Following the AI chip's guidelines, he took the herbs and crushed them with a stone until they became smaller crumbs. He then added the crushed herbs to the porridge and instructed the AI to analyze it.
[Analyzing… Processing… Partial neutralization of toxic compounds detected. Toxicity levels reduced by forty percent. Minimal nutritional enhancement observed. Bitter compounds introduced. Overall safety improved, but long-term consumption remains inadvisable.]
This did not faze Aris, and he ate the porridge. "Nothing changed in the taste; it only got more bitter," he thought as he gulped it down. He felt a little clearer-minded, though he wasn't sure if it was an illusion or if his mind truly became sharper.
Then, he went to the well to wash his bowl. As he approached, he noticed three kids standing by the wall, engaged in conversation. Their hushed voices and animated expressions piqued his curiosity.
Drawing closer, he heard whispers of their discussion. They were talking about knights. Intrigued, he slowed his pace, pretending to busy himself with his bowl while discreetly listening in.
"I heard that knights can beat one hundred men in a single fight!" one of the kids declared with wide eyes.
"Ha! That's nothing!" another chimed in. "I heard they can split a river with a single swing of their sword!"
"And they can even fight dragons with their bare hands!" the third added, clearly in awe.
Aris rolled his eyes inwardly. The conversation was so exaggerated it bordered on absurdity. No single person could defeat a hundred men under normal circumstances. Splitting a river with a sword? Ridiculous. Fighting dragons barehanded?
Do dragons even exist in this world? He had no way of knowing. But if they did, no mere mortal could hope to fight one with their bare hands.
"They're just kids," Aris thought, stepping back slightly and continuing to wash his bowl at the well. "They don't know any better. They've probably never seen a real fight, and where did they even hear these absurd rumors from."
His eyes flicked to the trio as they continued their exaggerated discussion. He kept his expression neutral, not bothering to correct them. Arguing with them would only waste his time and risk drawing unnecessary attention to himself.
"If knights have this kind of legend surrounding them," he mused quietly, "then they're more useful as symbols than as real beings. But what if they were real? What if what people are saying is true?" He pondered this because he knew nothing about the outside world. He wasn't sure if it was true, but a part of him hoped it was. The very thought of splitting a river in two seemed almost fictional. But then again, wasn't his rebirth just as impossible?
If he could return to life, then who was to say there weren't people out there capable of feats beyond reason? With that thought, he finished cleaning his bowl, not bothering to entertain their nonsense any further. He moved on to the house and stored his bowl under his bed.
Aris went to the farm, a two-kilometer walk, to plant rice again. As he entered his paddy, he activated the AI to scan the condition of his seeds. The results came back: ninety percent of the seeds were viable, while the remaining ten percent would fail to germinate due to their age and poor quality. It wasn't something he could control, as the seeds were assigned to him. If he had a choice, he would've selected better quality seeds to ensure a higher yield.
Curious, he turned his attention to the paddy of the boy next to him and initiated a scan.
[Scanning… 70% of seeds wasted. Only 20% expected to germinate successfully. Reason: oxygen deprivation caused by excessive water levels.] Aris looked at the boy who was wading in the murky water, The kid winced occasionally, closing his eyes in pain, likely from the wound on his leg.
Aris hesitated. Should I say something? Would he even listen? The boy would likely dismiss his words or even assume he was trying to mislead him. Most here had no reason to trust one another. Helping others wasn't something Aris had the luxury to concern himself with.
After a brief pause, he spoke in a neutral tone. "Your water's too high. The seeds won't sprout." The boy blinked, staring at him momentarily before looking down at the water. Aris didn't wait for a response. He had already done more than necessary. Without another word, he turned back to his own work, letting the matter drop.
The kid examined his water, then glanced at Aris, confusion flickering in his eyes. "What does he mean by 'water level is high'?" he thought. He looked around at the other slave kids—some had water levels barely reaching their ankles, while others had it up to their knees. He dismissed Aris's words, not fully understanding their significance. The pain in his leg clouded his judgment, making it hard to think clearly.
"So he chose not to take my advice," Aris thought, glancing at the kid for a moment before returning to his own work. Time passed, and soon it was time to finish for the day. Aris inspected his paddy once more. He carefully scanned the field thrice, ensuring no issues or potential problems existed. After thoroughly checking, he found nothing out of the ordinary. Satisfied, he left with the other kids, heading back to the slave quarters.
