Chapter 5
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 05
Chapter Title: Underground Farm (1)
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"Bran. I'm here."
Kael found Bran during lunchtime.
Bran was scooping up his mixed stew porridge as if nothing had happened.
"There you are. Did you wash your pants okay?"
"Huh? Why my pants?"
"You pissed yourself when you passed out yesterday. Don't you remember?"
"W-what? For real?!"
Kael's face flushed bright red.
He frantically checked his pants, but nothing seemed off.
After fully enjoying Kael's fidgeting, Bran chuckled and waved him off.
"Just kidding. You actually fell for it."
"......Not funny at all."
"Anyway, glad to see you're still breathing. Looks like everyone got the message about my good intentions."
"Yeah. They're super grateful. They said they'd come say thanks after work since they'd be dead without you."
Kael smiled.
All the escapees had survived except for the two who fled first.
Their bruises hurt, but compared to the joy of being alive, it was nothing.
"What thanks? Tell them to just rub some eggs on the bruises."
"Haha, fair enough. So why'd you call me here?"
"Right, almost forgot."
Slurp. Bran finished the last of his porridge and stood up.
"Astreia."
"Huh?"
"That name. Ring any bells?"
Bran asked.
It was about time to tell him.
Kael blinked blankly for a moment before shaking his head.
"No. First time hearing it."
"Huh? No way. Really?"
"Yeah. But it feels... kinda familiar."
Kael pressed a hand to his forehead like he had a headache.
Bran's eyes narrowed.
Anyone else might not know, but Kael had no excuse.
'Did he lose his memories or something?'
There seemed to be some circumstances.
Kael continued, still clutching his forehead.
"......Can't say. It feels like it's on the tip of my tongue, but it won't come. Who's Astreia?"
"Not a person. It's a family name. One of the noblest bloodlines on the continent."
There was even a playable character by that name.
The Radiant Holy Knight Astreia.
Her image, scattering the light of the gods as she faced evil, was still vivid in his mind.
'Great looks and performance. Solid story too.'
Bran had played her himself, of course.
She was beautiful, and the holy knight concept was appealing.
Her unique buff was so powerful she shone more in parties than solo play.
Yeah. That drool-worthy buff.
"I see... So why bring it up out of nowhere?"
"You're from that family."
"......What?"
"Kael. You're a member of the Astreia Family."
Kael froze.
A natural reaction. Bran had been shocked too when he realized it from the Nameless Hero's memories.
Her golden hair and blue eyes that shone in any situation, and the lingering holy power even after death—they were proof.
The biggest clue was the easter egg he found while playing Radiant Holy Knight.
"W-wait. What do you mean? I was a slave even before coming here. No memories of hanging out in some fancy place...!"
"Eh, there must be circumstances. Anyway, that's not the important part right now."
Bran cut the conversation short.
It was a long, complicated story. He could explain the details later.
"Kael. Satisfied with life as it is?"
"Uh, umm?"
"You asked me yesterday. You got lucky and survived, but is that really enough?"
"......No."
Kael shook his head.
His face darkened, probably recalling the corpses from morning.
"Yeah, figured. First things first, you wanna escape this beggar slave life. But don't worry about that. Like I promised last night, I'm getting you out of here for sure."
"Huh?"
"We're escaping together, right? Thought I was joking?"
"N-no... not that. How do we even escape?"
"Got a plan. Won't take too long. Three months tops."
Kael's eyes widened.
Hope glistened in his big round eyes.
Good. Hooking nicely.
"But the real issue is after. What then?"
"Well..."
"Be honest. You haven't thought that far. Just planning the escape is headache enough—smart call. Nothing shameful there. The real shame is wasting your potential."
"Potential...?"
"Exactly what I said. Kael Astreia. You're different from the others."
Bran gripped Kael's shoulders.
"If things stay like this, post-escape life is one of two paths. Trailing punks like Mog who can throw punches, or back to slavery. First one's better, but the second could land you with an owner so awful you'd miss this fortress. And you're too good-looking—extra risky."
"......Awful owner?"
"Variety's the spice. Could be cleaning wyvern teeth as a pet toy. Or sex slave to a ninety-year-old granny. Might be an uncle or grandpa instead."
"N-no way."
Kael paled.
The worst futures imaginable flickered behind his eyes.
"Right? So I'll help make sure that doesn't happen. Do the tasks I assign starting today, and by escape time, you'll be someone worthwhile."
"Tasks?"
"Yeah. Pray three times a day. Morning, lunch, evening. Close your eyes, clasp hands, earnestly wish for what you truly want."
"......That's it?"
"That's it."
Seemed too simple for awakening holy power.
But natural for an Astreia Family member.
"One condition though."
"What?"
"Pray only to the Morning Goddess Raweina. Ignore all other gods."
He said it dead serious, smile gone.
Didn't want to imagine what praying to another god might do.
"Can you do it?"
"Yeah. Not hard. Of course, but..."
"Hm?"
"Honestly, I'm lost. Everything's so sudden... Me, from that family...?"
Kael muttered.
