After an agonizing week, Aarav's fractured mind somehow pieced itself back together, as if his body had embraced the pain rather than resisted it. Yet, in an instant, he felt something strange—relief.
Where… am I?
His gaze drifted downward, landing on the scattered roots around him.
Carrots?
He slowly took in his surroundings—cold stone walls, iron bars, a damp, musty air thick with decay.
A cell…? What? They—? Am I going to be executed?
Panic surged through him, his thoughts spiraling into horrors more dreadful than the last.
How will they kill me? Will they crucify me? Carve into my back like a blood eagle? Or—
His mind drifted to a coffin-like structure, shaped like a goddess in serene repose. The moment its mouth creaked open, glistening iron spikes gleamed back at him.
The Iron Maiden!
Terror seized his throat.
"No… No, please! I want to go home! If this is a dream, I want to wake up! Please—!"
His voice cracked, swallowed by the shadows.
As the door cracked open, Aarav's breath caught in his throat.
He saw someone—no, something—standing there. Not quite human. He had only ever heard of such beings in myths, legends, and, of course, movies. His pulse thundered in his ears.
A giant? he mumbled, barely believing his own words.
The figure before him was nothing short of spectacular. Towering at least a foot taller than Aarav, the man's presence radiated power. His skin, unnaturally white, seemed to glow in the dim light, and his piercing green eyes shimmered with an almost supernatural intensity. A thick beard framed his face, enhancing his already majestic aura, yet his head was completely bald. His broad shoulders and sculpted physique gave him the appearance of a living statue—a Greek god brought to life, his lean, muscular body reminiscent of the legendary heroes of old.
The man smiled—an expression so warm it was almost disarming. But Aarav remained frozen, his soul barely tethered to his body.
The stranger spoke, his voice deep and commanding, though Aarav could not understand a word. Then, without hesitation, he knelt, placed a firm hand on Aarav's shoulder, and rose again, walking away.
Aarav's mind raced.
Is he trying to say… Prepare yourself?
As Aarav slowly grasped his surroundings, his blurred gaze settled on the ground around him—scattered across the filthy stone floor were strange root-like vegetables. Some looked vaguely like carrots, others twisted and swollen, rotting at the ends. A few were fresh… or at least, not entirely decayed.
"What the hell?" he muttered, his voice raspy, barely recognizable.
His mind, clouded by pain and confusion, suddenly cleared—like a fog lifting just long enough to let a single disturbing thought in.
"Is this… what I'm supposed to eat?"
He sat still, staring. The quantity didn't make sense. There were too many. Far too many. Had they all been thrown in at once? Or had they been piling up over time?
"No… this can't be right."
He leaned forward slightly, the movement sending a sting of agony down his back. His stomach, though oddly silent, twisted at the sight. Flies hovered lazily over the rotten roots, feasting and multiplying.
"How long have these even been here?"
He didn't know what was worse—the idea that someone expected him to eat them… or the possibility that no one cared if he did or not.
What is it…?" he whispered, voice barely audible.
Aarav's eyes trailed toward one of the decaying roots, its skin split open, oozing with a sickly yellow pus. A swarm of flies danced around it, drawn to its stench. The mere sight twisted his gut.
"Are they… going to force me to eat all of this?"
The thought alone was revolting. His stomach, though strangely untouched by hunger, churned at the idea. His body didn't crave food—but his mind, still rooted in human instinct, recoiled in horror.
He narrowed his eyes, watching the slow drip of rot.
Aarav didn't know what exactly these people wanted from him or what their real motives were. He was unsure. But something was bothering him… It was weird—like he knew, and at the same time, he didn't.
And then it hit him.
How long has it even been?
He looked at the only source of light—just a little window high up on the wall. Slowly, he tried to move his body. The pain was still there, but now... he could bear it.
His eyes widened.
Through the narrow bars, he saw something—a city. People walking. But they were people… right? That alone was surprising enough. The cell, the whipping, the silence—none of it matched this.
The city looked strange. Crowded, yet oddly quiet. That didn't make sense.
And then he noticed it.
Giants.
Every last one of them.
Aarav assumed the males must've been around 6'5 to 7 feet tall if he had to guess. The women? Somewhere near his own height—5'10—or maybe even taller.
Strange...
And then he noticed a group of kids.
They looked... normal.
Surprisingly so.
Not giants. Just... regular children. Like the ones back in his own world.
Who knows what they'll grow into though?
Then… a kid's eyes locked with his.
Aarav stiffened.
The boy walked closer, waving over a few of his friends.
Their clothes—though simple—were surprisingly decent. The guard or whoever that guy was earlier had rags and a cloth wrapped around his lower body, but these kids? They wore shirt-like tunics that actually covered them. Some even had shoes—crude ones, but still. Enough to walk.
One of the kids looked straight at Aarav, then down at his body.
Shit! I'm still naked.
Aarav's eyes darted to the pile of rags he'd been laying on.
Without thinking, he grabbed at it.
A… T-shirt?
Not exactly.
It was tattered, barely holding together, but… oversized. Way oversized.
Three times what he'd consider baggy.
Okay… definitely made for giants.
Still, it was something.
The kids stayed for a while, looking at him with a hint of curiosity.
To them, Aarav must've looked like a man with a girl's stature. Or maybe just a kid—barely older than they were.
They stared, then left.
Except for one little girl. She lingered, gazing at him with amusement in her eyes.
Guess I'm the foreigner now.
It was just like when someone walks into a country where everyone looks different… and every pair of eyes turns to you.
And these people were different—their skin color, their eyes, their entire presence.
After a while, the girl too walked away.
Aarav lowered himself into a gap in the wall, his hands resting on the stone.
A dark corner. Stillness.
Then he looked down.
Water?
There was a small hole. A bit of liquid pooled in it.
He sniffed it.
What the hell? How could any human drink that?
Time passed.
He sat there. Mind twisted, thoughts spiraling—each more pessimistic than the last.
Something felt… off.
The more time passed, the more he thought. The world seemed to wrap itself around his mind.
Something was wrong.
But he couldn't remember what.
Then it hit him.
Hunger.
Why don't I feel hungry? Or thirsty?
He was sure it had been five, maybe six hours since he'd sat down.
More time passed. The world grew darker. Still—no exhaustion. No cold. The stones didn't even feel uncomfortable. Maybe the rags helped, maybe not.
Why? Why can't I sleep?
He tried to pace, but with each passing moment, the horror grew.
Dusk faded. The sun began to rise again.
His mind was still sharp. Clear. Too clear.
What's happening?
His eyes wandered to the carrots.
How long?
More time passed.
Then—
Thud!
Another carrot.
His expression turned grim as he stared at the growing pile.
How long has it really been?