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Surviving in a F*cked-Up Fantasy World Chapter 1

Slave Market

Fantasy.

 

A word that stirs the hearts of men.

 

Movies, dramas, novels, and more—
It’s a recurring theme that appears in all kinds of media.

 

Vast grasslands and exotic races.
Unfamiliar ecosystems, mysterious magic, and spirits.

 

It resonates with the yearning for the unknown and the desire for freedom that lies hidden in the hearts of those living like cogs in a dense urban jungle.

 

However—

 

Where there is light, there is always shadow.

 

If there’s a fantasy filled with hope that people usually imagine.
There must also be one of despair.

 

Medieval, outdated facilities. Poor hygiene. A chaotic lawlessness where bandits emerge the moment you step outside civilization.

 

On top of that, corrupt nobles, peasants who farm their whole lives, and common soldiers dragged into war, burnt to death by magic.

 

Just as in reality, there are tragedies in the fantasy world that are hard to bear witness to.

 

Truly unfortunate.

 

Since it’s fantasy, couldn’t it just show the good parts?
Enchanting magic, hopeful heroes, impossibly beautiful elves, and so on—wouldn’t that be nice?

 

Wouldn’t it be wonderful?

A world without tragedy, pain, or hunger.

 

A world of pure freedom and happiness—can’t it be that way?

 

Huh?

 

Can’t it?

 

“Sh*t…”

 

Lying on a hard and damp floor, I stared at the ceiling.

 

What I saw was a plank, cobwebbed and ready to collapse at any moment.

Yeah, a plank ceiling—that’s what I saw.

 

Is this even a house?

 

If I had to be born into a fantasy world, couldn’t it have been somewhere better?

 

“We don’t have money to get through this winter, honey.”
“Is that so? Well, we’ll have to sell one of the kids then.”

 

Not into a poor slum family that sells its children for lack of money, for f*ck’s sake.

 

**

 

Bang!!

 

“Stay quiet!”

 

I’d been sold.

 

Why?

Because I apparently glared disrespectfully.

 

That’s just how my eyes were.
How could the creators be so irresponsible?

Bastards.

 

Hicc… Mom…”
“It’s so cold…”

 

Around me, there were plenty of kids who’d been sold off, just like me.

 

All of them had been deemed the least useful eaters in their families and were now packed into this corner of the slave market.

 

“Hey, hey, shut up, will ya?”

 

The slave market workers here glared and spat on the kids or prodded them with sticks to keep them in line.

 

…A typical medieval fantasy slave market.

 

What’s going to happen to me now?

 

Sitting in the far corner of a metal cage, I leaned my head against the wall and thought.

 

Since being reincarnated into this world, I’d spent my days scrounging for meals in a decrepit shack. I didn’t know much, but…

 

Based on my memories from my past life and my judgment, this was a medieval fantasy world, and the possibilities of where I might end up were endless.

 

In the worst-case scenario, I could be sold as an experimental subject to a crazed mage.

At best? A brothel.

 

People often said my face was handsome despite my rotten attitude, so the latter seemed more likely.

 

…F*ck.

 

What’s so good about that?

Both options suck.

 

Not that I had the guts to bite my tongue and end it.

 

All I could do was lament this powerless existence.

 

What sins did I commit in my past life…?
Wait, I probably did commit some.
This feels more like punishment than bad luck.

 

As I was pondering whether that was the case—

 

“Don’t worry, everyone!”

 

The largest boy among us began comforting the other kids.
He looked older, maybe a teenager.

 

It was odd, considering this was a place that sold children too young to work.

 

“O-Our country has outlawed the slave trade, so they’ll come to save us soon.”

 

The boy shared news that pricked up my ears.

Selling kids was illegal?

I didn’t know that—I’d been too busy begging to survive.

 

More surprisingly, he seemed to know the law.

Was he educated?

 

“Th-There’s a city nearby, so… maybe the guards there…”

 

I decided to listen closely.

No matter what, he seemed to know more than me, so there might be some useful information—

 

Clang!

 

“Shut up already!”

 

…I thought I was listening, but it must have been too noisy.

One of the slavers burst into the cage and violently opened the gate.

 

“You little shit, running your mouth!”

 

He began kicking the large boy who had been speaking earlier, clearly targeting the most noticeable kid.

 

“Argh! Aaah!”
“Shut up, you bastard!”

 

The boy stood out as the biggest among the kids in the cage. His size and sturdy build made him a convenient target—it didn’t look like he’d break easily even under the abuse.

 

While watching, I carefully glanced outside.

From what I could see, there was just this slaver and two or three assistants nearby.

 

When we were brought here, I noticed this cage was located on the outskirts of the slave market.

 

Was this… an opportunity?

 

Silently.

 

I cautiously stood, moving through the trembling kids without drawing attention.

 

Then—

 

Thud! Thud!

 

“You little bastard!”
“Argh! Aaah!”

 

I approached the slaver who was busy beating the boy.

 

He looked about 170 cm tall. Bigger and bulkier than any adult I’d encountered so far.

 

“What the hell are you…?”

 

Noticing me approaching, the slaver tried to react, but—

 

Grab.

