He felt himself lying on the cold ground...

The moment he became conscious, a sharp headache immediately began to stimulate Dona's nerves.

In a daze, the short life of a boy named "Leon" flashed through his mind.

In his heart, the joy of his father teaching him hand-in-hand how to draw a hunting bow still lingered.

Above his head, the gentle touch of his mother's hand stroking his hair remained for a long time.

The evening glow of his childhood walks along the countryside roads seemed like it was just yesterday...

Red—the color of blood. The cold gleam flashing was the mercenaries' swords. The blades reflected the pathetic face of a cowardly and fearful boy. His mother's pleas and dying screams ignited flames within the boy's heart.

Anger and hatred finally overwhelmed fear, but the powerless rage was meaningless. The boy was knocked to the ground, and before losing the last thread of consciousness, he heard only the mercenaries' violent and mocking laughter.

...

He suddenly opened his eyes. The hideous bloodshot in the boy's blood-red eyes had yet to fade.

As his memories gradually became clear, Dona frowned, trying hard to dispel the residual hatred in his heart that did not belong to him.

He panted, soothing his tense body, and tried to prop himself up, only to find his hands were bound by a crude pair of shackles.

Turning sideways to adjust his posture with difficulty, he finally leaned against the coarse wooden fence beside him, inch by inch lifting his upper body, so he could raise his head and look around.

A cage that held many people. Outside the cage, there was a large area of similar prisons.

The people imprisoned were in situations similar to his. There were men and women, but none elderly.

Those imprisoned were basically young adults, teenagers, and even children as young as seven or eight. People either wore tattered clothes stained with dust and filthy blood, or had even been stripped of clothes to cover themselves. Many bore scars from abuse.

Sparse sobbing sounds came. The mercenaries rudely scolded and mocked in a strange foreign language. The expressions of the imprisoned were numb, fearful, or full of hatred. The air was filled with a suffocating oppressive atmosphere.

Somewhere in the camp, Dona realized he had become a captive... a slave.

He took a deep breath for this difficult-to-accept reality, then slowly exhaled, barely calming his newly awakened mind, trying to sort out the tangled thoughts in his mind.

Who am I? ...Leon?

No.

I am Dona.

The torrent of memories from this body couldn't overwrite Dona's self-awareness. His consciousness easily pierced through the residual soul fragment of this sixteen-year-old boy and found the information that truly belonged to him.

Dona, twenty-six years old, single, parents alive, no bad habits, in good health—a common office worker found everywhere on Earth...

Recalling up to this point, the headache struck again. Those once-familiar memories were so blurred and distant. Dona frowned and held his forehead.

Temporarily setting aside the memories, he looked up and glanced at the attire of the mercenary guards outside the cage.

Spears, longswords, chainmail, iron armor, crossbows... In the era Dona was from on Earth, no matter how backward the country, it would be impossible to have soldiers in this medieval cosplay style.

And the bloody and brutal scenes in the dead boy's memories clearly told him that this was definitely not a movie set.

So, did I transmigrate? And it's soul transmigration. Did I come to ancient Europe, or a strange other world?

One unrealistic question after another arose.

Dona couldn't make sense of it. He didn't remember having any close encounters with a mud truck, nor could he recall what exactly happened before his consciousness entered this body.

He lowered his head, looking at the iron shackles firmly binding his wrists. Dona felt a bit lost.

As a modern person with a sound mind, no matter what, he didn't want to become a slave whose freedom and life were controlled by others.

For now, without considering the reason for transmigration, the most urgent matter was how to escape.

He calmed his mind and searched through the memories of the boy named Leon for any information that might help him understand the current situation.

...Therian Kingdom... Saint Sol Church... Holy City... Rolannar... The invading army of the Kantadar Kingdom pressing in... War... Invasion... City breached... Plunder... Massacre...

Gradually piecing together the memories of the original owner of this body. The boy named Leon was just a child from an ordinary hunter family in a forest settlement on the outskirts of Rolannar, the Holy City. Before the war, he and his family lived a relatively stable life until the army of Kantadar from the west invaded in force.

"You're alive... Yesterday, I thought you were dead."

A calm voice seemed to be speaking to him.

Dona snapped out of his thoughts and looked over. It was a brown-haired boy who appeared not much older than fifteen or sixteen. Despite being in the same disheveled state, his skin was still fairer than most people in the cage.

Dona guessed that before being captured, he might have come from a relatively affluent family that didn't engage in manual labor. Otherwise, commoners at the bottom wouldn't have such fair skin under the sun's exposure.

"Uh... Who are you?..." Dona asked in a hoarse voice, suppressing the dry cough in his throat.

"Who I am doesn't matter. You should thank that lady. If it weren't for her insistence on feeding you water these past two days, you might not have survived." The fair-skinned boy said expressionlessly, nodding in another direction.

Dona turned his gaze. The person the boy indicated was a woman in her twenties. Although inevitably disheveled and haggard in such circumstances, it was still evident that her appearance was gentle and outstanding.

"Thank you." Dona expressed sincere gratitude in his hoarse voice to the lady who had cared for him during his coma.

In such a miserable environment, someone willing to care for a half-dead injured person truly possessed commendable character.

