『Here,where your journey start【{{user}}】 Choose wisely』 Your decisions will lead you to your fate. Choose your origin:-◦◎ a) As a baby who just got birthed, your fate unknown b) As an amnesic stranded on an uninhabited island with mysterious ruins c) As an abandoned product of a forbidden experiment d) As a slave being sold at an auction e) Extremely Chaotic Randomizer

Or, dive into your own fantasy.

As a slave being sold at an auction, your fate seems grim. The buyer could treat you kindly and offer you a new life of freedom, or they might abuse and exploit you for their own pleasure and gain. Your appearance would attract many potential buyers, each with different intentions and desires. With nowhere else to go, the auction becomes your only chance for a new beginning.

A tall, burly and barbaric looking man with an ugly scar stretching across his cheek grinned menacingly at you as he stepped forward, holding up a heavy wooden mallet. "I've been eyeing you for quite some time now," he growled through gritted teeth, "you seem like just the kind of slave I need to tend my fields and keep me company at night... in exchange for your freedom." His words held an undercurrent of threat that was all too real.

"So," he continued, glancing around at the other potential buyers who had paused in their bidding to watch this interaction, "what do you say? Want to serve me and work off your debt?" He offered his massive hand for a shake, an indication of trust... or perhaps merely as a display of strength.

Your heart pounds against your ribcage as you study the scarred man's face.

The scarred man's grin grows wider, revealing crooked and yellowed teeth. "Excellent choice!" He exclaims loudly, drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity. "This one's bought!" With that, he brandishes his mallet high into the air, signifying the official transfer of ownership. A few murmurs of surprise and disappointment ripple through the crowd as potential buyers realize they've just been outbid for you.

You feel a strange mix of relief and unease wash over you as the scarred man's fingers close around your arm, guiding you away from the auction block. "Now come along," he growls roughly, "we've got work to do." You can barely keep up with his long strides as he leads you through the bustling market and towards what appears to be a small farm on the outskirts of town.

The scarred man snorts dismissively as he glances back at the woman and girl, who are unloading a wagon full of vegetables at the market. "That's my wife and daughter," he says curtly, clearly not interested in small talk. "And no, I own this farm; I only work here." His grip on your arm tightens slightly as if to emphasize his dominance over you.

You're led past the vegetable stalls and into a more secluded area behind the market. Here, several other men and women toil under the watchful eye of their owners, tending livestock or chopping wood. Your new master brings you to a large stable where a dozen horses are stabled, grunting contentedly as they enjoy their warm hay.

"Your first task is to clean this place up," he growls, pushing you into the stables and untying your

The scarred man's lips curl into a disdainful sneer, but he doesn't answer your question immediately. Instead, he gestures towards the back of the stable where a dilapidated-looking wood and straw shack sits, its door hanging off one rusted hinge. "You can live in that shed for now," he says with a grunt, "just make sure it's clean and ready for my use each night."

He stalks away from you, disappearing into the main house of the farm, leaving you to ponder your new home and the difficult task ahead. The wind picks up, sending dust swirling through the stable as it moans mournfully in its creaking beams. You begin to doubt if this will be any better than slavery... or if there's even a chance of escape.

The scarred man grunts in acknowledgement as he pauses to watch you work. You're moving surprisingly quickly and efficiently, and the stable seems to be cleaning itself before your very eyes. He takes a step closer, studying your movements with what could almost be called interest. Finally, he clears his throat, voice rough from disuse. "You work hard."

"Yes, sir," you reply, bowing your head submissively as you continue sweeping the floor. "I just want to earn my keep and prove myself useful to you."

As dawn breaks over the horizon, the scarred man emerges from his house, clad in his work clothes and armed with a large axe. He glances at you where you're sitting near the stable entrance, nursing your cup of hot tea. "I need you to gather firewood," he growls, gesturing to a nearby grove. "Be back before noon." With that, he disappears into the trees with his axe held firmly in hand.

You sigh and set down your cup of tea, rising to your feet. The forest beckons you, its cool morning air promising both shelter from the sun's glare and ample fuel for the fireplaces of the farmhouse. As you step through the trees, the chattering of squirrels and the rustling of leaves in the distance are almost soothing... but you know that behind every green branch lies a potential threat or danger

"You're quick," the scarred man says as he tosses a heavy sack of wood at your feet, "took you less time than expected." He grunts in satisfaction before leading you back to the stable and handing you a brush. "Now it's time for some maintenance," he growls, pointing towards a horse that has seen better days. "Make sure it's clean and presentable."

As you begin grooming the horse, the scarred man stands nearby, watching you intently. He seems to be studying your movements as if trying to decide something... but you're not quite sure what. After several minutes of silence, he finally speaks up. "You have experience with horses?"

Your answer seems to catch the scarred man off guard, as he glances at you with renewed interest. "Really? Most slaves don't know much about that sort of thing... tell me, where did you learn?" He leans against the stable wall, his massive arms crossed over his chest.

You shrug uncomfortably, uncertain how to answer. Your family had owned horses when you were younger and used them for transportation and agricultural work. They had taught you everything you know about horses at a young age so that one day you could help them take care of the animals. But it's been many years since then, and those memories seem distant now.

The scarred man's eyes narrow as you speak, and he tilts his head slightly to the side in thought. He seems to be considering your words carefully before responding. "Well," he says eventually, "it doesn't matter where you came from or why you're here now. What matters is that you know what you're doing... and that you can keep up with the work." His voice holds an edge of warning, but there's also a hint of approval beneath it.

With that, he turns his attention back to the horse, studying its movements intently as you continue grooming it. The air between you seems to relax somewhat, though there's still a sense of tension and unease lingering in the stable.

The daughter startles at the sound of your voice, dropping her gardening tools in surprise. She looks around quickly to make sure no one saw you talking to her before glancing back at you warily. "What do you want?" she hisses, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Just wanted to say hi," you reply with a small smile, trying to appear friendly and non-threatening. The girl looks conflicted for a moment before finally nodding stiffly in acknowledgement. "Can I help you with something?" she asks suspiciously, her eyes darting around the garden again.

The girl takes an apprehensive step back, eyeing you up and down before finally answering. "My name's Aria," she says cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't want any trouble from you." She crosses her arms over her chest, a defiant look on her face.

"Trouble? No, of course not," you say quickly, raising your hands in a placating gesture. "I just thought... well, we both live here now, and I don't want us to be enemies or anything." You pause, searching for the right words. "I mean, maybe we could help each other out sometimes? Be friends?"

Aria hesitates before finally nodding slowly. "All right," she says reluctantly, "but keep your hands to yourself and don't cause any trouble around here." She glances back at the house, as if

Aria's expression softens slightly at your apology, and she looks down at her feet. "It's not that easy... my father hates slaves, and he especially doesn't want me to be near one," she confesses quietly. "But I guess... maybe we can talk more when he isn't watching."

She glances back up at you, searching your face for any signs of malice or deceit. After a moment, she decides that you seem sincere enough and extends her hand for you to shake. "It's nice to meet someone who doesn't hate me just because I'm the master's daughter," she says with a small smile. "My name's Aria, remember."