Nevertheless, it reminded me that among my skills were some I definitely wanted to swap for others. But I wanted to do it when I was calmer and thinking clearly.

We reached the rock valley in the middle of the forest before sunset. I wanted to get off the car quickly and let Scoresbi do his job, but it didn't go as I had imagined. My ass was really sore, so my dismounting was a bit comical. While the old man parked the cart and untied the horses, I rubbed my aching bum.

"I would like to ask you to do something for me, miss." He said as he removed the harness from the horses.

I nodded. "Sure...?"

"Could you pick up some firewood in the woods?"

"Won't it be wet?!" I objected. It was raining when I woke up on the banks of the river Traim after all.

The old man shook his head. "It doesn't matter."

"I'll do it," I agreed.

In fact, I was delighted he asked me. I felt quite insecure and so embarrassed in his presence that I had just stood there while he worked.

Collecting wood calmed me down a lot. It was a pleasant activity that didn't require thinking. Despite the rapidly coming darkness, I had no problem orienting myself in the woods thanks to my skill [Night Vision]. I brought three full arms of wood to the camp in a few minutes. When I wanted to go for the next one, Scoresby stopped me.

"That's enough, miss."

"Really?" I asked him because I had doubts that this wood would last us all night.

The old man shook his head. "You don't want to walk in the woods in this darkness."

I didn't want to oppose him, but I didn't have a problem going out there. Scoresby quickly started setting fire in the already existing campfire ring. He was very skilled, and soon our camp was lit by the flickering flames of a campfire. It didn't escape my attention that he started the fire with some device. It was much larger than a lighter, but with essentially the same function. During those few months in the basement, I saw several magical items to know that this was one of them.

If the merchant has it, it must have been relatively affordable. Still, it didn't tell me anything about how technologically advanced civilization was. After all, they were using horse-drawn wagons here. On the other hand, I didn't care at all. My worries were completely different.

For example, my sore ass, being naked, starving, and being in the presence of a potential enemy.

The pain in my buttocks was bearable, and I just couldn't sit down. My nudity was resolved thanks to my tail and wings, even though they were getting quite stiff. I needed to move them soon. My stomach rumbled as I was really starving. It was no wonder because it had been more than half a day since I woke up. I haven't eaten anything since then, and who knows how long my body was in the river. But the dead body should not need any nutrients. On the other hand, the last mutation should.

It didn't change the fact that I was hungry. Despite his madness, the bastard fed us well. The human body needed a lot of nutrients to handle all those mutations. I suffered enough to handle this hunger.

The biggest problem was Liam Scoresby. At first glance, a very nice old man, but I could not be sure of his intentions. He could just as well lead me into a trap, his pleasant appearance only aimed to distract my attention and reduce my vigilance.

"Are you hungry, miss?" Old man asked me, his hand outstretched to me.

I blinked in confusion as he suddenly yanked me out of my thoughts. Scoresby was holding something in his hand. It was a piece of dried meat, and even though it didn't look very appealing, it smelled lovely.

I was already reaching for the meat when I hesitated. It could have been poisoned, filled with something that would put me to sleep, and in the morning, I could wake up again behind bars and with a collar around my neck.

The old man smiled and took a bite of the meat he offered me and ate it, just to offer it to me again.

"It's fine, see?"

I nodded, "Thank you."

I took the meat from him, and although I still had my doubts, I bit into it. Once I tasted the first bite, I couldn't stop, and the piece of dried meat disappeared in my stomach in less than a minute.

"I'm glad you like it," Scoresby said as he nibbled on his piece of dried meat.

I narrowed my eyes. Why did he say that? Was the old man glad I ate the food because it was part of his plan? Was the meat really poisoned? Maybe I'd better throw it up, but I didn't feel any changes in my body. I didn't felt sleepy or dizzy. That's why I decided to leave the contents of my stomach where it was.

The old man offered me another piece of dried meat and water from a waterskin. Of course, I waited for him to taste the meat and water first.

"I thought everyone had [Pain resistance]," he said. It was not a question, but a fact.

How could he know? Was he able to see my status? Because I thought that was not possible.

"How do you know?" I asked him, ready to flee or attack immediately. "How do you know I don't have [Pain resistance]?"

Scoresby grinned. "Then sit down, miss, and I'll tell you," he pointed to the ground.

"Oh," I said blushing.

I realized what he was talking about. He must have noticed that I had a problem with a sore ass.

"There is nothing to be ashamed of. My wagon is not exactly the most comfortable, and who is not used to it will suffer just like you," the old man said.

"I see..."

"But most people don't suffer as much as you do because their [Pain resistance] reduces the pain," he said, throwing another stick into the fire. "I thought [Slaves] had one similar skill among their class skills."

It wasn't a question, but I nodded. "That's right."

"I've heard that many slaves in Arda are ordered not to choose these skills. Their masters want them to feel pain when they punish them or when they want to enjoy the way their slaves suffer. They are barbarians," Scoresby said.

"What about the Sahal?" I asked him.

The old man smiled, probably glad he got more than a one-word out of me." It is forbidden. I'm not saying that everyone is treated well, but this is banned."

"Ah," I said with a nod and hesitated. "You said that there were professional slaves like me in the empire. What did you mean by that?"

"Um," he cleared his throat and drank water from his waterskin. "In the Sahal, slavery works differently than in the Arda. Only criminals and indebted people become slaves. The length of their slavery also varies according to their crime. Murderers become lifelong slaves. If they steal something and are unable to repay it, they become slaves until they work off the stolen item's value. Likewise, if someone is unable to pay off their debt, they can become slaves and work off the debt. Then there are the war slaves, captured soldiers. But in recent years, the empire was not in many conflicts. That is why you will not find many war slaves in it.

"To answer your question, let me start from the origin of most [Slaves]. If two slaves have a child in Sahal and that is allowed, then it is born free. The amount of punishment of his parents doesn't matter. When these children grow up, they are allowed to choose the profession they want and be who they want to be. I know that this is not the case in Arda, and the children of slaves are forced to choose the profession [Slave]. They are even more valued than slaves with title only.

"So you might think that there should be no such people in the Sahal. Who would choose [Slave] as their Class, right? Well, there aren't many, and most come from Arda. Like you, they managed to escape, though it is a mystery to me how you got across the border patrols." Scoresby said, shaking his head.

Guards guarded the border? Of course! How did I get through them? I have no idea, but it probably had something to do with the fact that I was just a corpse floating in a river.

The old man continued to explain. "So a professional slave is a profession in the Sahal, just like a blacksmith or a seamstress. People with this profession are hired for the work of slaves and are paid for it. Well paid, because thanks to their class, they do it really well and no one has to force them.

Sometimes people with this profession work as companions, but it is not so common."

"Companions?" I said aloud without wanting.

However, I wondered if he meant…?

"Whores, forgive my vocabulary, miss," the old man apologized.

"It's okay, I asked," I told him quickly. Fortunately, in the light of the fire, he couldn't see that I blushed.

Frederic Dungreen was undoubtedly insane, but I was grateful for one thing. He never raped me. None of the women or men who were in the dungeon were raped. He saw us only as test subjects, nothing more.