I was lying in a hole as two men watched me from above. They looked wary for some reason. As I tried to stand, something heavy pressed me back down — as if the very air had thickened. My shoulders and ribs ached. Gritting my teeth, I focused on my mana sense, barely holding onto consciousness. My eyes watered from pain and dust.
This time, I could feel it with certainty: one of the men was releasing a large amount of mana into the air above me.
As I struggled, the taller one picked up a shovel and started covering me with dirt.
They were trying to bury me alive.
What sick bastards.
What had I done to deserve this? Think. Think. There must be a way out.
I tried to focus on the mana inside me — the same presence I first sensed after eating that juicy corn — but it was no use. The soil was up to my neck, with my eyes and nose exposed. Dust choked me, and my vision blurred. The air was so heavy. In desperation, I shouted:
"Let me go, you son of a %%%%%! What the hell did I even do?"
Some dirt got into my mouth — it tasted awful.
They hesitated for a moment at my outburst, but then continued even more aggressively. I could only breathe through my nose now — and even that was hard, with one nostril blocked. I wasn't sure if the man had stopped shoveling or if I had lost track of what was happening. They buried me deep.
Then, suddenly, the pressure lifted.
The shorter man helped me to my feet. Even though he was shorter among the two, he still stood at least a head taller than me.
As I wiped dirt and dust from my eyelids, I saw him watching me with a half-smile and a strange expression. Then he extended his hand and said something I didn't understand: "** **** ** ******." I shook his hand anyway, confused and furious. Anger, disgust, and the echo of desperation still rang in my head.
He pointed at himself and said, "Marsel," then pointed at the other guy and said, "Varren."
So that first sentence must have been some kind of introduction.
Then he pointed at me and asked, "**** ** **** ****?"
I guessed he was asking for my name.
I hesitated, then said, "Saul."
They both gave me a small bow. The taller one helped me out of the hole, while Marsel jumped out with ease. They looked me over for a moment. Varren gave me a solid pat on the back. He pointed to Marsel and then walked away in the other direction.
I caught up with Marsel, adjusting my pace to match his. We were walking behind the cornfield, toward the road leading to the village. My thoughts raced: Should I run? Can I even run away? Marsel had already shown he could control mana — he could crush me without lifting a finger.
Alright. Let's think.
Back at the village hall, I was sipping water. Out of nowhere, I sensed a weird foreign mana spike in my mouth. Then, the water went down the wrong pipe. Was that the elderly man's doing? Did he attack me? But why?
Was it because I signaled that I couldn't hear to the girl's father? No — that gesture could've meant anything. I don't understand. Still… this world isn't Earth. Things are different.
No, it's too small a reason. Were they… assessing me?
Ugh. I don't know.
And now I'm filthy. I'd die for a proper bath.
We finally reached the village. The elder (the village head) was waiting for us.
He nodded slightly at Marsel and spoke with him briefly, glancing at me now and then. After a moment, he sighed, shook Marsel's hand, and gestured for me to follow.
I looked at Marsel. He made some gesture I didn't understand, then turned and headed toward the bar.
I followed the old man. At first, I thought we were heading to a village hall, but we passed it. Eventually, we arrived at a wooden, two-story house. The man tried the door — he found it locked. A few moments later, an older woman opened it from the inside.
We stepped in, and the couple exchanged a brief kiss in greeting.
The woman studied my face for a few seconds, then asked the old man a question.
Later, I lay in a big room. It had some furniture and four single beds. The beds were set up side by side, facing the door and window. I was in the one closest to the entrance, thinking about the shower I had taken.
They actually had a proper shower space with a working tap — the water was cold, but I didn't care. I was grateful to finally wash off the mix of sweat and dirt that clung to me like slime.
Wait, why am I even thinking about the shower?
What the hell happened to me?
Why?
What's going to happen tomorrow… or while I'm asleep?
I didn't have any satisfying answers. Eventually, sleep took me anyway.