Flip… Flip… Eden is mindlessly flipping through the books on his bookshelf, thinking about the old man's words. How could he possibly think what I did was right? I caused the deaths of thousands, but he dares to think I should be forgiven? All because I feel bad about it. That old fool could never have faced true tragedy, or else he would know that guilt does not wash away blood, nor the tears of those put in harms way. He does not know that remorse is poison to those wounded in your catastrophe. That no amount of regret will ever heal the scars of trauma for all involved. Eden solemnly believes, flipping through book after book, trying to find something of value to read. Sadly, however, Eden finds no such book. So his search will continue on another day, especially as the old man calls him down, interrupting his search.
“Hey, Eden, would you get over here?” The old man asks, at the opening of the house. “They dropped off today's food.” He says, while Eden gets up from the stone bed and begins to head over. It was not a long walk, with the house barely being larger than a shack. It may have had 2 bedrooms, a kitchen, and a bathroom, but they were not all that big, and all were just random stone rooms, with no surface being flat, but rather have random dents and holes all throughout. As Eden quickly walks to the front door where he sees the old man holding two trays of food, containing small portions of pork, beans, and mashed potatoes. The two of them go to the kitchen to eat their meagre meal. Now that Eden enters the kitchen, he can truly see its flaws. The kitchen is rather barren, only containing a few chairs, one table, and an out-of-place modern fridge in the corner, assuming that your definition of modern is the early 20th century. Though that is far younger than every other object in the room, and probably the room itself as well. Eden, not really stopped by the low quality of the furniture, pulls out a chair while the old man opens the fridge to grab out a pitcher of lemonade. Eden stares at the drink, having never seen it before, or at least not in recent memory.
“What? Do you want some?” The old man asks Eden, to which he would take the old man’s offer. He pours him and Eden a glass, and they eat their food. The food is prison-like, but this was expected by Eden. He has really only had food of this quality for his entire remembered life. This is accompanied by the lemonade poured down his throat, sour as fermented vinegar, not helped by the old man’s face. They sit in silence, both waiting for the other to speak. But after a few minutes, the old man breaks the silence once more.
“Are you enjoying your stay in this hellhole? Were you watching the blood from your hands dry? The fairly stained blood, I mean.” The old man says to Eden, offended at his words.
“There is no such thing as fairly stained blood, or at least not against those who have never harmed you. Though your ignorance is justified, as one born with no tragedy could never understand sin.” Eden responds back to the old man. While he takes great offence to Eden words, he is calm all the same, as calm as always.
“So I have never faced pain because I believe there is redemption? That one can be forgiven without labour? You must be colourblind to be seeing all this black and white.” The old man remarks, but continues before Eden can say anything. “So let's say your hypothesis is right, which it is not but mute for this argument, what would be this pain a boy hardly old enough to change his own diaper have that is so tragic? You would not be claiming that the slaughter of those trees is your pain, or else you are a far greater fool than I already took you for. No, innocent might be a better word on second thought.” The old man asks Eden, redden from his words. He is about to yell at him before calming down abruptly.
Notice! Skill ‘Patience’ has activated. All mental defences will be strengthened.
Though he calms down, his disagreement with the old man’s words remains steadfast.
“What tragedy? What pain? It was a fate far worse than this place could ever be. Innocents enslaved and slaughtered, forced to work in fear of being killed for the hell of it, all for the sake of their amusement, the overlords' amusement. Not to mention the chickens.” Eden tells the old man, chuckling at his words.
“You may call that place worse, but that only shows ignorance. You will realize the sweet words of the king were nothing but a snare to bring you to your old fate, a sinner fate, something you are of no such thing!” exclaims the old man as he slams his drink down before getting up. “Be ready for tomorrow, work starts and ends at 8, but I would show up a quarter before and leave a quarter after, I recommend you do the same.” The old man advises, walking to his room after he finished his meal. Shortly after Eden gets up and goes to his room, sleeping on his stone bed that he laid with hay to soften his fall.
Next day
Eden wakes up and immediately goes outside, seeing that the clock he found told him it was 7:40. Panic fills him from not wanting to be late. So he quickly gets to the wood spirit to get checked in for today's labour; cotton farming once more. He gets to farming, which is a hard task even for the farmer, though he gets something out of it. He gains some gold here and there while harvesting some cotton. But it is given to the spirit who oversees him, fetched out in but a moment from his greedy gaze. This does annoy Eden, but he believes that this must be a punishment for Eden’s greed for wood. He then looked over to see what the old man is doing, perhaps if he has a secret method for harvesting cotton, but Eden is shocked to be unable to see him.
