“It is finally completed,” a man in his fifties said.
He was well built, with his muscles perfectly defined for combat.
The few grey hairs he had did nothing to make him appear like an old man; instead, they added to his majestic appearance.
He wore a black attire that made him appear just like the emperor he was.
The attire seemed to have been made from some kind of living fabric and metal.
He stood over six feet tall, and his bright green eyes were filled with a coldness and a calm that could never be unsettled, even if the heavens were to collapse.
This was none other than Kata before he was reborn.
He now stood in a large room on a large ship cruising through space.
The ship was the only source of light for countless light years.
In the room, there were tens of scientists all going about their work, using all sorts of equipment, each of which was so advanced that they could be called magic instead of science.
The room was filled with screens covered with all sorts of figures and graphs.
In the centre of the room was a tiny spark of blue light.
It was as small as can be, but its brilliance filled the entire room and even reached outside the ship, making it appear like a sun in the vast blackness of space.
Kata moved towards the spark.
Each step he took was filled with conviction and an unmatched aura that could only be attained after one ruled over countless lives for a very long time.
“The god particle.
With this, my empire shall be eternal,” he said.
Suddenly, Kata felt that his life was in danger.
He moved so fast that the distinction between reality and his dream was completely ignored.
Kata jumped from the small bed where he had been sleeping, and in the next instant, a whip struck the spot where he had been resting.
He looked around while trying to assess the situation.
The tent was already ripped to pieces, and the few things inside were now closer to scrap than anything else.
A few feet away stood a human man.
He had a whip in his hands and he looked more than pissed at Kata.
The other Wena saw everything that was happening, but they made sure not to take notice.
It was as though they understood that this was none of their business, and making it so would lead to more trouble than it was worth.
“I hear that you like killing my slaves,” the man said.
Kata was confused for but a second before he remembered from the original Kata’s memories that the Wena were slaves.
The camp where they lived was more like a prison than a home.
They were allowed to enter the forest nearby, but they were not allowed to go far from the camp.
Those who tried to leave were captured, brought back, and whipped to death before everyone.
Their bodies were left out in the sun to be eaten by carnivorous birds and insects.
Even now, there were a few half-eaten corpses around the camp.
Kata had yet to fully assimilate the original’s memories, and so he had failed to fully grasp the situation.
He understood that there was no escape.
Everyone in camp saw him kill his father; they even saw him bury the useless man a few meters outside camp.
Wena slaves were very expensive, and this meant that what Kata did by killing his father cost the slave masters a lot of money.
Kata did not struggle as he was dragged away by three men and taken to the center of the camp.
There were only seven slavers in the camp, but they were more than enough to keep the hundreds of Wena in check.
Kata had dealt with people such as these slavers before, and so he understood that the best path to escape this situation was by submitting so that his punishment did not become his ticket to the embrace of death.
He was tied to a thick log that was covered in blood and other fluids.
“You will learn your place or you will die,” the master slaver, a thin tall human man, said as he cracked his whip.
Kata knew what had to be done, and he did it.
The first strike of the whip ripped through his back and shredded his flesh.
His purple blood splashed all over the place as pain moved through his body.
His spine tingled as though it had already reached its limit after this one strike.
“Whahaahaahaaaa!” Kata let out a cry that made all who heard it feel his pain.
Kata was still only about seven years old, and the strike was indeed very painful, but he could have taken it without letting out even the slightest cry.
He did not do this since it would only encourage the slave master to strike harder and for longer.
By screaming like a pig being slaughtered, the slave master got to feel a sense of power over his property and he would therefore be more likely to stop whipping Kata after a few strikes.
The man brought down a second strike and Kata cried out even louder.
The other Wena all just stood there and watched without saying anything.
Kata saw his mother silently standing in the distance.
Tears rolled down her face as she watched, but she did not dare protest.
She had witnessed hundreds of whippings and she knew that any interference only made the situation even worse.
Just as Kata had predicted, the master struck him seven times before he stopped.
Kata let out a sigh of relief that his new life did not end so soon after it had only just began.
He could already feel the wounds on his back knit themselves close.
“The Wena are truly blessed with an amazing physique,” Kata said as he walked towards the stone quarry with his mother’s help.
She carried him on her back and yet still managed to keep up with the other Wena.
All the Wena were being led to the quarry to begin their work—work that would go on for at least three days before they were granted another night of rest.