Chapter 1: Sarea Nexus
Sarea Nexus woke at 7:00 AM to the sound of an alarm he'd snoozed twice. Twenty-six. Average build. Average face. He worked an average desk job for a tech company that would replace him with a script in five years and call it progress.
He dressed on autopilot. Coffee. Keys. Out the door.
The morning was too pretty for how he felt. Birds cut through the air like they were getting paid by the note. His neighbor across the street lifted a hand, smile soft, unaware. Sarea crossed without looking.
Tires screamed.
A truck swerved past him close enough that the wind knocked him sideways. Beer on the driver's breath even through the glass. The truck corrected at the last second. Sarea didn't get hit. He just stood there while his heart tried to climb out of his chest.
"Jesus," he whispered. A bead of sweat traced his jaw. He made it to the curb and collapsed onto the bench at the bus stop. Hot. Shaking. His hands wouldn't stay still.
Then his chest seized.
Not pain. Pressure. Like someone wrapped his ribs in wire and started twisting. His thoughts fractured. What's happening to me. No way. No fucking way I'm having a heart attack at a bus stop. I have to make it to work. I can't die here. Who's going to look after Mom?
His vision tunneled. Sound bled out until there was only a high, thin whine. Then black. Silence. Nothing.
A small black screen hovered in the void. Red text. No explanation. No mercy.
[Would you like to be transmigrated? Y/N]
Sarea couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. His existence was fraying at the edges, unraveling like a pulled thread. Dying here meant Mom alone. Dying here meant nothing.
"YES. DAMN IT, YES."
Cold. Wet. Something dripped onto his face.
Sarea gasped. Vision blurred, then sharpened on stone and shadow. The floor was ice against his skin. Chains bit into his wrists and ankles, dragging his arms up toward the wall. He was freezing. Hollow with hunger. His mouth tasted like copper and fear.
"Where the hell am I." His voice cracked. "What is this place? Am I in a cage? What's going on?"
"Shut the hell up, fresh meat." The voice came from down the hall, rough as gravel. "All we get here is peace and quiet. Don't waste it."
Chains rattled. Somewhere, a man coughed until it sounded like he'd cough up a lung. Somewhere else, someone cried quietly and gave up halfway through.
Metal shrieked. A door down the hall slammed into stone. BOOM.
"Alright, you filthy pigs. Here's your slop."
A woman in black leather armor with red trim moved from cell to cell. She didn't look at them. Buckets swung through the bars, contents splattering onto the floor. It wasn't food. It was old. Mixed. Rotting. Trash and leftovers stewed together until the smell turned Sarea's stomach.
"Ahh, fuck. What is this shit?"
"It's your food, kid." Drax, the gravel voice. Closer now. "Eat while you can. You won't see much of it here."
Grunts. Moans. Wet, slapping sounds of men fighting over scraps. Chomping. Swallowing. Desperation.
Sarea heaved. He barely made it to his side before vomiting onto the stone. "Aw, god. Bleehhh— no. I can't. Bleehhh."
He wiped his mouth with a shaking hand. "Ughh… Sir? Sir, can you tell me where I am? Please."
"You're in the Enslavement Camp, rodent. Same as the rest of us. This is your life now." Drax's voice was tired, not cruel. "Best you can hope for is some noble buying you. Won't be better. Just different chains. Don't get your hopes up. Eat. You'll need it."
Sarea stared at the pile of filth. Then at his own hands, still shaking. He slumped against the wall and dug out a half-eaten apple, brown at the edges. Crunch. He forced himself to chew. To swallow. To stay alive.
He tried again, quieter. "Sir… can I ask your name?"
"Sure, kid. Name's Drax. Been here longer than I can count. Know the ins and outs." A pause. The rattle of chains. "What about you, fresh meat? What's your name?"
Sarea thought about it. Decided secrets wouldn't keep him alive. "Sarea Nexus. Old timer. Appreciate the info. This is… all new to me."
He pulled his knees to his chest, back against the cold stone. Eyes fluttering shut. Sleep wouldn't come easy with the cold biting through him, with chains clanking, with rough coughs and muffled sobs echoing down the hall. But exhaustion won anyway.
He drifted off to the sound of men trying not to break.