Where is the old man? He should be harvesting on the field, but he is nowhere to be seen. It is not like there is a wall of any sort. Eden wonders, but he has no way of finding out where the man is himself. Eden however starts to glow green, but this seems to give him an idea, and he also seems to notice it this time unlike the previous times. This leads him to go for a more surprising option.
“Hey, wood spirit!” Eden yells out to the spirit, who is confused by why this is happening. “Why can I not see the old man anywhere?” Eden asks the spirit, who has regained his composure.
“I have no obligation to answer your question!” The spirit yells out in response.
“Oh come on. Can you not help your gold printer? You must need a decent bit of it, and I doubt there is a much better source for you other than me.” Eden mentions to the spirit.
Notice! Skill ‘Trickster’ has activated. All mental defences will be strengthened.
The boy has a point. No, I cannot tell him about the enchantment, especially with how faulty it is with him. But what if he starts farming slower? I will lose so much profit! I cannot have that happen! But I also cannot tell him about the enchantment. I guess I will mention it kind of, but not fully. The wood spirit decides on.
“Fine, farmer, the field is split by magic to make sure no farmers can talk to each other while working. Now get back to the fields!” The spirit yells out, to which Eden obliges his words and finishes his day with harvesting. The spirit even allowed Eden to keep half a pound (0.23 kg) of the cotton for himself. Eden walks to the house with a smile, but it is washed off faster than his guilt could ever be when he sees the old man, carrying with him 3 pounds (1.36 kg) of cotton all for himself. He is also holding another pitcher of lemonade.
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“How were you allowed to keep all of that?” Eden asks the old man.
“This old body can lift quite a good bit. The spirits sometimes let you keep some cotton if you pick enough. Maybe you could have just as much as he, well if you were not held down by worthless guilt.” The old man remarks at Eden as he walks inside, ignoring the old man’s rude but calm remarks. The old man does as well, waiting for the 10 o'clock mealtime, and begins to rest. The two do not speak a word in these two hours, as Eden reads and the old man sleeps. When mealtime hits, the two have the same meal once more, with the same lemonade, as sour as before, along with the old man.
A few days later
The next day flows the same as the last. Eden harvests cotton, but always less than the old man. The days always end the same as well, with a small meal and a sour lemonade, while looking at the old man’s sour face. The next day follows suit, along with the next, and the next one after that. The days blend together, with no real change besides the occasional skill proficiency increase from the system along with a few words from the old man, but his words have no effect on Eden any more. What does start to concern him is a light glimmer of green surrounding him whenever he thinks. But the glow grows dimmer and dimmer, eventually to the point where it stops ever showing up.
Four months later
Eden wakes up and walks outside. He does not even check the clock as he already knows the time, 7:40. It is the only time Eden ever wakes up after all. He prepares for a day the same as the last, but at the doorway is the old man and the wood spirit rather than just himself. They appear to have been waiting for him. Is today a special occasion? What are they waiting for? Eden wonders, but this will have to be solved by himself, as the two others have no will to answer him.
“Come down here, Eden! It is time for the annual event.” The old man yells up to Eden. Eden reaches him and asks him about this so-called event.
“What is this event, old man?” Eden politely asks the old man, who gets a bit of a grin on his face.
“The event to turn all lies to truth, to reveal the hypocrisy of this place. It will be the day you damn our very rulers-” The old man starts, but is cut off by the spirit.
“Silence! I have already waited long enough! We will be going to the trial.” The spirit says to both of them, confusing Eden but follows nonetheless. The spirit then leads them outside and to their new destination. The walk goes on for what feels like hours, only interrupted by a few other old men joining them. This slow pace is partially the fault of everyone but Eden walking slowly, looking downwards, almost in fear. The few other people who join him with the old man and spirit do not talk. They almost seem like they cannot talk at all. Each step taken by any of them makes a quiet but heavy sound on the cotton fields, muddy from their recent watering. The cold air blows on them, a source unfound in a cave like this, though the old man blames the wood spirits, like he does with all the problems he faces in this place. Eden follows along with this silence, unsure of why this void of sound exists, or what is haunting the small group. After a few hours, however, this purgatory of silence ends, and the sound of maniacal laughter can be heard from a distance, a voiced somewhat recognized by Eden, but he cannot place a finger on it. The slow pace halts and the people around Eden froze, all except the old man and the spirit, along with himself of course, at the sound of the laughter. The only movement is their legs shaking and their face falling.
