Hunger

Northwestern Territories of the Sirius Continent, Year 620

Two suns hung in the sky. One was nearing the horizon, casting a crimson glow, while the other still shone overhead. The air was mildly warm.

A long trade caravan moved through the barren lands. Around fifty guards surrounded it, ensuring its safety. Among them, the most striking figure was their leader, Yosukez.

He was a towering man, standing at two meters tall, with a muscular build. A deep scar ran across the center of his face. Thanks to his Physical Enhancement Fate Ability, he could instantly strengthen his muscles and increase his resistance to blows.

The heavy wagons, pulled by horses, left deep tracks in the dry soil. The journey was long and arduous, but the profits would be well worth the effort.

However, among the ordinary cargo wagons, there was one that stood out. At the back, a far more luxurious carriage rolled forward. Its massive, meticulously crafted wheels struggled under the weight, and its exterior was draped with finely embroidered black curtains.

This carriage belonged to the true owner of the caravan—Fauriel.

Inside, Fauriel sat comfortably, his obese body sprawled across silk cushions. Women sat silently around him. The light in their eyes had long since faded; they were breathing, but their existence felt almost lifeless.

Then, his voice echoed from inside.

"How much farther do we have?"

A guard riding beside the carriage promptly answered.

"Sir, we have about an hour left. We'll arrive soon."

Fauriel leaned back with satisfaction.

"Good."

This trade might be even more profitable than he had anticipated.

As one sun neared the horizon and the other remained high, the air stayed warm. The cracked ground stirred up clouds of dust beneath the heavy wheels.

The caravan slowly made its way down a narrow path, reaching a small village. On either side of the road, old and dilapidated houses stood. Many roofs had collapsed, and the walls were riddled with cracks. Time had already abandoned this place.

Villagers, dressed in tattered, ragged clothing, went about their days. Some tried to piece together broken wooden planks, while others sat on the ground, watching their children play with stones. But most of their eyes were empty—lifeless.

Then… the sound of hooves echoed.

At first, only a few people lifted their heads. Then others followed. Murmurs spread through the crowd.

"Something's coming..."

"Why would such a large caravan be here?"

"Soldiers? Merchants?"

Doors creaked open. Women, elderly folk, and children stepped out, watching the road with cautious eyes.

And then, they caught the scent.

Food.

At first, they hesitated. But hunger could make a person do anything.

A man stepped forward. Then another. And another… Soon, a group of villagers rushed toward the caravan.

They dropped to their knees, pleading.

"Please, just a little food!"

"Our children haven't eaten in days, for the love of the gods!"

"A single piece of bread… just one!"

Inside the lavish carriage, Fauriel frowned as the noise reached him. Annoyed, he lifted his head with a displeased grunt.

"Who is making that racket?"

One of the mounted guards pulled back the curtain slightly and bowed.

"Sir, a group of villagers is begging for food. Their voices are carrying all the way here."

Fauriel narrowed his eyes and curled his lips in disdain, shaking his head. He lazily scanned the desperate villagers before sighing in boredom.

"Tsk tsk… So this is what they call hunger?" he murmured, watching a man's trembling hands with amusement.

Then, the fake sympathy in his expression vanished. His face hardened, and his voice turned cold, laced with disgust.

"If you go long enough without food, your honor becomes worth a single piece of bread. And I am the one who decides who gets to eat."

Then, he waved his hand dismissively.

"But since they want food so badly… give them something else instead. Give them the stick."

The guard bowed instantly.

"As you command, sir."

The guards moved.

One of them, a tall man with a stern face, raised his club and swung it down with full force.

The first strike sent a man crashing onto his back.

—"AHHH!" The man clutched his ribs, his body convulsing from the pain.

A faint smile tugged at the guard's lips as he heard the scream.

He crouched slightly, bringing his face close to the wounded man. A cruel glint flickered in his eyes.

"If you can still scream, then you can endure a little more."

Another guard delivered a savage kick to a woman's chest. She staggered, falling to her knees, gasping for breath.

Just moments ago, everything had been still.

Five-year-old Lir clutched his mother's hand tightly, trying to ignore the gnawing emptiness in his stomach.

When he heard the approaching hooves, he lifted his head. He saw the massive wooden wagons, the crates filled with food inside them.

And then, for the first time in his life, he smelled fresh meat.

A scream rang out. Then another. Panic spread like wildfire. Starved villagers, driven to madness by hunger, lunged toward the caravan.

His mother suddenly let go of his hand and ran forward. Lir, startled, rushed after her. But just as he was about to catch up, a guard's heavy boot struck her chest. She staggered, let out a pained cry, and collapsed.

Lir's heart pounded. His mother reached out toward him with trembling fingers.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he leaped toward her—

But a guard noticed him. With a swift kick, Lir's small body was sent flying. A sharp pain stabbed into his stomach. He crashed to the ground, gasping for air as his vision blurred.

Villagers screamed and begged. But it was pointless.

Clubs, fists, and boots came down mercilessly on anyone in their way.

Cries of agony filled the air. Sobs, pleas, and desperate gasps echoed through the village.

The beaten were dragged aside. Some curled up, whimpering in pain. Others struggled to breathe.

And some never moved again.

The caravan continued forward.

Ahead, a medium-sized fortress loomed. Its eight-meter-high walls, built of gray and black stone, stood cold and unyielding against the horizon.