 

I lunged forward and grabbed his ankle.

 

“What are you—ugh, you little… AAAHHH!”

 

CRUNCH!

 

Using the momentum of my whole body, I twisted it with all my strength.

 

“AAAAHH! You little shit! Aaahhh!”

 

As the slaver rolled on the ground screaming, the cage door was left wide open.

 

“If you don’t want to be a slave, run for it!”

 

Shouting this, I bolted out of the cage.

Most of the kids were frozen in fear, but the big boy who had been beaten and a few quick-witted ones followed my lead.

 

“Uh, uh, uh…!”
“The brats are escaping!”

 

The commotion caused an uproar.

 

“Chase them!”
“Catch them all!”

 

The slaver assistants and other slavers nearby began running toward us.

 

“Over here!”

 

I ran desperately, knocking aside anyone in my way, hoping to escape before more people joined the chase.

 

I remembered seeing a forest near the entrance earlier.
The plan was simple: just get to the forest.

 

As for the others…

 

I hoped they’d manage on their own.

 

I didn’t have the luxury of worrying about anyone else.

 

Drawing on my memory of being brought in, I sprinted toward the entrance.

 

“You little punk!”
“Where do you think you’re going?”

 

I dodged the hands of the assistants, pushing them away as I went.

 

“You brat!”

 

When I couldn’t avoid them entirely—

 

Swish.
Thwack!

 

“Ugh!”

 

I used my small frame to throw myself into their weak-looking shins.

 

It only made them flinch for a moment, but that was enough to shake them off and keep running.

 

The slave market turned out to be bigger than I thought, and the commotion attracted more assistants.

 

Still—

 

“We’ve got this one!”
“Where do you think you’re running, you little brats?!”

 

Their focus was divided between chasing me and the other kids.

 

Thanks to that, I managed to push ahead and reach the wide-open entrance.

 

Was this it? Freedom?

 

But what next? How would I make it to a city through the forest?

 

I had some basic survival knowledge, but this was a completely different world, and I’m terrified.

 

Still, sh*t, anything’s better than being a slave.

 

Wandering into a forest to find a city in an unknown direction seemed better than waiting to be sold off at an auction where who-knows-what might happen.

 

I clung to the hope that what the boy said earlier was true as I approached the wide-open entrance, ready to bolt.

 

But then—

 

Thud.

 

My body froze just steps from freedom, as if all the desperate running I’d done until now had been a lie.

 

“You’ve got spirit.”

 

There was one thing I’d overlooked.

This was a fantasy world, one where magic and aura existed.

 

“Agh!”
“You little bastard, stop!”

 

I could hear the slavers and assistants closing in behind me, but I couldn’t move.

Not in front of the man who had appeared out of nowhere.

 

When had he started standing at the entrance?

 

He wore a deeply pressed fedora, and he was unnaturally tall—at least two heads taller than an average adult male. His emaciated frame gave the impression of a giant, withered tree looming over me.

 

What’s worse, he hadn’t been there a moment ago.

 

One blink—no, not even a blink—and suddenly he was standing there, as though he’d been there all along.

 

…Is this the Sword Master from the novels?

 

It became clear that these creatures were on the same level as the so-called magicians I’d always heard about from the slums.

 

Later.

 

“You bastard!”

 

Whack!

 

As the sharp pain shot through the back of my head and my vision blurred, a thought crossed my mind.

 

Whatever this is, I’m utterly screwed.

 

*

 

Later.

 

“You son of a b*tch! My ankle!”

 

For days, I was beaten relentlessly by a slaver whose ankle I had apparently twisted.

 

The bastard limped around, so I must’ve done a good job twisting it.

 

Still, getting beaten hurt like hell.

 

The silver lining?

I was considered merchandise.

 

“This bastard twisted his ankle too…!”

“Then buy him and do whatever you want.”

“Damn it!”

 

Thankfully, the slaver who wanted to make me like him didn’t touch my ankle.

 

One day, after yet another beating…

 

“Hmph… Fine. I don’t need to kill him myself.”

 

With those words from the slaver who had been beating me, I was locked in a cage and sent somewhere.

 

Wherever it was, they even covered the cage with a black cloth.

 

I stayed there for a long time, clutching my bruises in the rattling, pitch-black cage with not a ray of light.

 

“Get out!”

 

The cloth was pulled off, and the sudden flood of light blinded me as I was dragged out.

 

After a while, as my eyes adjusted to the light I hadn’t seen in so long…

 

What I saw before me was…

 

“This is your new home.”

 

A massive colosseum.

 

Apparently, I hadn’t even been put up for sale as merchandise.

 

“Go ahead, twist those ankles all you want, kid.”

 

Whether it was out of spite or not, I had been damn well express-delivered straight to a place perfectly suited to my so-called special talents.

 

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Surviving in a F*cked-Up Fantasy World

Surviving in a F*cked-Up Fantasy World

Surviving in a Damned Fantasy World, 망할 판타지 세상에서 살아남기
Score 7
Status: Ongoing Type: Author: Released: 2024 Native Language: Korean
The world I was reincarnated in was too f*cked up to be a fantasy world.

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