....
Aris returned to the farm the next day, surveying the surrounding paddies. It quickly became apparent that his field would yield the most rice, which was precisely what he wanted. As the days passed, a week later, the seeds finally germinated. Aris's crops had now entered the seedling stage. In this phase, his primary task was maintaining the water levels, so he came daily to keep the paddy in check.
He also remembered to seek out herbs that could help with his nutrition. Using the guidance of the AI, he collected dozens of herbs and added them to his breakfast and supper. For lunch, he remained at the farm; he could not carry the wild herbs with him. If he were seen doing so, it would draw unwanted attention from the other slave kids, the enforcers, or, worst of all, the chief slave manager.
The following week, Aris carefully managed the water levels, and soon, the seedlings' leaves emerged, stretching toward the surface. The plants thrived over the next three weeks, growing healthier and stronger as they progressed into the next stage.
At the end of the month, the usual quota recording took place, and Aris stood among the other slave kids in front of the dilapidated houses. One of the enforcers was droning on about rules and behavior, his voice a constant stream of orders. "Brainwashing," Aris thought, observing how the enforcers worked tirelessly to embed their words into the kids' minds. The more they drilled this into the kids's heads, the more they would come to accept it as unquestionable truth. And as they grow, they'd work for them willingly, without ever desiring freedom.
After five minutes of this brainwashing, the other enforcer came up with a book, and those who didn't reach their quotas were in this book. He immediately said numbers, "Number 557, your seeds have all died; you will be sent to the mines for two weeks." A sharp gasp cut through the crowd. The boy in question was a malnourished boy, and he staggered forward, his face pale with terror. "Please, sir! Please! Please don't send me there! I—I'll do better next time! I swear!" He collapsed to his knees, his hands gripping the enforcer's boots as he sobbed.
The enforcer sneered in disgust. "Pathetic." Without hesitation, he swung his stick down with a sickening crack. The boy's head snapped to the side as he tumbled onto the dirt, blood splattering from his nose and lips.
The boy's body convulsed with the strike, pain exploding through him like fire. His breath came in ragged gasps, but the more he cried, the more complex the enforcer's stick came down.
"It hurts! It hurts! Please stop!" His thoughts swirled with agony. He clutched at the enforcer's leg again in desperation, his fingers trembling and his instincts screaming for him to beg again. But before he could, the enforcer struck again, and this time, he hit his ribs, which sent him sprawling to the ground, and his vision blurred.
" I… I can't breathe…"
His body refused to move. Every muscle ached, throbbing under the blows. He tried to curl into himself, to shield his head, but it didn't matter. The pain kept coming.
The beating stopped as quickly as it had started. He lay there, frozen, his ears ringing, his body shaking with each painful tremor. His breath came in short, jagged gasps, each one sharp and agonizing against his ribs. Above him, the enforcer's voice seemed far away, cold and distant, but the words barely made sense. It felt as though everything had gone quiet, like he was underwater, struggling to breathe, the shock of the pain still lingering in his chest.
The other slave children stood frozen, their faces pale, their eyes darting between the boy on the ground and the enforcers. None dared to speak, but their thoughts screamed in silent terror.
"That could have been me."
"The mines… No one comes back the same. Some don't come back at all."
"Why did he beg? He should've just taken the punishment. Crying only makes it worse."
"If I fail my quota next time… will they send me too?"
Some of the younger ones trembled, biting their lips until they bled, struggling to hold back their fear. Others stared at the ground, barely daring to breathe, as if staying still and silent might make them invisible and might keep them safe.
A few, the ones who had been here the longest, only watched with empty eyes. No fear. No sadness. Just quiet acceptance. Because in this place, mercy did not exist.
Aris kept his head down, his fists clenched by his sides. His heart pounded, but he didn't show it. "This is what happens when you fail, he thought. This is what happens to the weak."
His mind raced, but he forced himself to stay calm. He had to focus. I need to get out of here. Then, the AI's voice cut through his thoughts. [Abnormally high fear detected. Suppressing…]
The fear inside him seemed to fade, not gone but distant. It was like a wall had been put up inside him, blocking out the panic. The AI had suppressed it, and now he could think clearly again.
He exhaled slowly. His body was tense, but his mind was sharp. "I need to leave this place."That thought was as clear as the air he was breathing. There was no other choice.