MTLNOVEL Chapter 2: Into the Abyss
Chapter tow : Into the Abyss
In an unknown place and time
Amidst the rising ashes of the battlefield, the air was thick with the scent of burnt iron and charred flesh. The sky was shrouded in dense black smoke, obscuring the dying sun, as if mourning the blood that had drenched the earth. Scattered among the corpses lay a small boy, no older than five, motionless.
He did not know how he had ended up here. His memories were tangled, foggy, but the pain in his body was real enough to assure him that this was no nightmare. The only image that filled his mind was that of his mother's face—Lily, and the tears he never had the chance to see fall before darkness swallowed him whole.
When he awoke, he was surrounded by men with harsh faces and hollow eyes, scavenging the battlefield for spoils. There was no honor here, no noble warriors fighting for a just cause. This was a war between non-magical humans, a war born out of greed and arrogance, where men slaughtered each other for fleeting resources and power that would not last. There were no heroes, no righteous sides—only devastation, chaos, and bodies that would be forgotten.
These men were slavers, and when they found him alive, they wasted no time binding him and dragging him away. Ares did not yet realize he had traveled through time, nor did he know how far removed he was from the world he once knew. All he knew was that his mother was dead and that there was one name that fueled his hatred: James Potter.
The slave market was a place that reflected the darkest corners of human nature, where people were displayed like merchandise, where life held no value beyond the price it could fetch. It was a crowded, deafening place, filled with the stench of sweat and filth, mingling with the scent of blood and disease. Children sobbed, women screamed, and men stared blankly at their inevitable fate.
Ares did not cry. He did not scream. He only observed. He quickly learned that the weak were crushed here and that any sign of fear invited more suffering. He learned how to remain silent, how to conceal his pain behind steady eyes. Six months he spent in this place—six months long enough to break any soul. But he was not just anyone.
Nighttime in the market was even more brutal than the day. The guards found amusement in tormenting the captives, some beating them to death for mere entertainment. Ares learned to stay in the shadows, to avoid drawing attention. Food was scarce, water even scarcer, yet he endured. His will alone was enough to keep him alive.
Every night, he gazed at the sky, searching for an answer, for an escape. He knew he had to survive, but for what? What was the purpose? The name "Peverell" echoed in his mind, but he knew better than to speak it aloud. If anyone understood its significance, it could be dangerous.
And then, one fateful day, his time in the market came to an end.
A man in a dark cloak arrived, his face hidden beneath a heavy hood, surrounded by armed guards. He was different from the other buyers. He did not examine the slaves for physical strength or beauty—he was looking for something else, something Ares did not yet understand.
And when their eyes met, he knew his life was about to take a darker turn.
With only a few words, he was purchased. There was no haggling, no negotiation. It was as if the man already knew exactly what he wanted. Ares did not need to be a genius to realize that this was not a good sign.
As he left the market, the sun was setting—just as his old life had set six months ago. He did not know where he was going, but he knew one thing: whatever awaited him was far worse than what he had left behind.
When the carriage finally stopped in front of a massive stone facility with thick iron doors, he understood.
He had stepped into a future filled with darkness, and he did not know if he would ever find his way out.