God Ash: Remnants of the fallen.

Chapter 602: Valestorm Captives.

Staring at the elegant ceiling above, Hunter wondered how many days he had been here.

It was difficult to tell the time here, in a land of Evernight.

Even now, staring at the opulence around him, Hunter was still dumbfounded by the fact that it existed.

It was as though he was in a different time period altogether.

Sure, there were signs of a destroyed civilization littered everywhere, but that was forced to not be the focus of your gaze.

Instead, your attention was brought to the newer things. As he lay there, admiring the delicate decorative murals, his mind was blank.

He had been here for only a few weeks...

A feet smacked the back of his head, but he didn't react to it. Despite having only been here for a few weeks, he was already used to this. However, others weren't like him.

"You damned bastard! Keep your legs to yourself!" Luke yelled angrily as he got up from the ground and kicked Manny in the behind.

The unfortunate Manny let out a startled yelp as he was awoken from his slumber,

"What the hell was that for, man?! Do you wanna fight?!" Manny growled angrily as Luke, ready to draw his blade.

"That's enough, you imbeciles. We are in such a a terrible position, and yet all you can do is fool around?" Lukas said snarkily.

Luke sneered, "Heh... At least we aren't deceiving ourselves. But you... You are just as much of a foll as the rest of us. And yet, you don't want to admit it."

Lukas' turned to glare at Like, his gaze sharp,

"I dare you to say that again..."

Hunter let out a sigh as the others continued to bicker. Floki and Rollo on the other hand simply sat in a corner of the room side by side, a blank expression on their faces.

'They've been here for quite some time, so it's only natural they are more stressed out.'

This place, Valestorm, was their prison.

Well, not the entirety of Valestorm, just a certain part of it.

Hunter stared deeper at the murals at the ceiling. In reality, they weren't murals. Instead, they were simply a series of cracks running across the ceiling, producing various interesting patterns.

After they had arrived at the Dome of Sands, they had been welcomed in to escape the tide of Devils rushing at them.

Initially, they had all been relieved, but the next hour, things quickly changed for the worse.

They captured them all. Had they been in prime condition, perhaps they might have been able to escape. However, they had been exhausted and drained from all the fighting they had done earlier. They were taken done and separated.

Evangeline, perhaps having foreseen this, had disappeared, carrying the rest of the girls with her long before they had been captured.

Hunter cursed his ill luck, but there was not much he could do about it.

They were being kept in this concentration camp at the outskirts of the new City of Valestorm alongside other criminals. People who stole, who killed wrongfully, who blasphemed against Balangol; they were all criminals.

To pay restitutions from their sins, they were forced into hard labor, doing the work of building up a new City from the remains of the old one.

They had Suppression Collars on their necks that prevented them from using circulating any mana. While it was possible to use Ki, most of the people here were also proficient in using Ki. Meaning it would be almost impossible to brute force their way out.

As such, they could only abide for the time being.

All six of them were kept in a single room, so the place was more than a bit cramped. Hunter had lived fairly well back in the military camp, but the moment he was transferred here, the quality of life had greatly reduced.

It would be easy for him to point fingers and blame, but that would be meaningless.

Instead, he had to quickly come up with a way to escape this situation.

'I have no doubt Cain is making his way here. The question is what then? Even if he gets here, what can he do?'

Hunter had great confidence in Cain's strength, but even then, there is a point where confidence changes and becomes plain stupidity.

He sighed again,

"Keep it down. Save your strength. We have work to do. Those guys will come over here any minute."

The bickering Luke, Lukas, and Manny all fell silent, their faces dark and grim.

Lukas sighed, "Conserve your strength. You're going to need it."

Not even five seconds later, a heavy bang could be heard as the door flew open.

A huge man carrying a heavy chopper blade on his back and a whip in his waist walked into the room alongside three other smaller men, making the small room even more crowded.

He had two scars across his face, both coming from one side of his temples down to his chin to make an 'X' mark.

"You whiny bastards are up, huh... Good, very good... I don't have to use the whip today! Hahaha!"

