Chương 29: The Prison

What woke me was the distant, rhythmic tolling of church bells. I opened my eyes and felt the cold, hard ground beneath me. It took nearly a full minute to slowly piece together what had happened. Drugged. Kidnapped. The Church. Wonderful. On the bright side, the fact that I hadn't woken up in a pitch-black void to face that unreliable Goddess again was proof enough that I wasn't dead yet. As I pushed myself up, I realized I was in an extremely cramped cell.

The light filtering through the iron bars was just barely enough to make out the murky silhouettes of my surroundings. The space was only about a meter and a half wide, containing nothing but a thin scattering of straw on the dirt floor—presumably a bed—and a wooden bucket in the corner that served as a chamber pot. The walls were constructed of packed earth and stone. I attempted to stand, but something jerked my left leg back.

I lost my balance and fell forward, my elbow slamming into the ground with agonizing force. Looking down, I saw a metal shackle clamped around my ankle. A very short chain connected the cuff to the floor. As if hearing my grunt of pain from the fall, someone from behind the wall to my right spoke up:"A newcomer?" It sounded like a young man. I searched for my voice while rubbing my throbbing elbow.

"Where is this place?" The man didn't give a direct answer, letting out only a long, weary sigh.

"I saw them carry you in... you're just a kid. How pitiful." I crawled toward the bars to observe the area outside my cell. This was a massive, circular prison complex, roughly twenty meters in diameter. Its most striking feature was the ceiling—it wasn't sealed but opened directly to the sky, allowing a flood of natural sunlight. Because of this, the place wasn't damp or musty, and there was no need for torches. This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

A medieval prison with natural skylights? Quite a luxury.

"Hey kid, did fear turn you into an idiot?" Likely noticing my prolonged silence, the person next door spoke up again. I replied, "Ah, I was just so panicked that I hadn't processed what happened yet."

"... Your voice doesn't sound like someone in a panic at all."

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

"Aren't you going to ask where'here' is?"

"Well, I've already got a rough idea."

"You have a rough idea and you still let yourself get caught? What a strange brat." The man let out a raspy chuckle that quickly devolved into a coughing fit. I waited patiently for him to stop before asking, "Were you brought here for your mana too? How long has it been?"

"In a place like this, you lose track of the days. Roughly... three Holy Prayer Days have passed. You can tell by the bells." I tried to move closer to the bars, but the chain was so short I had to lie flat against the dirt just to reach the iron with my fingertips.

"If we're already locked in, what's the point of such a short chain...?" The voice from the other side answered, "That thing is meant to suppress our mana. After all, their only goal is the mana inside us." I tested my left eye. My status window flickered into existence. It still works. I asked the man, "Does wearing this prevent us from using mana entirely?"

"Try to use it and you'll see. I can't feel my mana flow anymore; it feels like there's a blockage somewhere." I understood. The shackle was likely made of a specific material that acted as an insulator, severing the internal mana circuit. To put it simply, mana flow is like an electric current running through the body, and "using" mana is like powering a lightbulb. If an insulator cuts the circuit, the current stops, and the bulb stays dark. However, Halunar's left eye was an anomaly.

I never felt a "flow" when using it. It operated on a different mechanic entirely—utilizing mana without needing a conventional circuit. While I didn't have enough lore knowledge to explain it, the fact that my left eye still functioned was a massive relief. I continued chatting with my neighbor to gather more intel. He introduced himself as Alan. He had been a bodyguard for a wealthy merchant who eventually offended the Church, causing his business to spiral.

Once the merchant discovered Alan could use mana, he secretly sold him to the Church to buy back his favor and future business prospects.

"They won't let you die. You'll get enough food and water, and they'll treat you if you get sick. About once a week, you'll be taken to have your mana 'harvested.' If you recover quickly, they'll take you even more often..." His voice began to tremble. Clearly, the extraction process was far from pleasant. I shifted the topic to Rachel's sister.

"Have you seen a red-haired girl here? About twelve years old?"

"A little girl? Someone that young wouldn't have enough mana to be thrown in here. You're already the youngest person I've ever seen in this hole. Who exactly did you piss off to end up here?"

"I displeased my master," I replied vaguely, then circled back.

"Could she be here as a regular prisoner instead of a mana source?"

"... Haven't seen anyone like that." I sighed. This search was going to be difficult.

"You're quite unlucky, kid. Arriving exactly on Holy Prayer Day."

"Why's that?"

"They need a massive amount of mana for the ceremonies today. They just took one group out. The next batch... will likely be us."