“Come on now! Catch up with the pack!” The spirit yells out, much angrier than ever seen by Eden. The colourless old folks behind them quickly run up at his command, but a few of the old men trip on the rocky and muddy dirt, falling on each other. The spirit sighs and casts some kind of spell he calls “Vined Feet” as vines come from the ground and surround the fallen fool’s feet, and are yanked over and forcibly dragged the rest of the way. Eden can hear the men making painful sounds and groans, but the wood spirit cares not. The final stretch was not long by any means, but left longer than the whole walk to get here. Every step was halfway withdrawn by the laughter heard from a distance, which was now identified as coming from a large cotton tent, colour much like how a circus tent would. Even the old man is now showing signs of hesitation to continue. But they all did, in fear of what would happen if they did not. However, Eden did not share their fears, but instead was curious about the source of the fear.
Why is everyone afraid? What brings them such fear in that tent, that they wish to all the gods they could do anything but? This answer seems to only be reachable from seeing it firsthand, as I doubt I will get much of use from rude and scared old men. Eden concludes, walking forwards, brave as ever, though the old men around will swear it was foolishness. When they all reach the tent, however, the spirit taps his ghostly hand on Eden, and gives him advice.
“Be careful, Eden. I would like to have you on my fields and not 6 feet (1.83 m) under, so please do not be the same impulsive man you always are.” The spirit advises Eden, seeming out of character for the spirit, at least in Eden’s eyes, who is non the wiser at his true motives.
I refuse to lose such a good moneymaker like Eden! He is the only man with the farmer job in this whole place. If need be, I have something that could work, but I hope it does not come to that. The spirit thinks, as the group walks into the tent. The second they do, they feel a wave of uncomfortable warmth flow over them, not helped by the bright lights. The bright lights blind Eden, who has grown a custom to the lack of light in the cave. Once Eden grows accustomed to the brightly light room, he looks around, and notices how the tent is structured much like a bundle of coliseums made from wood, each filled with their own amusement for the being laughing. In the stands, completely made from wood, contains countless wood spirits, watching whatever was going on in the areas. At the very top of this tent, there is a wooden box and throne, all for his majesty himself, Cosmos. He laughs and laughs, holding a wooden cup with a wooden straw for drinking and eating some kind of glowing popcorn out of a wooden bowl. He then goes to address Eden and his group.
“Ah, welcome to your trail! It will start after the former group finishes, it was a rather large one, so I spent quite a bit of time thinning out the herd.” Cosmos laughs, much to the appall of those around Eden. They are led up some wooden stairs by their spirit guide and left in a small wooden stand with wooden chairs and wood everything. As Eden sits on one of these chairs, he recognizes the type of wood it is, bloodwood, a type of wood he only ever found in the wood spirits’ domain.
Why is this here? Was the king not against cutting down trees? Now that I think about it, everything here is made from wood, down to the last inch every structure, utensil, and appliance is made from wood. Eden notices. But this would be the last of his worries as the old man sits next to him and begins to show him the truths of this place, and the lies of this hypocritical king.
“Remember when you informed me of the hell you were once in? And how this was so much better compared to your old life. Could you help me recall what made that place so horrid?” The old man rhetorically asks before continuing. “Oh, now I remember. About how you were enslaved and slaughtered.” The old man says, pointing at the area towards the left, where young women were walking around in handcuffs and neck chains, chained together with ripped rags for clothes. What met them was a fancy looking wood spirit, holding up a paddle and auctioning them off, killing the ones who went for less than 1000 gold. The spirits would leave a few of the poor, innocent women at 999 gold, just to see their hope fall through when no one else would bid, and laugh as their neck chain slowly crushed their neck, squeezing their head off. Blood would then spew across the wooden floor like a fountain.
“And what else was it? That you were forced to work out of fear?” The old man says, now pointing more to the middle, where groups of men were fighting an assortment of insects while protecting some infants. There were counters near the infants, keeping track of their time. The counter ticked down, only going up when gold was thrown at them. But one group had too many infants to care for, and the spirits wanted to see blood. Their counter reached zero, and vines struck the men, keeping them in place while the infants were eaten alive by the numerous bugs. The other men were fighting flashily. One could say they hoped their showmanship would gain them some gold. But one thing they all did was leave the arena. They never dared to try to leave their area, which was marked by a red line, one made from the bloodwood sap on the wooden floor. The old man continued to speak.
“But now, oh so the ever wise Eden, what was the last thing you said? Something about it being for their amusement?” The old man asks, this time spreading his arms out, as Eden looked everywhere to see the spirits in the stands, laughing like this was a comedy show. They would cheer upon every death and injury, and would only help a select few, but just enough to allow them to fight for a little longer, rarely enough for them to survive. There were even those betting on who would win or lose, the monsters or the humans, with massive projectors showing the bets were overwhelmingly in favour of the monsters. And above all of at, rising from his blood wood chair, stood a man who ruled them all, an overlord if you would call it, laughing like the hypocrite he is.
Eden Status report-
Inventory-
Stored-
20 pounds (9.07 kg) of Cotton.
