The air hung heavy with the scent of ancient stone and forgotten dreams as David stepped into the Ruins Kingdom. The main city sprawled before him, its cobblestone streets winding like veins through a body long past its prime. Crumbling spires clawed at the bruised sky, their jagged edges whispering tales of a glory faded into dust. Yet, amid the decay, life pulsed. People moved through the streets, their faces alight with smiles that seemed almost unnatural in their uniformity. No trace of technology marred this place—no hum of machines, no flicker of screens. Instead, there was a strange, vibrant peace, a harmony that felt too perfect, too polished, like a mask stretched tight over something festering beneath.
David's boots scuffed against the uneven stones as he walked, his eyes scanning the crowd. Men and women bartered in the market, their laughter ringing like chimes, but there was a rhythm to it, a cadence that felt rehearsed. Children darted through the throng, their giggles bright but fleeting, as though they feared lingering too long in any one place. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, not by eyes but by the city itself, its crumbling walls and shadowed alleys sizing him up, deciding whether he belonged.
As he approached the heart of the city, where the king's castle loomed like a predator crouched atop a hill, a murmur rippled through the crowd. David's gaze snapped to a group of figures striding past, their presence commanding silence. Knights, clad in heavy armor that gleamed with an almost otherworldly sheen, moved with purpose. Their breastplates bore intricate symbols—spirals and runes that pulsed faintly, as if alive. The crowd parted for them, whispers trailing in their wake. "Look, the knights are going," an old woman said, her voice thick with awe. "So brave. So loyal."
David's brow furrowed. Brave? Loyal? The words felt hollow, like a song sung out of tune. He'd seen men like these before—soldiers who wore honor like a cloak, only to shed it when the world wasn't watching. Something about their rigid march, the way their hands rested on sword hilts, set his nerves on edge. He decided to follow, drawn by a gut instinct that told him the truth of this place lay not in its smiling streets but in the shadows these knights cast.
He trailed them at a distance, weaving through the crowd, his heart pounding in his chest. The knights moved toward a squat, unassuming building at the city's edge, its stone walls stained with moss and time. Unlike the vibrant streets, this place was a wound in the city's facade, its windows boarded shut, its door reinforced with iron. As the knights approached, more armored figures emerged from the shadows, their eyes scanning the surroundings with predatory precision. The building was heavily guarded, a fortress within a fortress, and David's instincts screamed that whatever lay inside was not meant for prying eyes.
He crouched behind a crumbling wall, his mind racing. How could he get in? The knights' vigilance was unyielding, their movements synchronized, as if they shared a single mind. Then he remembered something he'd seen earlier in the city—people wielding what they called mana, a shimmering energy that bent reality to their will. He'd watched a merchant conjure a flame to light a stall, a child summon a breeze to lift a kite. Could he do the same? Closing his eyes, he focused, picturing himself unseen, a ghost slipping through the world. Stealth, he thought, and a chill rippled over his skin, like stepping into a cold stream. When he opened his eyes, his hands were gone, his body invisible, swallowed by the air itself.
Shock jolted through him, but there was no time to marvel. Heart hammering, he crept toward the building, slipping past the knights' watchful gazes. The iron door loomed before him, its surface etched with the same runes he'd seen on the knights' armor. He pressed himself against it, half-expecting an alarm to sound, but the door yielded with a groan, and he slipped inside.
The interior was a stark contrast to the city's warmth. A narrow staircase spiraled downward, its steps slick with damp and worn smooth by countless footsteps. The air grew colder, heavier, as if the building itself were exhaling despair. David descended, each step echoing in the suffocating silence, his invisibility a fragile shield against whatever waited below. The deeper he went, the more the world seemed to close in, the walls narrowing, the darkness thickening until it felt like a living thing, pressing against his skin.
At the bottom, the staircase opened into a labyrinth of stone corridors, their walls lined with iron-barred cells. The sight hit David like a blow to the chest. People huddled within, their bodies frail, their clothes torn to rags. Chains clinked softly as they shifted, their eyes dull with hopelessness. Some bore bruises, others open wounds, their skin marked by cruelty's careless hand. The air reeked of sweat and fear, a stench that clawed at David's throat. These were not criminals, he realized—these were prisoners, stripped of dignity, of light, of any reason to believe in tomorrow.
A flicker of movement caught his eye. At the corridor's end, a faint glow pulsed, casting long shadows that danced like specters. David crept closer, his invisibility holding, though he felt its edges fraying, as if the darkness itself were tugging at his spell. Two figures stood in the light—a knight, his armor gleaming, and another, taller, his presence radiating authority. The captain, David realized, his voice low but sharp, like a blade drawn across stone.
"Captain, we have 150 slaves now," the subordinate said, his tone clipped, efficient. "The auction is in two days. We need to prepare."
The captain's lips curled into a smile that held no warmth. "We'll manage. Select the young women, heal them, make them presentable. And if you want to… have fun with them before we sell, go ahead. Just don't touch the red-haired girl. She's a special asset. The king himself requested her."
David's blood turned to ice. The words sank into him, each one a shard of glass. Slaves. Auctions. The casual cruelty in the captain's voice was a poison, seeping into the air, tainting everything it touched. He wanted to scream, to tear the bars from the cells and set these people free, but he forced himself to stay still, to listen, to understand the full scope of this horror.
