Bound and Broken: An Isekai Adventure Dark Fantasy (Melas Book 1) by V.A. Lewis (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

These Free Cities were not seen as a hub of culture, ethics, and progress, like the Ancient Greeks were back on Earth. In fact, the rest of the world views them as a backwards society that was reviled for one reason and one reason only: slavery.

The Free Cities was the biggest power in the world to still carry out such primitive practices. Most countries in this world had outlawed slavery as something that was inhumane— against even the Church’s doctrine. My mom told me that it was because all people belong only to the Goddess, so one man could not belong to another man. And yet, the Free Cities still did it.

This became a source of conflict between the Free Cities and all of its neighbours that had long since barred slavery, but everytime they were invaded the Free Cities would band together and fight the invaders back. Even the Holy Xan Empire once tried to invade the Free Cities over this, but because of the logistics required to fight in another continent, the world’s sole superpower lost the war. I remembered my mom calling it the Free War: named after the lands it was fought in and the Holy Xan Empire’s goal to free the slaves.

When I pointed out to my mother how ironic it was that a place literally called the Free Lands was invaded to free slaves, she laughed. She told me that that was the point of the name of the war— a spite against the Free Cities. I remembered that laugh. So gentle. So loving. And now, she was gone.

I gazed around at the camp being set up by the slaves for their captors. At the cages and crates being brought out of the wagons. At the sea of faces, all terrified, all uncomprehending of their situation. None of this mattered to me.

So what if I was a slave? So what if I was tortured or even raped? So what if I was killed? My mother was dead. I don’t care anymore. I hated all of this. I never wanted to come to this world. I might as well just curl up and die—

But would she want that?

The thought crossed my mind as my vision went blurry. I knew my mom wouldn’t want me to die. My mom fought to save me— she died so that I could live. But what reason would I have to live without her? She was my anchor to this world, and she was taken away from me. And how would she even know whether I lived or died right this instant? Was there really an afterlife where my mother could watch over me even in death?

My mind flashed. A memory of a man with blonde hair and blue eyes. A chance given in death; it was not the end.

I had no idea who he was. He might have been a god, and the fact that I had been dead confirmed that there was some sort of afterlife. And...

I grit my teeth. Was he the ‘He’ those three strangers spoke of? But if he was a god, then did the goddess of light even exist? Did my mom’s soul find her way to either of them or—

I never got to finish the thought. Someone was pulling my hair and it hurt. I was lifted off the shoulders of the man carrying me, and was being held up by my hair.

I looked up to see who was doing this to me and saw the slaver from earlier. He looked furious, and his fiery red hair only added to the effect. "Finally stopped ignoring me, huh? Of course it takes a little bit of pain to discipline little kids," he said, voice hiding no hostility as he tightened his grip for a moment. Then the slaver let go of my hair and let me drop to the ground. I fell face first as the kindly man who had carried me earlier scrambled over to check if I was alright.

"Please sir, she’s just a child! She doesn’t understand what’s going on!" he protested.

The slaver whirled and kicked the man on the face. He pointed down at the fallen man and shouted.

"Sir?! Call me that again and I’ll have you killed!" He turned and faced the crowd of helpless slaves. "We are your masters, and you shall call us that or be punished!"

The red haired slaver looked back down at the downed man, and stepped on his back.

"And never talk back to me again. Only speak when spoken to. Is that understood, slave?"

"Y-yes, master."

"Good," the slaver said, satisfied. Then he kicked the man one more time, before roughly grabbing me by the arm. "As for you, little girl, you’re coming with me."

The man brought me to the fancy looking tent I saw earlier, and called in. "Hey Julian, I’ve got her."

"Come in," an older voice called out.

He brought me into the tent and looked around. The tent was large and lit by a fireplace, with a metallic rod sticking out of the fire. Julian, the fancily dressed man from earlier, was sitting on a desk with a bunch of paper strewn about. He looked up and regarded the slaver who brought me in. "Good work, Marcus."

Marcus— the red haired slaver— grunted in affirmation and stepped back. Then, the old man got up from his desk and walked over to me; he slowly circled me as if he were inspecting a piece of diamond for any flaws in its cut "Hm, yes. Very good. Very good indeed," he muttered under his breath.

While he was doing this, I stayed quiet. At one point, he grabbed my hair and mumbled a question about whether it was real. Eventually, Julian seemed to reach a conclusion and sat back on his chair, satisfied. The old slaver looked me over and