I never even heard those bastards coming.
One second I was behind a crumbling wall, praying I'd wake up from this nightmare—and the next, something heavy cracked against the back of my skull. I hit the dirt with a thud, the world spinning sideways. Before I could breathe, a boot pinned my head to the ground, grinding my face into the gravel.
"Found another one. No collar."
"No crest either. He ain't marked."
Hands yanked my arms behind me, shackles clamping tight with a cruel click. The cold bite of metal on bare skin made everything suddenly, violently real.
They lifted me roughly, and I got my first good look at them—two soldiers in dull black armor, dried blood crusted on their gauntlets, no insignias, no mercy.
"Check the sigil."
One of them grabbed my right hand, flipping it over. The strange golden marking on the back of my palm shimmered faintly, like it was breathing under my skin.
"…You seen this symbol before?"
"No. And I've seen all the registered ones."
They stared at it, brows furrowed, like they were trying to read a dead language.
"So what is he?"
The other shrugged. "Doesn't matter. No collar, no camp stamp, no guild. Unclaimed."
He turned to me, grinning like he'd just found a stray mutt with pedigree potential.
"You're nothing, freak. Just meat."
Then the collar came out.
A thick ring of blackened steel, etched with runes that pulsed red as they locked it around my throat. It clicked, and something sharp stabbed into my neck.
My body jerked—like I'd just been plugged into a socket.
Heat surged through my spine, my thoughts slowed like honey, and then the pain bloomed. Not on the skin. Inside. Like something was tunneling through my mind, boring in deep.
They paraded me through the city like livestock, dragging me along the cobbled streets, naked from the waist up and bleeding from my scalp. I stumbled, legs barely working, but they didn't stop.
That's when I saw them.
The others.
My classmates.
One by one. All around me.
Chained. Collared. Stripped. Broken.
Some marched ahead of me, others were already shoved into cages, or bent over stone benches, bodies shaking. Their names echoed in my head like ghosts—Derek, Alyssa, Mark… the girl who used to borrow my notes in science class—now sobbing as two civilians twisted her nipples and laughed.
The boys got it worse.
Civilian women lined the streets—rich, poor, it didn't matter. They grabbed at their cocks like they were toys. Stroking. Squeezing. Slapping. One woman pulled a crying boy's shaft through the bars and bite down on the head, blood mixing with spit as she laughed and called him "her little pig."
They didn't understand what was happening.
They were panicking. Screaming. Pleading.
And getting punished for it.
A girl tried to cover her breasts with her chained arms—so a soldier whipped her face until she collapsed. A boy kicked out at a woman groping him—and got his leg broken in three places right there on the street, then made to crawl while she rode his back like a beast.
No one was spared.
The ones who resisted were taught.
Those who broke fast were already kneeling, sucking cock, their eyes glazed.
And me?
I wasn't even part of the main group. I wasn't on the registry. I hadn't been summoned by a kingdom. I was something else.
They dragged me past them—my former classmates didn't even recognize me. Maybe they did, but they couldn't speak. Couldn't beg. Couldn't hope.
We were all thrown into this place.
But I was alone.
The camp smelled of sex, shit, smoke, and blood. Dozens of cages. Some open. Some filled. Girls bent over milking benches with tubes jammed between their legs. Boys locked in stalls, used by handlers while being graded.
They shoved me into the center of it all.
A man approached. Not armored—bare-chested, covered in burn marks, with a brander in his hand and no light in his eyes.
"Sigil?" he asked, voice flat.
"Unknown," one soldier answered. "Doesn't match any kingdom registries. Just appeared."
"Wild summon?"
"Maybe. He's blank."
The handler tilted my chin up and examined the mark on my hand. "Hmph."
He touched it with a glowing rod. The moment it got close, the sigil flared and snapped the metal clean in half.
They all stepped back.
The handler's lips curled. "Well, aren't you interesting."
I didn't answer.
He didn't wait.
"Strip him. Brand him. Tag his record. He's property now."
I fought. Kicked. Screamed. The collar shocked me so hard I pissed myself.
They slammed me onto a stone slab and burned the brand into my back. The smell of cooked flesh filled the air. My jaw locked. I bit through my own lip to stop from screaming again.
Then everything went black.
When I woke, I was in a cage.
Naked. Collared. Shackled.
Across from me, a classmate was being mounted by a fat merchant while others watched, laughing, throwing coins. She cried, whispered something—I couldn't hear.
To my right, a boy I used to joke with in gym class was bent over, arms tied, getting beaten while he was being used. His body trembled, but he didn't resist.
No glory.
No prophecy.
Just ownership.
And whatever I was?
They didn't know yet.
But they would.