The lady barely managed a difficult smile and nodded slightly at him in response.

Dona noticed that beside her stood a well-built boy, who looked at him with eyes as wary as a wounded beast.

His appearance was sixty to seventy percent similar to that of the kind lady—they were likely related, perhaps siblings based on their ages. The boy's physique was robust, showing signs of physical training, and his skin was tanned from sun exposure. However, the obvious bruises and swellings from mercenary beatings were also prominent on his body.

Dona averted his gaze, avoiding provoking the boy. He understood that the boy's unfriendly glare was not out of malice. In such chaotic and cruel circumstances, he simply wanted to protect his only remaining family.

Continuing to observe the other people in the cage, they were more or less the same—one by one, their faces ashen like walking corpses, few without injuries. Even the lady who had cared for him bore bruises and marks from abuse. Dona didn't want to think about the pitiful ordeals she must have endured.

Shifting his gaze away from his fellow captives, Dona examined the cage behind him. It was very sturdy; breaking it from the inside was impossible. Even if they could escape the cage, unarmed and weakened prisoners stood no chance against the armored and armed mercenary guards outside.

After pondering repeatedly, he finally sighed helplessly. For now, it seemed there was no other option but to wait.

Time passed slowly and torturously. Even a few hours felt like centuries. Dona had never experienced such agonizing torment. The previously mundane and tedious life of a corporate drone now seemed like heaven in comparison—after all, he had freedom back then.

After a long while, the sky began to darken.

(In Uria language) "Hey! You Therian swine! All of you get up and eat!"

The shouting of mercenaries in an unfamiliar language interrupted Dona's idle thoughts.

He looked toward the noise. Several Kantadar mercenaries were dragging burlap sacks to each cage, shouting rudely in their foreign tongue, and tossing items resembling food from the sacks into the cages—their attitude like that of feeding livestock.

Several chunks of dry rations were thrown into Dona's cage, followed by two large leather water bags.

Dona looked at the grayish-black food fragments rolling on the dust-stained ground. He mentally counted; the mercenaries hadn't even provided enough for the number of captives in the cage—not enough for one per person.

While Dona was observing others' reactions, the dark-skinned boy was the first to rush toward the food. He swiftly grabbed two pieces of dry rations and snatched up a water bag, then ran back to his sister's side.

The others then moved forward, picking up the closest rations.

The whole process was free of scrambling. First, they hadn't reached the point of starvation. Second, the captives lacked the strength and spirit for unnecessary disputes.

Dona hadn't managed to pick up any of the rations before they were all taken, so he simply sat back in the corner. Though hungry, it was still within tolerable limits.

At least there was enough water to drink. The two large water bags were passed around among everyone; after all had drunk their fill, there was still some left.

When it was his turn, Dona forced himself to disregard any discomfort about using a shared spout. He slightly lifted the nozzle, pouring water into his mouth, finally relieving the dryness in his throat.

In extraordinary times, he couldn't afford to be squeamish.

After quenching his thirst, Dona passed the water bag to the next person beside him. His gaze unintentionally drifted toward the siblings, just in time to see the lady who had cared for him during his coma looking back at him.

She wore a faint, apologetic smile, clutching the dry rations her brother had forcefully obtained for her, hesitating to eat. She had noticed that the newly awakened Dona hadn't received any food.

Her expression showed a brief struggle before she stood, intending to share her food with Dona. However, she was immediately pulled back by her brother.

"Sis, you didn't eat enough yesterday!" The robust boy didn't lower his voice. His tone was both firm and concerned, clearly unhappy with his sister's overly compassionate actions toward others—this was why he had proactively grabbed two portions of rations earlier.

Dona could hear the boy's amplified voice, obviously meant for him to hear. So he sensibly waved his hand.

"Thank you for your kindness, but I'm not hungry yet."

Dona politely declined. Even without her brother's protection, he wouldn't feel comfortable continuously accepting care from this unfortunate lady.

"I'll share half with you. I'm not that hungry anyway," a voice suddenly interjected.

Dona looked over; it was the fair-skinned boy who had spoken to him earlier. The other's sudden kindness surprised Dona.

He watched as the boy walked over and sat down beside him, breaking his ration in half and handing it to him.

"Uh... thank you." This time, Dona didn't refuse and gratefully accepted the food.

"You asked earlier—I'm Azerion Fraliel, Azerion of the Fraliel family. And you are?" The fair-skinned, brown-haired boy took a bite of the dry, hard-to-swallow ration, then seemingly casually asked Dona.

Dona hesitated briefly, but considering that his real name sounded similar to the original name of this body, he let go of his reservations.

"My name is Leon, no surname." Dona chose to follow local customs, using the original name of the boy's body.

Azerion felt a slight surprise.

He had seen the obvious reluctance the other showed when using the shared water bag earlier, thinking he might also be a noble's child who hadn't yet adapted to the situation.

But now, there wasn't much difference, Azerion thought self-mockingly. Whether a noble's child or a commoner's offspring, they were now all slaves under the Kantadars' control.

After exchanging names, the two had nothing more to say, and the atmosphere once again settled into a resigned silence.