Chapter 2: Mutated Ai Chip

Fred, still with a handkerchief pressed to his nose, looked around. "Not one of them is strong or has potential," he said aloud. Some of the kids sank into dejection immediately, while others lost hope altogether. Fred thought to himself, I suppose I'll take a few, At least that way, I can say I brought some manpower back to the family.

"You, you, and you," Fred called out, pointing at the children one by one. He was selecting those who were somehow better than the rest; stronger, healthier, or simply more presentable. Hope flickered in the eyes of the remaining children, and some hurried to straighten their backs, puffing out their chests in a desperate attempt to look more robust.

But for the malnourished ones like Aris, no amount of effort could hide their frail bodies. No matter how they tried, they remained weak, their thin bodies betraying them. And as they strained to make themselves seem worthy, the selected ones smirked, their gazes filled with scorn. To them, the struggling weak kids looked like fools.

"What do I need to do to be selected? Think, think, Aris," he encouraged himself. But the reality was grim, and he struggled to come up with a real solution. His malnourished body was a significant barrier; no matter what he told himself, his body would always betray him. He wouldn't even be considered for the menial task of cleaning swords. 

"I have to do something about my body," Aris thought, but then reality struck him once more: "What good will watery porridge do for me? Without proper food, I will never be healthy." 

"The main problem is the food," he concluded. His gaze shifted to the chief slave manager, who was notably overweight. "I can work with this," Aris thought, devising a plan to obtain more food from the chief slave manager.

After ten minutes, Fred finished his selection, choosing ten children who, despite their malnourished state, had the strongest bodies. Without another word, he turned and left, the chosen ones following behind him along with the chief slave manager.

As soon as Fred and his group disappeared from sight, the two enforcers of the chief slave manager turned their attention back to the injured boy.

"So, you think you're safe just because Sir Fred spared you?" one of them sneered.

The boy's face paled. He immediately dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his dirt-streaked cheeks. "Please, sir! I beg you! I won't do it again!" he wailed, his voice trembling with terror.

But the two men didn't care. They had heard countless pleas before, what did it matter?

Without hesitation, they picked up a discarded stick from the ground and struck him. Again and again.

The other children kept their heads down, pretending not to see. Some clenched their fists, others trembled, but none dared to interfere. Helping had never even crossed their minds.

Aris could hear the screams, but his instincts warned him that if he took a single step toward the child being punished, he would face dire consequences. He knew his own body was in much worse condition than the kid's, and he would likely be seriously injured—or worse—if he got hit. "I have to leave this place," Aris thought to himself, filled with determination.

After five minutes, the two enforcers finally stopped their beating. One of them scoffed, glaring down at the motionless boy.

"Hmph. Let's see you try that again."

Then, turning to the rest of the children, he pointed a finger at the beaten boy.

"If any of you dare to step out of line like he did, you won't be fed for a week. And trust me, your punishment will be far worse than his."

The threat hung in the air like a death sentence. The other children stiffened, their eyes filled with silent fear, but no one spoke. No one dared to.

"This is worse than my previous world," Aris thought bitterly. "What kind of hell have I been reborn into?"

His fists clenched as frustration and despair threatened to consume him. If he was destined to be reborn, why couldn't it have been in his old world? Why here?

But he quickly pushed those thoughts away. No. This is pointless. "I won't give up." His resolve hardened. "No matter what it takes, I will survive."

As for the monthly quota records, you're lucky," one of the enforcers sneered. "Sir Fred has waived them."

A murmur of relief spread through the children. Some had already braced themselves for the worst—being sent to the mines.

"And do you know why he waived it?" the enforcer continued, his tone mocking. "Because Sir Fred is a kind man. So, you should be grateful. Now, thank him."

"Thank you, Sir Fred," the children said in unison, their voices weak and uncertain. "Louder!" barked one of the enforcers.

"THANK YOU, SIR FRED!!" the children screamed, their voices echoing across the slave quarters. The enforcer smirked in satisfaction. "Good. Now go eat your breakfast and get to work."

As the enforcers walked away, the children slowly dispersed. Aris turned to leave, but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a boy crouching beside the beaten child. The boy's small frame trembled as he sobbed, his words muffled by his cries.

"His brother?" Aris guessed.

For a brief moment, he hesitated, watching the heartbreaking scene. But he quickly looked away. There was nothing he could do. Survival came first. Without another thought, he continued toward the food distribution area.

After a short three-minute walk, he arrived at an open clearing where a massive cooking pot sat over a weak fire. Behind it stood a mildly fat man, his clothes stained with grease and his hair unkempt. The stench of sweat clung to him, and his yellowed teeth peeked through his half-open mouth.

Aris stepped into the line, gripping a small, worn bowl, one of the few things he had inherited from his parents. The children ahead of him stood in silent misery, their faces hollow and lifeless. The line moved slowly, each child receiving the same thin, watery porridge.

When Aris's turn finally came, he handed over his bowl. The fat man ladled a portion into it without care, some of the liquid spilling over the edges. Aris took it without a word and moved toward his usual spot.

Sitting down, he stared at the murky porridge. It was little more than warm water with a few grains floating in it. His stomach churned, not from hunger but from the memory of his past life. The worst food I ever ate was instant noodles, he thought bitterly. And even that was a luxury compared to this.

[Warning! Detected harmful substances in the food. Consumption is not advisable.]

Aris froze. His eyes widened as he jolted upright, nearly spilling the watery porridge.

What… what was that?

His heart pounded in his chest. That voice, it was unmistakable.

Isn't that… my AI chip?

"No," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "That's impossible."

For ten days, he had accepted his new reality. His body was different, his world was different. Only his soul had crossed over, he was sure of it. There was no way something physical could have followed him here.

But if… if it really did…

His thoughts trailed off as a cold shiver ran down his spine. Hesitantly, he lifted the bowl to his lips, testing the voice.

[Warning! Detected harmful substances in the food. Consumption is not advisable.]

The message came again, clear and undeniable. Aris's grip tightened around the bowl. It's real…

A surge of emotions flooded him; fear, hope, and something deeper. If his AI chip was truly here, then he wasn't as powerless as he thought.

Aris glanced around, making sure no one was watching. The other kids were too busy gulping down their watery porridge to pay him any attention. His lips curled into a grin, and a quiet, breathless chuckle escaped him.

"Heh… hehehe…" His heart pounded with excitement. He couldn't believe it. His AI chip, his lifeline from his past life was here.

"Zona," he whispered.

[Yes. How may I help you?]

A shiver ran down his spine. It wasn't an illusion. It wasn't a hallucination. It's real.

"Are you… in my brain?" he asked internally, his thoughts racing.

[No.]

His excitement faltered for a moment. No?

Confusion settled in. AI chips were always implanted in the brain, there was no other way for them to function. Was it different now? Had something changed with his rebirth?

"Zona, where is your physical form?" Aris asked. "And which part of my body are you implanted in?"

[I do not have a physical form. I am part of your soul.]

"What?" Aris blurted out, his words louder than intended. The other kids, who had been eating their porridge in silence, immediately looked at him. A few murmured under their breath, and some even shook their heads.

"He's gone insane," one of them muttered. Another nodded. "It happens… overwork and all that."

Aris took a sip of porridge to hide his smile. His stomach grumbled from hunger, but the excitement he felt overshadowed it. He remembered that in his previous life, proving the existence of the soul was one of the most challenging topics; it was something that couldn't be seen and could only be speculated about. Yet now, the soul had been proven to exist, and his AI chip had mutated, merging with his soul to create something entirely new.