The captain's gaze flicked toward a nearby cell, and he strode toward it, his boots echoing like thunder in the oppressive silence. David followed, drawn by a mix of dread and fury, his invisibility flickering but holding. Inside the cell sat a girl, no older than fifteen, her red hair a stark contrast to the gray stone around her. Her hands were cuffed, the metal biting into her wrists, leaving angry red marks. She sat with her knees drawn up, her eyes fixed on the floor, but there was a defiance in her posture, a spark that refused to be extinguished.
The captain loomed over her, his shadow swallowing the faint light. "Eat, you little bitch," he snarled, kicking a tray of moldy bread toward her. "The king wants you healthy. He has plans for you. So fucking eat."
The girl didn't flinch, didn't look up. Her silence was a rebellion, a refusal to bow to his cruelty. The captain's face twisted, but he turned and stormed out, slamming the cell door behind him. The sound reverberated, a finality that seemed to seal the girl's fate.
David waited until the captain's footsteps faded, then stepped closer to the cell. The girl's head snapped up, her eyes piercing the darkness, locking onto him despite his invisibility. "Are you here to help me," she whispered, her voice trembling but steady, "or to kill me?"
The question struck David like a blow. He let his spell dissolve, his form shimmering back into existence. The girl's eyes widened, but she didn't scream, didn't recoil. There was a strength in her, a resilience forged in pain. "What's your name, kid?" he asked, his voice softer than he intended, rough with emotions he hadn't let himself feel in years.
"Ruby," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "My name is Ruby."
"How did you end up here?" David asked, crouching to meet her gaze through the bars. Her eyes were green, flecked with gold, and they held a story that threatened to break him.
Ruby's lips trembled, and she hugged her knees tighter. "I was happy once," she began, her voice cracking. "Me, my dad, my mom… we lived in a village. My dad was a farmer, always singing while he worked. My mom… she was beautiful, kind, the heart of our home. Everyone loved her." Tears welled in her eyes, but she pressed on, as if the words were a lifeline. "One day, the king passed through our village. He saw my mom, and that night… the knights came."
Her voice broke, and David's heart clenched. He wanted to stop her, to spare her the pain of reliving it, but he knew she needed to speak, to let the poison out. "They hurt my dad," she continued, her words tumbling over each other. "They took us—me, my mom, my dad. When I woke up, I was here, and my mom…" She choked on a sob, her small frame shaking. "My mom was screaming, crying, begging. The king… he was… he was Rapping her, and my dad was tied up, helpless, watching. She couldn't… she couldn't take it. She died, right there, in front of me. And the king… he looked at my dad and laughed. He said, 'Well, a beautiful woman's child is beautiful too.' Then he… he cut my dad's head off."
David's vision blurred, rage and grief warring within him. He saw his own past in her words, the sister he'd lost, the guilt that had carved itself into his soul. He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms, grounding him against the tide of emotion. Ruby's voice dropped to a whisper. "The king told his guards to keep me safe, to bring me to him later. One of them tried to argue, said I was just a kid, but the king slapped him. He said, 'You do what I say, or you die.' So here I am."
David's throat burned. He wanted to tear this place apart, to burn it to ash and salt the earth where it stood. But Ruby was here, now, and she needed him. "Ruby," he said, his voice steady despite the storm inside him, "I'm going to get you out of here. I promise."
Her eyes searched his, desperate for hope, for something to cling to. "Do you have anyone?" he asked. "Cousins, family?"
She shook her head. "No one. It was just us."
David nodded, a pang of recognition hitting him. "I don't have anyone either," he admitted. "I had a sister, about your age. She… she died. I couldn't save her, and I've carried that every day since." He stopped, the memory too raw, too heavy. "But I'm not letting that happen to you."
Ruby's lips curved into a faint, tremulous smile. "Can I come with you?"
The question was so simple, so full of trust, that it nearly broke him. "Yeah, kid," he said, forcing a smile. "You're with me now."
He reached through the bars, his fingers brushing the cuffs on her wrists. They were cruelly tight, her skin raw and bleeding beneath them. Closing his eyes, he focused, summoning the mana he'd only begun to understand. Heal, he thought, and a soft warmth flowed from his hands, knitting her wounds, easing her pain. The cuffs fell away, clattering to the stone floor.
Ruby gasped, staring at her wrists, then at him. "Are you a magician?"
David chuckled, the sound rough but genuine. "Something like that."
Her eyes lit up, a spark of wonder piercing her grief. "Can you teach me? I want to be a magician too."
"Sure, kiddo," he said, ruffling her hair. "I'll teach you everything I know. From now on, you're my apprentice. Sound good?"
Ruby nodded, her smile widening. "Then I'll call you Master."
Before David could respond, the cell door creaked open. The captain stood in the threshold, his eyes widening as they landed on David and Ruby. Shock twisted his features, but it was fleeting, replaced by a cold, predatory grin. "Well, well," he said, drawing his sword. "What do we have here?"
David stepped in front of Ruby, his heart a war drum in his chest. The corridor seemed to shrink, the walls closing in, the air thick with the promise of violence. The captain's sword gleamed, its edge hungry for blood. Behind him, the cells stretched into darkness, their occupants silent, watching, as if the world held its breath.
To be continued…