"The 16th of April 1780. That was the date when my life started heading into a downward spiral."
"The 1st of May was the day that shit really went out of hand, and when I knew I would never get my life back."
"And now, it's the 5th of July. I can't wait to see what kind of trauma-inducing scene I'll be witnessing today."
Silence. Only the sound of the engine could be heard as the jeep neared its destination. Their eyes were covered, their hands confined by a flesh-like constraint—a special restraint made solely for people like them.
"Well boys and gals, we're here!" a familiar voice shouted, breaking the silence. His voice was so loud it easily overpowered the sound of the engine.
"Seven kilometers of abandoned homes, churches, and 100-year-old 'Decadents' to play around with to your heart's content! Your playground! Now then, let's get those blinds and binds off. Same objective as always—reduce the Decadent population by the end of the day."
They felt the jeep slowing down and heard thunks and thuds as the soldiers tried to open the mechanism of the door. Then came the warm light of the sun on their skin. From the dark interior of the jeep emerged Nula—a decently built man with light skin, wearing a black coat. His hair was black with white strands, and he wore earrings in both ears. His left arm was slightly thinner than his right and wrapped in bandages.
One of the soldiers then removed his blindfold and whispered an incantation to the restraints, releasing the Flesh Clamps that bound him. As Nula squinted against the sunlight, he was greeted by a girl wearing a pink jacket and blue jeans. Her name was Vina—she had short black hair with red highlights at the ends, matching the color of her eyes, though the latter had a much more crimson tone. Her skin was pale, and at a glance, she seemed like the type of person who had never lifted a finger in her life, but her hands say otherwise. looking closely at her palms, you could see blisters and wounds—not to mention the faint scars on her wrists.
On her left was Peeros. If Vina looked like she had never lifted a finger in her life, Peeros was the opposite. He had spiky hair, a red scarf around his neck, and a plain brown shirt. His skin was tan with an average build, aside from his arms, which were defined and looked like stone—most likely due to hard labor from a young age. He was a shy and meek fellow, and unlike Vina, who greeted Nula with a smile, Peeros simply looked down and avoided eye contact.
Nula looked around to see a few more people. Some were "Laborers" like him, and some were mercenaries. The trio didn't waste any time and began preparing for the job. The soldiers handed each of the laborers some bandages and a shard necklace to protect them from the miasma's effect. They then began wrapping around their bodies. These bandages, however, weren't meant for covering wounds—in fact, they did the opposite. They prevented anything from piercing the skin. The fabric used was made of a specialized material infused with magical properties. It was basically body armor without the weight and bulk.
Nula then felt numbness in his left hand. He tried moving his fingers, only for them to lag slightly, accompanied by a tingling sensation in his forearm—like the feeling when blood stops flowing to a limb after you slept on it. "It'll wear off once I get my heart pumping," he muttered to himself as Vina approached with a weapon in hand.
It was a blade designed like a cleaver, but its most distinct feature was the handle and guard. The guard was shaped like a human-sized skull, and the blade protruded from the top. Bolts ran through the sides of the skull, securing the blade in place. The handle was crafted to resemble a spine, connecting to the base of the skull where the mandible should be. Dubbed "The Skull Cleaver" by the mercenaries, it was the only weapon with a name due to its unconventional design.
"Well then, you ready? Peeros will be the Watcher for the first round, and our quota for today is seven," Vina said, handing Nula his weapon.
"They keep adding more and more each week," Nula replied with a serious expression.
From the edge of the hill where they stood, Nula took a deep breath and surveyed the area. Even at a glance, it was easy to tell this had once been a bustling metropolis. Despite decades of abandonment, some of the infrastructure still stood—albeit now crawling with monsters. Judging by the layout, it was clear the people who once lived there were deeply religious. Multiple places of worship were clustered together with government buildings and market spaces. The houses were only a few stories high, built mostly from stone, wood, and clay roof tiles. Their foundations hadn't been very stable, which is why the majority eventually crumbled over time. The churches and government buildings, however, remained intact.
"One quick reminder laborers!" shouted a man sitting on the roof of the jeep. He was well-built, wearing only a tank top and baggy green pants. His hair was long, his bangs tied upward with a band. His eyes were orange, and his right pupil had an odd shape—split by a horizontal line.
"Remember not to stray too far from the vicinity. Do not harm any of our staff! And lastly, do not leave any messages asking for help, or else…"
He paused, his voice shifting in tone.
"I will gut you."
"But most importantly! Don't forget to have fun!"
And with that, the trio—along with the other laborers—set off to begin their mission. Nula then looked back with a stern, angry expression directed toward Liba.
"Heh… 'Laborers'—trying to make it sound appealing won't change the fact that we're
literally just slaves now. I used to have money, women, and fame, but now I'm just a victim of human trafficking," Liba whispers as he prepares for the hunt.