Chapter 85: The Slave Ship to Kame-shima
The ship rocked gently as it cut through the sea. Above deck, Captain Timothy had already called in a guard to deal with Daemon. Two officers grabbed his chains and dragged him toward the lower deck—toward the criminals.
"Number 234, this is your new home. Try anything stupid again, and you'll lose a limb."
The guard shoved Daemon forward. He stumbled and hit the floor hard, landing in the dim, stinking underbelly of the ship. All around him were chained men in oversized yellow prison suits, each with a numbered tag stitched to the chest. Some had dead eyes. Some glared like cornered animals. None looked friendly.
Daemon ignored the stares and sat in the far corner, lowering his head. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was getting to Kame-shima.
He could feel their eyes on him—glaring at his white hair and red eyes. Unique traits had always drawn attention, good or bad. He shut his eyes and waited.
Hours passed. He didn't know how long. Hunger clawed at his stomach. Just when he began to lose track of time, the heavy door creaked open. Guards stepped in with a burlap sack. One of them shoved his hand in and started tossing dried jerky across the floor like feeding dogs.
The prisoners lunged for it like rats, fighting and scrambling. Daemon didn't move at first. Then, without looking, he snatched a piece that landed near his boot and leaned back against the wall.
He chewed slowly, eyes half-lidded.
"Better than starving."
"Uh... hello," a quiet voice said beside him.
Daemon glanced up. A young boy stood awkwardly nearby. Dark-skinned, with short black hair and soft eyes. He couldn't have been older than twelve or thirteen. No aura. No mana. Just a regular, scared kid.