Hunter didn't say anything, merely rising to his feet.

The others followed suit, their faces impassive.

Grand, the man with the X-shaped scar on his face snorted,

"Since when did y'all become prudes? Alright, enough joking around. Get out!"

They all calmly walked out of the room.

The night was forever in this land of sands. Hunter covered his face to block out the sandy wind from entering his eyes.

That earned him a whiplash across the back from Grand.

The huge man grinned at him menacingly,

"Walk, Heretic!"

Saying nothing, Hunter continued his walk forward.

Manny looked like he was barely able to suppress his anger.

Hunter sighed, 'Don't do anything rash, Manny. It isn't worth it. For now at least...'

If there was one thing Hunter had in abundance, it would be patience. He was a very patient person. That caused him to be easily misunderstood and taken for granted. But he preferred it this way.

They continued they walk until they arrived at the construction site.

The New City of Valestorm was the place for humans who diligently worshipped the God of the Sands and Death.

It was a citadel for Pilgrims. Pilgrims were those who had mastered the ancient art of mana manipulation granted into them by the Divine wisdom of Balangol.

The more common, less complicated iteration of this ancient art, is called Mana Tech.

It was easy to differentiate the Pilgrims from normal people.

For one, they all wore flashy, opulent robes and cloaks as well as trinkets made from magical ores and stones that boosted their capacity for magic. What really made them stand out the most though, was their masks.

Each and every one of them wore masks. They ranged from plain white ones to distinct demon-face masks.

Unlike mages, they didn't use wands and staffs. Instead, they either wielded scepters, scythes, scimitars, or sickles as their weapons of choice.

One such Pilgrims was standing on the remnants of a spire, staring down at the construction project taking place here.

Hunter stared at the individual for only a split second before looking away.

Despite how they looked, they were incredibly dangerous. The Hunters and Soldiers of the military camp were child's play compared to these guys.

Worst of all, each and every one of them was Tier 1, or perhaps even above. Though he had no way of verifying that part.

The creation of the new City began with repairing of the damaged buildings within the City's boundaries. Any building that couldn't be saved was utterly demolished by the Pilgrims.

Whilst rebuilding, they were required to make certain changes here and there. This construction project has been going on for a long time now, longer than they'd been here at least. The entire place was quite different from what they were used to. It was like stepping through a portal into an alternate timeline.

The people of Valestorm went about their days quite normally.

Those blessed with access to the system were engaged in dangerous work. Most of them were Hunters that hunted Aether Beasts in the Sandsea. It was very dangerous, but they managed to get some sort of economy moving in this place.

Obviously, those blessed with the system were more fortunate than those that received paltry blessings and as such could only become menial labourers and shop owners. But at least their lives were safe and fairly comfortable.

The entire place was beginning to resemble a dry caricature of working society.

However, deeply, there was an underlying wrongness to it all...

Snapping out of his day dreaming, Hunter got to work.

There were a lot of buildings to repair and even more new buildings to finish. So, they usually were forced to work for as long as the Pilgrim in charge saw fit.

This could go on for what felt like days on end. As the bodies of all the labourers here was far stronger than a normal human's, the Pilgrims had no qualms working them to the bone.

They were unable to access their inventories thanks to the influence of Balangol. They were each given a portion of dried Aether Beasts meat everyday, but that was barely enough to supplement their calorie intake for a few hours with the amount of labor they performed.

At this rate, even with their superhuman bodies, it was only a matter of time before they were worn out to their bones.

When that happened, perhaps they would be disposed of.

Either way, Hunter knew he wouldn't allow that to happen.

Walking to a part of the site outside the Pilgrim's line of site, he dropped something on the ground and used his feet to cover it with some sand. Then he left.

A few minutes later, one of the other workers quietly made his way over. He smoothly used his bare feet to pick what Hunter has dropped on the ground, hiding it away from sight in a single, slick motion. This man's eyes shone with a sinister light as he calmly walked back to continue his labor.