Chương 2: Chapter 2

Lucien was jostled into consciousness by the shaking of the carriage. Groggily sitting up, he tried to move around, only to hear a metallic clank and a weight on his wrists.

Looking down, he realised his hands were chained to the bench he was sitting on, in the back of the carriage.

Looking around and realising he was all alone, he tried not to panic, and instead focused on his magic, only to feel it being sucked out by the chains.

Now he was panicking. He had spent a life without magic, yes. But he always wanted to have it. To be powerful. To be free. It was his dream.

And he was. He had magic. He had power. He felt unstoppable.

Had.

But now it was gone. He was weak again. Imprisoned. Useless.

He was arrogant and stupid. And now everyone he cared about was dead because of him. Again.

Scenes flashed through his mind. Of Madam Prich. Of the other kids in the orphanage. Of his childhood.

Then they were replaced. By flaming buildings, and dead bodies. Madam Prich's body.

Seeing the person closest to a mother to him in this life die brought back memories from his first childhood.

Him, standing alone in a kitchen, with hands covered in blood. With his parents dead at his feet.

His fault.

All his fault.

Then he remembered the mages who did this. The ones who killed his new family. The ones with the weird symbols. The ones who abducted him.

Abducted?

Grabbing onto anything he could - like a drowning man in the ocean holding onto a piece of driftwood - to distract himself from the fear and anger inside of him, Lucien thought about what that meant.

They killed everyone else. What were they going to do with him?

Before he could think further, his thoughts were interrupted by the carriage coming to an abrupt stop.

Listening in, Lucien could make out some muffled voices, before the doors were thrown open.

Deciding to do what he learned in his last life, mask his true feelings, he spoke first, "Well, the service here is terrible."

"Don't be a smartass brat, though I had figured you'd be terrified," he replied. Lucien realised it was the same guy who killed Madam Prich. He had a deep voice.

Trying to calm his anger, Lucien unclenched the fists he hadn't even remembered making, and smirked, taunting, "You must be used to people being scared of your looks, is that why you wear a mask? To cover up a face not even a mother could love?"

Lucien won their little debate. But he was still handcuffed, so he couldn't do much when the guy grabbed him by the hair, disconnected the chains to the bench, and threw him onto the concrete.

Getting up, Lucien tried to ignore the pain on his palms and knees from the scrapes, only to be pushed down by a foot on his chest.

"I told you not to be a smartass, brat!" The man spoke through clenched teeth. "Now you're going to regret saying that."

He kicked Lucien in the side, knocking him into the wall nearby and causing blood to drip from his lips. Lucien's head was spinning, and he was pretty sure one of his ribs were cracked. Thankfully, before he could dish out any more damage, he was interrupted, "that's enough, Barts, don't damage the merchandise."

Whoever this guy was, either he was in charge or made a good point, because 'Barts' immediately stopped. Though Lucien figured he was in charge, he just gave off that kind of an aura.

And even though Lucien was happy Barts was stopped, he couldn't stop the sinking feeling in his stomach at being referred to as 'merchandise'.

"Get up", the bigger guy, the one who had stopped Barts, commanded. Struggling and stumbling, Lucien managed to stand up on his own. Trying not to cry out at the pain from his ribs, he wiped away the blood still present on his lips.

Before he could say anything, the big guy instructed, "Move."

Something about him told Lucien he wouldn't be as nice as Barts, and that was saying something. So he started walking along the corridor he was in.

They walked for about five minutes before Lucien couldn't take the silence anymore - he needed to talk so he wouldn't think about everything - and spoke up, "so, introductions anyone? No? I'll start then, I'm Lucien, I'm a Gemini, I love long walks on the beach and curling up by the fire. Barts? Big guy? Who's next?"

"Stop talking."

"It's okay to be shy." Silence. "Tough crowd. Okay, big guy, you're gonna be called Smithy, and Barts, You're gonna be called Sarah, you just have a Sarah feel about you."

Clearly, Sarah didn't like that, judging from the fact he kicked Lucien in the side, sending him into the wall.

"Will you shut up!" Sarah screamed.

"*Cough*," blood coming out couldn't be a good sign. Now he definitely had a broken rib, maybe two. "Well Sarah, looks like it's your time of the month," he sassed. He really should have shut up, but he couldn't help it at this point.

Smithy's hand on his shoulder was the only thing stopping Sarah from giving him another beating. And, god, did he want to hit that irritating brat. To teach him not to talk back to his superiors.

