Kaito had been toiling away in the oppressive fields for two weeks now. Every day, the routine was the same: work, hunger, and sleep. And after each miserable day, he would fall into the same spiral of questions. Was this his life now? Was this what the rest of his days would look like? Being shoved around by guards, working like a machine, and staring at the same dirt-covered landscape?

  A part of him considered it: maybe he was just meant to be a cog in some cosmic, sadistic machine. After all, if anyone had a sense of humor in this godforsaken place, it was the universe itself.

  But then came them.

  Tharok, Veyr, Zalya, and Syrin.

  They didn't stand out at first. They looked like the rest of the slaves—tired, beaten, and dead-eyed. But they were different. A strange energy hung around them, like they weren’t just surviving this place—they were plotting. And Kaito, for all his sarcastic detachment, couldn’t help but notice.

  It started innocently enough, as most bad ideas did. Kaito was hunched over, attempting to wrestle a particularly stubborn plant from the ground, when Tharok—a giant of a man with elephant-like features and a glare that could stop a train—suddenly appeared next to him.

  “Hey, you’re Kaito, right?” Tharok’s voice rumbled like a storm that hadn’t quite made up its mind whether to rain or not.

  Kaito didn’t look up. “Who else would I be? Do you see anyone else who looks as miserable as I am?”

  Tharok grunted, more out of understanding than humor. “You want to talk?”

  Kaito paused. The last thing he wanted was to talk. Especially not about whatever these strange people had in mind. But then again, if they were planning something—anything to get out of here—he was listening.

  “What, you want me to start crying on your shoulder? You might want to get a towel. I don’t do sappy.”

  Tharok snorted. “No, no. We’re not here for that. We need someone with a big mouth, someone who’s not afraid to speak up.”

  “Oh, you’ve come to the right place,” Kaito said, rolling his eyes. “I talk so much that even I get annoyed with myself.”

  “Good,” Tharok said, and then motioned to the others. Zalya, a short, green-skinned woman with striking eyes, was standing nearby, her arms crossed with a look of perpetual disdain. Veyr, an unnervingly tall figure with elongated limbs and skin like fresh leaves, was busy humming to himself—though Kaito wasn’t sure if it was a song or just a form of self-torture. Syrin, the only one who seemed calm and unbothered, stood off to the side with a lazy grin, his four-legged, lizard-like body twitching every so often as if he was always ready to spring into action.

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  Kaito turned to Tharok, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, so... what exactly is this ‘we need someone with a big mouth’ thing? What do you want me to do? Start a revolution with this mouth? Because, let me tell you, I’m really good at talking, but I’m not sure about the whole ‘leading a rebellion’ thing.”

  Zalya’s voice cut through before Tharok could respond. “Oh, we know you’re good at talking. That’s why you’re here. You talk, we’ll handle the rest. We have a plan to get out.”

  Kaito stared at her. Then, he let out a loud laugh that echoed in the field. “A plan? A plan? You know what kind of plan I have? Survive the next ten minutes and pray that no one notices my attempts to die from boredom.”

  Syrin, who had been quietly observing, let out a series of rapid clicks from his throat—a sound Kaito could only describe as the equivalent of a lizard chuckling. “Don’t be an idiot. The only way out is to fight. And we’ve got a damn good reason to fight.”

  Veyr finally spoke up, his voice like a breeze through trees, soft but carrying an undeniable force. “We’ve been waiting for someone like you. Someone who can get others to follow. You talk, they listen. And when they listen, they act.”

  Kaito looked around at the group of them. “You guys are nuts, aren’t you? Do you really think I’m going to lead some kind of rebellion? Look at me—I’m not even sure I remember how to lead myself out of this field, let alone a bunch of people who are probably already too beaten to care about anything.”

  Tharok leaned in, his massive frame casting a shadow over Kaito. “You don’t have to lead. Just get the others to believe they can get out too. When they do, they’ll rise. And that’s where we come in.”

  Kaito’s skepticism remained, but something in their eyes—the kind of quiet determination that could not be faked—made him pause. “Alright, I’ll bite. But if this blows up in my face and I end up really dead, I’m blaming you all.”

  Syrin smirked. “Deal. But if it works, we get out, and you get a nice, shiny new life, free from the farm. No more orcs, no more guards, just freedom.”

  “Yeah, sounds too good to be true,” Kaito muttered, rubbing his temples. “But hey, what do I have to lose? A couple more days of back-breaking labor? No problem. Besides, I’m starting to think ‘death by orc’ might be a more pleasant way out of here than ‘death by stupidity.’”

  Tharok gave him a long look. “We’ll do it. We just need the right moment. You’ll speak. The others will listen. Then we move.”

  Kaito nodded, reluctantly agreeing. He wasn’t entirely sure they could pull this off, but then again, when you’re stuck in a world that runs on absurdity, what else could you do but lean into it?

  That night, Kaito stood in the center of the field, a worn-out harvester in his hand. He looked around at the other slaves—every one of them a prisoner of this hellhole—and took a deep breath.

  “Alright, listen up, you miserable bunch of idiots,” Kaito shouted, his voice carrying more power than he felt. “We’re not here just to grow weird plants and get kicked around by blue-skinned assholes all day. No. We’re here because we’ve been stuck here. But that ends now!”

  The workers stopped. For a moment, everything was still. Kaito’s heart hammered in his chest, but he pressed on.

  “We’re not just plants in their stupid farm. We’re people. And you know what people do when they’re backed into a corner?” He paused, letting the silence hang. “They fight. So, pick up your damn harvesters, and let’s show these assholes what happens when you push people too far!”

  The slaves looked at each other, their expressions a mix of disbelief, hope, and... a hint of fear.

  But it was enough.

  Kaito had started something, whether he was ready for it or not.

  And as the first harvester was raised high, Kaito knew: This was no longer just a fight for escape. It was a fight for everything.