Kael woke with an itching sensation on his back; someone must have treated his injuries, as usual. He bet it was the little maid.
Growl!
His stomach emitted a terrifying growl; his lips were cracked and dry. Raising his body, he sat up, making sure not to let his back touch the wall. It was then that he noticed the hard bread and the sachet of water on the ground. He sighed; it must have been the little maid. She was the only one who treated him better, who took care of his injuries and sometimes snuck food to him. If he were to wait for that perverted master of his, he would only be fed once a day, sometimes not at all.
Picking up the hard bread with his dirty left hand, he began chewing it. It was hard and tasteless, but he had seen worse. To facilitate chewing, he drank water to accompany it. In the blink of an eye, he devoured the hard bread and drank all the water. He tossed the sachet to the side where his master couldn't see it; he didn't want to cause a problem for the little maid, after all.
Growl!
His stomach grumbled as if to announce its dissatisfaction at not being satiated, but he ignored it. He had neither the privilege nor the time to entertain it.
It was time to think about a plan.
"I must escape, but how can I do it?"
As one might guess from reading many fantasy books, slaves were branded with a crest; a slave couldn't escape or harm their master directly, or they would die an excruciating death. Therefore, his options were limited. Option one: Do his utmost for his master to like him, to never let his interest wane. This pervert seemed to have a particular hobby, but Kael couldn't use it to his advantage. The problem would turn into something he didn't want to think about. He wasn't criticizing anyone; people were free to be with whoever they wanted, but he was not able to choose this option. Besides, from what he knew, society here was not open-minded like in his old world. He decided to forget that option.
Then came his second option: he must escape.
But accomplishing this was harder than plucking a star. Of course, if he had a cheat, it could greatly help him; hence his desperation to acquire his golden finger.
"Ah! If you're watching me, please send me my golden finger, you fucking retard god."
What began as an earnest plea ended with a curse; one couldn't blame him, though. He wasn't the patient type, you see; he was really pissed off right now.
He had no idea that the person he was cursing was watching him at that very moment.
°°°
At the same moment, in the divine realm.
"That fucking mortal is at it again, cursing me. I'll let him suffer a little bit."
The administrator didn't mind spitting out some vulgar language; she was really dissatisfied right now. With her lofty status, never had someone insulted her like this.
"Oops! There's certainly someone, that annoying bitch, but she has the same status as mine. I can tolerate it, but not this annoying mortal. I'll let him suffer a little bit more."
"Hmph! You'll come to beg me." The administrator crossed her arms, trying to accentuate her non-existent chest. Her sole flaw, if you put aside her reactionary nature, was that despite having lived for a million years, she sometimes acted like a child.
The administrator fiddled with the white orb, watching Kael's frustration; it was too much fun not to indulge a little.
°°°
Suddenly, Kael's body shuddered; someone must be plotting something bad behind his back. He shook his head to throw away those distracting thoughts and focus on the matter at hand. How did he escape his current predicament?
The key was the loophole in the rule of his slave crest. It stated that a slave was unable to directly harm his master, which meant he could indirectly harm his master. For example, causing his master to fall into a pit instead of him—the seal wouldn't activate—but this method was easier said than done. The person who created this slave seal and made those rules wasn't an idiot. Slave crests and their rules varied depending on whether the slave could use magic, was a powerful knight who used aura, or was a normal person like him. The stronger the individual, the stronger the slave crest and its rules would be. Obviously, someone capable of using magic wouldn't have the same rules or the same loopholes as he did; hence, the key to his escape lay in this rule, in this loophole. If he wished to survive, he must indirectly kill his master because even if he were to escape without dealing with him, his master could kill him with the snap of a finger. No matter how far he went, the slave crest would activate and instantly rupture his heart, something he never wanted to experience.
He had been given a second chance; of course, he refused to let it go to waste. He must escape, explore this world, and discover the wonders it had to offer. He would live this life to the fullest; he would live longer, doing everything he wanted. This was his vow, his goal, and whoever stood before it must be crushed. He didn't mind staining his hands with blood to achieve his goals, he swore.
So, please, send his golden finger already; with it, he could plan better.
"Oh benevolent God, please send your blessing on this unworthy soul, I beg." He prayed, even though he didn't mean a word of it.
Sometimes you had to suck up to others if you weren't in a better position. There was nothing wrong or shameful about it. Having lived on the street in his past life, he knew this truth.
Unfortunately, nothing changed. He almost exploded again, but he managed to rein in his emotions.
Calm down. Everything is for the sake of escaping, for the sake of the future, he hypnotized himself with those words; he must endure. That shitty God was indeed a real piece of shit, a sadist—there was no doubt.
He had no idea she was laughing at him at that moment.