Chương 30: Blood and Mana

After that, there was nothing I could do but sit in silence and wait. When you have nothing to occupy your mind, time feels as though it stretches into infinity. When the church bells chimed once more, a group of figures shrouded in robes from head to toe appeared. They carried wooden boxes, sliding them into each cell through the gaps in the iron bars. I reached out to grab mine and pried it open. Inside was a meal. Each ration consisted of a boiled potato, a piece of bread, and a small morsel of grilled meat.

Aside from the abysmal taste, it was technically nutritious enough. It seemed Alan was right; they had no intention of letting us starve. It made sense. Even as slaves, "mana slaves" were high-end commodities. If one died, they'd have to find a replacement. And mana users aren't exactly like fallen leaves you can just pick up off the street. Despite that, the living conditions remained wretched.

They provided food and sunlight but restricted movement and forced us to sleep on the cold earth to sap our strength and health. They kept us alive, but ensured we were never truly well. It was the textbook definition of raising livestock for slaughter. About an hour after lunch, another group arrived. These ones wore the vestments of church clerics. They led a crowd of people who looked utterly frail and exhausted, shoving them into individual cells. Soon, two men unlocked my cell.

Before I could react, they swiftly tied a black cloth over my eyes, blindfolding me. A metallic click echoed; I realized my left leg was no longer chained to the floor, though the shackle remained clamped around my ankle. The two men hoisted me up by my armpits and began dragging me along. With my vision gone, my feet stumbled and faltered, unable to find a steady gait. I hadn't expected them to be cautious enough to blindfold us.

Without being able to observe my surroundings, gathering intel would be impossible, making any move a struggle. If only I could see through this cloth... The moment the thought crossed my mind, my left eye actually pierced right through the fabric! Night vision, X-ray vision, and completely independent of the standard mana flow... this eye is incredible! Goddess Halunar, I'm sorry for occasionally thinking you were useless. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent.

Report it. Ahead of me, other mana slaves were being escorted by the same masked captors. We traversed a long stone corridor followed by a steep, winding staircase. After circling for a while, we were finally shoved into a spacious chamber. Inside the room, five stone chairs were arranged around a central pedestal. Upon the pedestal sat a basin containing several mana stones. However, these stones were dark - hollow shells devoid of energy. Each slave was forced into a chair.

Immediately, our limbs were secured with thick leather straps, and the ankle shackles were removed. A few individuals clad in cleric's vestments appeared, each wielding a glass orb. A cleric stationed himself before each slave and signaled the captors to remove our blindfolds. The moment the fabric fell away, the orbs emitted a bizarre, violet-pink glow. What followed became a blurred hallucination. I saw myself standing before a horde of magic beasts. They were tearing apart every human in sight.

I swung my sword, lunging forward, but I couldn't strike a single thing. Then, the scene shifted. I was lying dying on the cold stone floor of the Demon King's castle. I reached out, hoping the people looking down at me with cold indifference would help. No one moved. I'm dying... I have to do something... Wait. That's not right. I had already died once. But I was still alive. Am I really about to die again? Something was wrong. My mind struggled to claw back its sanity, but the images before me remained hazy.

Voices drifted into my ears; I had to exert every ounce of will to process their words.

"... Why aren't any of the stones glowing?"

"Because there's no mana. These people have no mana."

"Impossible! These are veteran slaves we've used multiple times."

"There's a newcomer. That brat with the fake Hero's Mark on his left hand."

"Even if one lacks it, shouldn't the others still produce?" As my consciousness sharpened, I felt an invisible power surging and circulating through my body. Is this mana flowing through me? The sensation of euphoria was similar to when I soaked in the mana pool or when I accidentally siphoned energy from my swordsmanship instructor. However, my physical body felt freezing and utterly drained. My heart was racing, and a dull, throbbing pain emanated from my hands.

Slowly, the fog lifted from my vision, and the room came into focus. Two needles connected to blood-transfusion tubes were pierced into the back of my hands. My blood was being siphoned through them, leading directly into the stone basin in the center. The icy chill I felt was the result of severe blood loss. The man holding the glass orb in front of me quickly noticed the change. He shouted:"It's this one! He's regaining consciousness. He is definitely the reason we can't extract any mana."

"But how...?"

"I don't know. Just get him out of here!" I was unstrapped and hoisted off the chair. The transfusion needles were ripped out brutally and tossed onto the floor. The entire world seemed to tilt; the dizziness was so overwhelming I could barely breathe. These were the classic signs of hypovolemia. Just how much blood had they taken from me?

"The mana stones are starting to glow now."

"So it really was the brat? But how could he...?" A cleric approached and pressed the glass orb against my arm. In an instant, the orb flared with a brilliance rivaling a high-pressure lamp.

"He has a massive amount of mana! Is it possible... did he absorb all the mana from the blood of the other slaves?"