[: 1st POV :]
I was cold, wet, and shivering.
The current had carried me through twists of riverbank and mud until, eventually, I was pulled out roughly by a pair of hands.
"Oi, boss! Another baby! Guess the river's coughing up trash today!"
Trash?
I couldn't speak, but something in me wanted to scream.
I had just been born into in this world, and now I was being called trash?
I was lifted upside down and slapped on the back to get the water out of me.
My small body coughed and wheezed instinctively.
"Damn, he's still alive. Lucky little bastard."
I opened my blurry eyes to see the man's scarred face, half his teeth missing, and a jagged smile that made my infant instincts tremble.
"Looks healthy. Might fetch a price in a few years if we keep him alive," another muttered.
Then, one of them noticed the necklace.
"Hey, boss, this thing's wearing a necklace. Doesn't look like common stuff."
[: 3rd POV :]
The slave merchant leader, a wiry man with a hawk-like gaze and a whip slung at his waist, took the necklace from Daniel's neck.
It glinted under the sun a woven chain of soft rose-gold metal, supporting a gemstone that shimmered faintly with warmth, almost like it pulsed with life.
"Huh. Never seen this design before," the leader muttered. "No crest, no emblem. Probably some sentimental junk."
He looked at the gem again, then shrugged.
"Doesn't matter. I'll keep it. Might be worth something if we melt it down."
Daniel's necklace a gift forged personally by the Empress, known only to her, embedded with a subtle enchantment that resonated with her own life force was now tucked away carelessly in the merchant's pouch.
They didn't recognize its meaning.
They didn't understand that this necklace was a key, a symbol, a lifeline.
To them, it was just gold.
To the Empress… it was her son's soul anchor and at this moment, none of them knew the consequences of taking his necklace.
[: Daniel POV :]
I felt something leave me the moment the necklace was taken.
I couldn't explain it, but I knew it was important. It was mine.
No, it was perhaps made from my mother and now it was gone.
I didn't cry.
I just stared at the man who took it, memorizing his face.
Even as a baby… I promised myself one day, I will take it back.
I don't know how long it was.
Time didn't exist for me in that moment.
They wrapped me in rough, old cloth and threw me into the back of their wagon, like I was nothing but a wet lump of meat.
The wagon creaked and shook with every bump and dip in the dirt road.
The scent of blood, sweat, and filth clung to the rotting wood like a second skin.
I could hear others.
Whispers. Groans. Breathing.
I turned my tiny head just enough to see there were others inside this dark box.
A girl, no older than ten, sat hunched with a swollen eye and cracked lips.
Her fingers trembled as she held a small broken doll to her chest like it was the only thing she had left in this world.
In another corner, an old man his ears pointed like blades, face wrinkled beyond age, skin torn with lash marks stared blankly into space.
He didn't even blink as though there was no life in his eyes.
And then I saw them.
Demons with cracked horns.
Demi-humans with fur matted in dried blood.
Elves with their once radiant hair dulled, bound in iron chains too tight for their slender limbs.
I was surrounded by all ages, all races, all broken.
I could already tell that they were all trafficked and no words needed to be spoken.
I felt it all.
Their silence screamed louder than anything.
And I was just a baby in their hell.
I should have been happy and delighted that I had been reincarnated, but right now, the situation didn't allow me to.
I didn't know how long it took but the wagon finally stopped.
I was dragged back to the camp like a bundle of rags.
The place they called a "camp" was nothing more than a filthy outpost hidden deep within a dried canyon.
The smell of sweat, rot, and blood stuck to wooden cages, iron bars and everything.
Stone floors stained dark with the past.
They threw me into one of the larger pens shared with others.
There were others but their eyes and bodies
tells me they were… broken, old and tired.
Those lifeless eyes they had was something I'm familiar with.
It reminded me of the incurable diseased I had but the only difference they had was that they had became a slave.
And as I lay there, wrapped in nothing but a damp cloth, shivering with what little strength I had, I saw eyes turn toward me.
Some curious and some were indifferent.
But most had eyes of pity.
"By the gods… he's just a newborn," a soft voice said, belonging to an older elf woman whose silver hair was matted with dust.
A demi-human with feline ears crouched beside her, eyes narrowed.
"What kind of monster brands a baby? I thought even these scum had limits."
"They don't," a rough male voice answered bitterly.
He was a demon horn broken, one eye blinded. "I've seen them mark a toddler who cried too loud and they think it's funny."
"And now this one," the elf whispered, reaching out through the bars to touch my forehead gently with her thin fingers.
"Poor soul… what did you ever do to deserve this?" Even the elf carried me and she even cried with her tears dropping on me.
I couldn't answer. But my trembling body did enough.
But at this moment, I felt warmth from her.
Their words wrapped around me like something warm but even then, they couldn't stop what came next.
[: 3rd POV :]
The slave merchant returned later that evening with two masked men carrying a red-hot branding rod.
"He's next," one of them said casually. "Let's get it over with."
The slaves in the pen stood up some shouting in protest.
"Wait! He's just a baby!" the elf woman called out, shielding Daniel's tiny body with her arms.
"You brand him now and he'll die!" the demi-human growled, baring her teeth.
"Not your concern," the merchant replied coldly.
"All property gets the crest."
He pushed a whip against the bars and activated a button he pressed with a control.
Immediately, all of the slaves screamed in pain as there were something hurting them within their soul.
Eventually, Daniel was pulled from the elf's arms.
He cried not in fear of the strangers—but because he had felt safety for a brief moment… and now it was gone again.
The stone slab was brought in, still stained from the last mark.
The branding rod glowed like molten lava.
The slaves around the courtyard went quiet.
"Don't look," someone whispered. But no one could turn away.
[: Daniel POV :]
I felt the slab beneath my back.
My tiny hands wriggled, trying to fight. My legs kicked weakly. I screamed.
But no one stopped them.
The rod was lowered.
I screamed louder.
I screamed until I couldn't breathe.
And then—
HHHHAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!!!
The moment it touched my chest, it felt like my heart was being ripped out.
A pain I didn't think existed.
A fire beneath my skin, consuming me from the inside.
My vision went white and my mind fractured.
I could feel the slave crest burning into my flesh branding me like cattle.
I cried.
Tears streamed down my face, and they didn't stop.
My cries were hoarse, broken and raw.
But all around me—I heard the gasps, the shouts, the sobs.
"He's just a baby! Damn you!" one man yelled.
"Bastards! You'll all burn for this someday!" another screamed.
Even the elf… she wept. I saw her eyes as I screamed. She mouthed a prayer I didn't understand.
They hurt for me.
I didn't even know them… but they hurt for me.
After the mark was scorched into me, they placed a slave collar or rather, a wrist cuff onto my small arm.
It clicked tight and cold, humming with ancient runes.
"Now he belongs to us," one of them said.
Belongs?
I don't belong to anyone.
But right now… I couldn't fight that.
Right now, I was helpless.
[: 3rd POV :]
They tossed Daniel back into the pen like he was waste.
His chest still smoked, red and swollen from the crest.
His breathing came in small, painful gasps.
The elf woman caught him gently in her arms.
Her hands trembled.
"How could they be so cruel...?" She cried as she tried to soothe Daniel cries while cradling him.
The feline demi-human beside her clenched her fists.
"If there's any justice left in this world, he'll rise one day. And when he does… I hope he burns them all."
A demon boy, barely ten, crouched nearby. His voice was quiet, trembling.
"Do you think he'll remember us… if he survives?"
The old demon scoffed.
"He won't have to remember. But I hope he can survive and that's all I wish hope" The old demon said.