haste kills.
Then—rod snagged.
Clank!!!
Echo shattered silence. Trap.
Fuckin' vicious thing clamped my rod.
'Shit.'
Stepped on that? Game over.
Rod-turned-axe let me scout: trap right at the door. Diabolical.
Spooked harder now, scanned intense. Cold sweat poured.
Click.
'Broken flower vase.'
Thud-thud.
Nearby: comfy chair, table stacked with books.
Stood cautious, checked a book.
Delicious Bean Dishes
Others? More cookbooks, same vibe.
Nothing useful. Leave for now—grab if zilch else turns up.
That's when—
Step, step.
Footsteps echoed from inside the building.