Chapter 1: New beginnings

Chapter 1: New beginnings

"Get on yer feet, you worthless scum. Feedin' time for y'all, better'n you deserve.

Scrambling up from the floor, half awake, I manage to avoid Gortan's boot out of pure reflex. Kick me awake enough times and that'll happen. Don't look at him. Eyes down, feet moving. Don't give him an excuse. Fall in line with the other slaves, there's safety in assimilation. I ignore the pain from all my half healed cuts and bruises. The line moves quickly, and when it's my turn, I take my bowl of tasteless brown slop and my hard biscuits, and I scurry away. I find a spot to drink my slop and break my teeth in peace. This is my life now. Or it has been for the last two weeks.

My name is Rayne, and I'm a slave. I wasn't always a slave. I just woke up two weeks ago with the worst hangover I've ever had, listening to someone drone on about my good traits. I used to work in a call center. I lived in a studio apartment. I had a family, friends, and a dog. I can remember that much. Now, I can't remember what any of them looked like, or anything we did together. But I remember having them. I remember their existence. It's like waking from a nice dream. You remember the dream, and know you enjoyed it, but you try to think about the specifics, and nothing is there. The more you struggle to remember, the more it slips away, until all that's left is a sense of loss, and the memory of a memory.

Which, in this instance, is made all the worse by the fact that my reality is utter horseshit.

The reality of it is this: I am a twelve year old slave. I was older before, but here, in this body, I'm twelve. Or at least that's what the slaver who sold me claimed. I can remember that much. 'Unnamed, Twelve years old, good health, all teeth present, light brown eyes, dark hair'. The sum total of my selling features. I feel like he could have jazzed it up a bit. There are no other memories, not from this body at least. All I can remember is being sold, and then a short trip up to the pen, where I now reside. New me didn't even have a name. Blank slate.

I'm slowly forgetting most of my first life too. It would bother me more if I knew what I was forgetting. I can still read and write English, but I can't read Common Script, (the dominant language around here, which I speak, thanks to the new memories). The script just looks like moon runes to me. There's another language I can speak as well, but I don't have a name for it. I just think of what I want to say, and the language I want to say it in, and the words come out. If I don't think about it, I default to English. I can do math, but that's less than helpful. When I tried to tell the guards, I was ignored. Then I was beaten when I kept trying. Assholes.

I wander over to the gate and sit down. Work will start soon. Work at the mines. I'm a minor miner. I'd laugh, but it isn't funny. Fill the basket with rocks. Empty the basket into the cart. Repeat. Do that all day. Then dinner, which is more slop and bread, and sleep. Wake at dawn and it all starts again. Sprinkle in a few beatings for various reasons, and that's how my last two weeks have been.

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I lay my head down on the dirt floor of the shack. Another exhausting day gone by. Another beating, this time for not getting out of the guard's way quick enough. I don't think I have all my teeth anymore. I don't think I can go on like this. I need to escape. I need to be free. Run away. Or maybe I can just kill myself. Reincarnate. Re-roll. That's how this works right? I did it once. Maybe this time, I'll meet God and I can start off with a cheat. Or at least a better job than slave. Maybe a prince, or a nobleman's son. An adventurer, traveling around as a warrior or a wizard. Shit, I'll settle for being a villager.

I wipe my face, tears stinging the cuts on my hands. Crying won't help. Neither will giving up. I'll get through this. I will. I have to. I can do this. I'll escape while everyone is working in the mines. Or I can wake up early and run for it. They don't chain us up and the fence is made of wood. How hard can it be to pry a few boards loose? I can do this. I can come up with a plan. Everyone thinks I'm twelve. I have the benefit of experience. I can escape. I'm a Reincarnator. Then I'll kill all the guards and level up. Get my Unique Skill. Make them regret being born.

I repeat everything I know about myself. I used to live in an apartment. I had a family. I had friends. I had a dog. I don't belong here. I repeat it to myself, like a mantra, trying to hold onto who I was.

My name is Rayne. And I will not be a slave forever.