His face dripped with confusion from the info overload.
But only for a moment.
Kael clenched his fist with a resolute expression.
"Still, I'll do it. Because it's you, Bran."
"Good call."
"I'd do worse if you asked. You saved my life."
Bran smirked.
Trust sparkled in those blue eyes.
Saving a life bridged hearts fast.
"How do you know all this?"
"Ways and means. Don't sweat the details."
Not like they'd believe "I tried it myself."
Ding-! Ding-! Ding-!
The lunch bell rang.
"Whoa, gotta go. Need more crown turnip leaves?"
"Still good. Get back before you get hit."
"Yeah. See ya later. And..."
Kael trailed off and grabbed Bran's hands.
"Really, thank you. I survived yesterday because of you."
"No big deal."
"I'll never forget this favor. Whatever I can do, just say it."
"Just keep up the prayers. Dead serious."
Bran laughed.
Kael kept thanking him as he headed back to work.
Don't know where to put myself. Plenty of reasons for me to thank him later anyway.
"Alright. That should do for Kael..."
Bran muttered, hoe over his shoulder.
Secured the lucky break named Kael. Time to level up his own specs.
Felt it fighting Mog yesterday: for fast growth, push himself to extremes more than now.
Deep in thought, Bran nodded.
"Should be fine."
He had a plan.
Just wait now.
The opportunity came three days later in the morning.
"Supervisor! Supervisor!"
Gray clouds blanketed the sky.
Bran was enjoying the rare cool weather while hauling fertilizer.
Mid-lift of five bags at once, a frantic shout rang out.
"Huh?"
The pacing supervisor turned toward the noise.
All the slaves, Bran included, looked over.
Three slaves were running from afar. Two supporting one.
All wore masks made from torn cloth.
'That's...'
Bran's eyes widened.
Familiar outfit from the game.
Slaves working the Underground Farm beneath the fortress.
The supported man's shoulders heaved nonstop.
"Hic, heehee... hic!"
"Snap out of it! You're gonna be okay now!"
"Heek! Heheheek!"
The man was laughing.
His face a mess of tears, snot, and drool.
Pale as death, but the mad laughter wouldn't stop.
"Haa... broken again?"
The supervisor sighed at the sight.
The field slaves started murmuring.
Only Bran stayed calm, understanding the situation.
The slaves arrived soon.
"He suddenly convulsed during work!"
"He was foaming earlier! We need antidote!"
The supporters blurted out.
The supervisor clicked his tongue.
"Tch. Cut the hysterics unless you want a beating. You're all newbies except him, right?"
"Uh, y-yes, but..."
"Set him down."
The supervisor ordered firmly.
The slaves glanced at each other but obeyed.
Thud!
The man pitched forward as soon as they let go.
"Oh god, are you oka—"
"Hehe, hee. Supervisor!"
Before his buddy could finish worrying, the man snapped his head up.
Forehead gashed deep on a rock.
Blood mixed with saliva poured out.
Yet the grin never faded—utterly grotesque.
"Supervisor... hehe, I-I can still work! Please, spare me!"
He crawled forward, kowtowing.
But the supervisor's reply was ice cold.
"Doubt your body agrees."
"Kihihi! Th-this...!"
His scrawny limbs spasmed like electrocuted.
Couldn't handle even the easiest labor like that.
"Get up by the count of ten. Can't? You're done."
"H-heehee... no, no..."
"One."
The supervisor raised his club.
Drool doubled from the man's face.
He tried standing repeatedly, but his legs gave out each time.
"Heeheet, hehe! Mercy! Please show mercy!"
"Five."
No matter how he begged, the countdown continued.
The laughter persisted amid it all.
As he collapsed from his final try and clutched the supervisor's pant leg—
"Mercy..."
"Ten."
Countdown over.
The club smashed into his forehead.
Crack-!!
A dull rupture echoed.
"Gasp."
"Urk."
Shocked cries erupted everywhere.
Some slaves clamped mouths to hold back vomit.
The supervisor shook blood from his club.
The man's skull caved in deep.
Clear brain matter oozed from the shattered cracks.
"Drag it away."
The supervisor said flatly, like asking for salt.
His escorts trembled as they collected the corpse.
Noticing the halted work around, the supervisor bellowed.
"You vermin! Show's over! Don't wanna end up like that? Back to work!"
"S-sorry!"
The slaves scurried back in terror.
Still fuming, the supervisor slumped on a stump.
He muttered, clutching his forehead.
"......Screwed. Delivery's soon."
Quiet, but clear.
His eyes, unmoved during the killing, now quivered.
Now's the chance.
Bran, words ready, shot up his hand.
"I'll do it."
"What?"
"You need Underground Farm replacements. I'll fill the spot of the guy who just died."
The supervisor's brow furrowed viciously.
The look before a beating.
But Bran didn't back down.
He'd been waiting for this since realizing this was Black Stone Fortress.
'Gotta get in.'
Heart of the Crow Bandits—and their main cash cow.
Where the so-called hidden piece slept.
Transfer to Underground Farm was key to the escape plan.