"That is enough," Smithy ordered. He then walked up to Lucien and pulled out a bag from his pocket - god, how big were his pockets. Yeah, idiot, you've been kidnapped and are probably about to be sold into slavery, but yes, focus on his pocket-size - before placing it over Lucien's head. "This is a magical item that will keep anything you say inside. Now, you will behave, or we will make you behave. Understood?" Nod "Good, now start walking."

Walking with a bag over his head was difficult, and his injuries were definitely not helping at all, but Sarah and Smithy kept giving him directions - completely ignoring his injuries, which they caused, might I add - of where to go, while Lucien just muttered curse words under his breath.

Stopping abruptly because of the hand on his shoulder, Lucien strained to hear what the voices around him were saying.

"Is this him?" Asked a new voice he didn't recognize.

"Yes. Now, give us the money," came Smithy's voice.

The sounds of coins clinking filled his ears. Great, he was being sold.

Fan-bloody-tastic.

"I think you'll find it's all there," was the muffled reply of one of the voices he didn't recognize. It sounded like they had some kind of masks or helmets on.

"It better be," Came Smithy's voice. Man, I hate to imagine what he would do if it wasn't. Unless he did it to Sarah, anyway.

Soon enough, the bag was ripped off of his head, and Lucien had to close his eyes from the sudden influx of light.

Squinting at first, he opened them and saw Smithy and Sarah, as well as 2 new people. They looked like guards of some sort. Lucien's bad feeling was getting harder and harder to ignore because they seemed familiar. It was on the tip of his tongue.

"I guess this is goodbye, huh, boys," he teased, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "I'm gonna miss your company. Especially you Smithy, your humour's gonna be missed most of all."

Suddenly, a dark purple magic circled appeared underneath Lucien, and pain coursed through his body. It was like his blood was replaced with lava. Pure pain.

Dropping to his knees, he gasped for breath and tried to bear through the pain. When the circle finally disappeared, and the spell stopped, Lucien was collapsed on the floor, writhing in pain.

"Slaves will not speak," came a muffled voice from one of the guards as he lowered the staff in his hand. It must be a magic item. Great, the guards here have pain sticks.

"Wow am I glad I saw that," Sarah shouted through laughter. Bastard.

"I'm. Going. To. Kill. You," mumbled Lucien through gritted teeth. Struggling, and on wobbly knees, he stood up, looked at the two who brought him here, and spoke as clearly and as calmly as he could, "I am going to kill you for what you did." He couldn't contain his feelings any longer. He was scared. No, he was terrified, his arms and legs wouldn't stop shaking. And he was hurt. But most of all, he was angry. And that's what he was focusing on.

"You killed the people I care about, my friends, my family, and I don't care how long it takes," he was angry so that he wasn't sad, so that he didn't cry in front of these people who had just sold him into slavery, "one of these days, I will find you, I will hunt you down, and I will kill you." These walls he was trying to build around him were crumbling, and he couldn't hide his fear anymore. He was going to be a slave, no, he already was one. He didn't know where he was, he could be in Bosco for all he knows. Oh god, what if he was in Bosco.

Maybe a 10-year-old with such piercing blue eyes, filled with such hate, would have scared a normal person, but these people weren't normal. They were slavers. However, the oppressive and powerful aura he was emitting, powered by his rage and his fear, did. Conquerors Haki unconsciously exploded out from his body. And maybe if he were stronger it would've helped. He could've fought back. Escaped.

But he couldn't. He was just a little kid. In a strange world, filled with magic and danger. He may have been 17 when he died, but that wasn't old. He wasn't prepared to fight for his life. And so his will wasn't strong enough.

Soon enough, he was collapsed on the floor, without enough energy to even stand.

"That," Smithy began, "was almost something kid." His dry sarcasm was not welcome, and neither was his slow claps. "Now, you want to kill us, then good luck. But, you will have to survive first."

Lucien's consciousness was slowly fading due to expending his magic uncontrollably when his conquerors haki erupted. 'Dammit, why do I always fall unconscious. I don't remember the main cast losing this much. Ah, maybe if I can join Fairy Tail I'll get some of that main character luck.'

Straining his ears, Lucien managed to pick up what Smithy said before drifting away, "but if you manage to make it out, look for this symbol," he pointed to the mask on his face, "and you'll find us. Hopefully, by then, you'll be a challenge. And," I think this is the most I've heard Smithy speak, "in the meantime, welcome to where you'll spend, most likely, the rest of your life. Welcome, " he paused like the dramatic bitch he was, "to The Tower of Heaven." So, not Bosco.

Lucien's last thoughts before he passed out, upon hearing the name of where he was, could be summed up in one word, 'crap'.