Murim : Struggle of the Weak

Chapter 5: Speculation


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I was lying on a cold, damp stone floor, staring blankly at the rough, moss-covered ceiling above me. The cell was dark and musty, with only a small sliver of light peeking through the iron bars of the window at the bottom of my door. My eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, but as I lay there, a strange symbol on the wall caught my attention. It was etched into the stone, and it glowed with a faint blue light. The symbol was complex and intricate, resembling four interconnected axe blades surrounding a small, round shield.

As I gazed at the symbol, the cell was momentarily bathed in light, revealing the intricate symbols and pictures decorating the walls under the moss. My eyes, which had adapted to the darkness, reacted violently to the sudden light and I felt a sharp pain in my head. I winced, closing my eyes and squeezing them shut, until the light faded and I was once again enveloped in darkness.

Suddenly, I heard a dull clanking sound and the window at the bottom of the iron gate opened. The space was small enough to only fit one small plate. A faint light peered through the space, and a small plate was pushed inside. The window was closed again with a metallic clang.

My sense of smell was the first to respond, and I wondered if it was food. I brought the plate to my face, but the smell was unfamiliar. It was clear that the mix of things was probably a collection of leftovers. Still, it would taste better than the moss that I had been scraping from the walls.

However, I hesitated to eat the food, as it was given to me by the man who had imprisoned me here. I couldn't tell the contents of the food and if it contained poison, I could die. But there seemed to be no reason to kill me now after going through the trouble of capturing and detaining me in this place. Was the man some kind of sicko who enjoyed watching his prisoners die? I wondered as I touched the food.

I was dressed in tattered rags, my clothes torn and dirty from my time in captivity. My hair was matted and unkempt, and my body was weak from lack of food and water. I had no weapons, no means of escape. I was completely at the mercy of my captor.

At first, I didn't have a choice, but now I could choose whether to eat the food on the plate or eat moss. After all, there was still plenty of moss left. So even if I didn't eat this food right now, I could still survive for a while. But that thought didn't stop the saliva drooling from the ends of my mouth. I had to get information about the food, if it was poisonous or not.

The means to get information in the dark, where a single light does not enter, were extremely limited. Since I could not use my vision, the most convenient means of obtaining information, I had to mobilize my next developed sense, which was my sense of smell. I sniffed the food cautiously, trying to detect any hint of poison, but it all smelled the same, a mix of different spices, I had never smelled before.

I was in a deep dilemma, should I eat the food or not? Hunger was gnawing at my stomach, and I knew I needed to eat something to survive. But the fear of being poisoned was too great. I sat there for what felt like hours, staring at the plate of food, trying to make a decision.

Please, tell me if this food is poisonous or not. I cannot survive on moss and mushroom alone, but I fear for my life if I eat something that may harm me.

I took a deep breath, almost sticking my nose to the plate. A lot of smells mixed in. It was as if the garbage had been collected in one place, and the various smells were mixed. Some were stinking, some still smelled pleasant. If it was the old me, I wouldn't be able to distinguish the smells mixed. However, being trapped in an underground space without a single point of light for a long time changed something in me.

I didn't know if it was due to the moss or my lack of use of my sense of sight, but my sense of smell had gotten sharper in this place. In this place, I could distinguish odors that could never be distinguished one by one. This subtle change gave rise to an idea in my head. 

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The reason why I was trapped here was so that my captors could make me into a weapon.

It didn't have any proof other than my increased sense of smell and touch. I compared the odors I could distinguish to those that remained in my memory. This smells like rotten fish and tea leaves. A luxury not available to many so either this place was near the sea or these people that trapped me here were rich. This is pork bone and the remaining shavings. The types of food on the small plate were incredibly diverse.

It was incredible that my sense of sense had gotten so sharp that I could distinguish all of these smells. I concluded that it wasn't poisoned because it was all the residue of food that someone had left behind. To some, it may have been just rotting stinky food, but for me, it was a valuable resource that provided a lot of information. There were more than five types of food that I managed to identify with a few more up in the air.

With all things considered, there must be more than one person involved in my imprisonment. I didn't think they would have made more than three by three square meters underground all for little old me. To prepare such a space, considerable funds and manpower were required. It meant that it was not a space that could be easily made by an individual. It also meant that my captors were well-funded and had a lot of resources at their disposal.

I felt a sense of hopelessness wash over me as I realized the gravity of my situation. I was trapped in a dark underground prison, with no means of escape and no idea why I was there. But a fire of determination ignited in my chest. If their purpose was to create a weapon, then I'll become that weapon that reaps their lives. I had plenty of time left, and nothing else to do here. The best thing I could do with my time was to think, guess, plan and prepare.

I carefully began to eat the food, taking small bites and savoring the taste, no matter how terrible it was. I knew that I needed nutrients other than moss to restore my stamina and muscle strength. Even if it was just a mix of garbage, it was still better than nothing.

As I ate, I reached out and touched the wall beside me, tracing the symbols and drawings with my fingers, somehow these symbols felt different from that glowing symbol, was this some kind of message ? The rough texture of the moss and the coldness of the stone wall were familiar to me now. The sound of me eating echoed through the darkness, the crunching and swallowing of my food the only noise in the silence.

I was dressed in ragged clothes, torn and tattered from my time in this prison. My hair was matted and unkempt, and my skin was covered in dirt and grime. I was barefoot, my feet calloused and rough from walking on the rough stone floor.

As I ate, I couldn't help but think about that glowing symbol. I imagined myself wielding the axe blades from the symbol on the wall, feeling their weight in my hands. I envisioned the small round shield, protecting me from my enemies. I would make sure that when the time comes, I'll be ready to fight and take my revenge.

The food may have tasted terrible, but it gave me the strength and determination to survive. I would not be broken by this prison, I would not be a victim. I would be a weapon, and I would use that weapon to escape and make those who trapped me here pay for their crimes.

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