Part 2

Consciousness was slow in returning to Knight, but when it did, the result was explosive. He had attempted to stand up, but a searing pain in his shoulder stopped him in his tracks. The steely grip on his bicep threatened to dislodge the bone from its socket. With his head whipping back and forth disorientated by the combined strain of not being able to move and the darkness that surrounded him. It took him a moment to register the pain setting into his knees, like a burning sensation that came in waves of agony. He belatedly realised that he was being forcefully dragged on a harsh, rocky surface.

His consciousness, still barely there, had awoken just enough for the buzzing sound that was piercing his ears to finally be heard. Yet, he couldn't feel anything anymore, not even the hot pain of the rough floor, nor the tight grip of his bicep. His feelings, just as quick as they returned, had disappeared once more. It was like waking up from exhaustion yet his sense of pain did the opposite of what normally happens, it came back nearly straight away and disappeared soon after.

His hearing seemed to replace what disappeared as he heard clear words coming from above, and what seemed to be his knees scraping the floor. Yet, Knight could comprehend none of this. To him, the scraping could be words and the words could be the scraping.

It took him a minute to make out the outline of multiple figures passing him, and another to recognise what was dragging him. Yet, his vision still somewhat blurry and dark, he could only make out an oddly shaped arm.

A few more minutes passed as his pounding head quelled just enough for Knight's other senses to return.

Immediately, he felt an excruciating flame on both of his knees, causing him to cry out in agony.

"Aaaaarrrgh-" as soon as he let out this deep squeal, the cold hand clenched his bicep tighter, straining it with a popping sound.

Knight contorted his whole body and face into disturbing expressions, the screams of his body. He tried to clench his eyelids together to ease the pain. It didn't work, yet he kept telling himself it did.

More and more minutes passed, turning into hours. This was the reality inside Knight's head. The searing pain on his knees amplified by the dislocation of his arm, contorting reality and dragging seconds into minutes; this was Knight's painful perception of time.

That was how excruciating it was. The skin was already torn from his knee, and his bone being worn away. He wouldn't be able to walk if this kept going for a few more minutes.

Knight was being dragged incredibly fast. Hundreds of metres done as fast as the fastest human alive, yet this thing dragging Knight was only walking...

Luckily, before any real damage was done to Knight's knees, the dragging was stopped. He began to unstick his eyelids, a feeble light seeping through the cracks. His blurry vision showed him a dimly lit room a few metres ahead. With many lines of shadows created from what seemed to be stone bars. It was like a cell. A stone cell.

Before Knight could register that information, he heard a cold, grating voice from above, presumably the thing that had Knight's dislodged arm locked under his grasp. Though Knight was still suffering extreme pain and had no idea of the language this thing spoke, he knew it was full of sarcasm. Before his idle thoughts mixed with his pain, Knight was lifted slightly backwards before he was unceremoniously launched into the room like a sack of undesired potatoes.

This time, Knight's screams were not blocked.

"Aaaaaarrrrrrrrrgh!" Knight's voice was clear as he span through the air, ricocheting off the cold, hard floor before a hard-rocky wall broke it with a hard smack. It was the collision of his head and the granite wall that was the cause of the hard smack. The impact of soft bone on hard rock shook up Knight’s insides, forcibly emitting an uncomfortable warm liquid from his throat.

Knight could not hear the laughs of the many figures past the room, with a loud buzzing zipping in his head. The loud buzzing stopped his pain and lulled his mind, sending Knight into a slumber once again.

Due to his immediate sleep, he had failed to notice a small bundle of rags in the near corner of this stone cell. By the unusual lump of the rags, it seemed as if there was something hidden under the rags. What could it be?

* * *

Not even five minutes could pass before cold air grazed Knight’s legs, resulting in the roaring pain of his skinless knees waking Knight up, inadvertently making him cuss out in pain, “Shit, Shit, SHIIIIIIIT!"

Knight continued to cuss out in pain as he reflexed backwards, smashing his head against the hard wall, blood spluttering from his body to the outside, amplifying his pain, resulting in a change of words to vent his pain, “FUCK!”

As he continued to cough blood, he noticed that burning cold that plagued his knees was gone. His moon white tracksuit bottoms had been pulled up just past his knee and, matching his pants, he could see messy blood contrasting against a pure white. So that's what bones look like, do they? Huh, interesting…

The mess of his knees had received all of Knight’s attention, halting him from the realisation that his pants were rolled up, and he wasn’t responsible.

Knight's interest in his messed bone made him forget about his dislodged arm. He couldn't feel pain in that either. Whether he could use it or not was the question. His injured knees were fine, despite looking far from it; this wasn’t on Knight’s mind right now, but how had the pain disappeared? It was unbearable as soon as he woke up.

Before Knight could relive his journey here, he heard heavy breathing coming from the corner. Still with flickering vision, Knight squinted to see a bunch of rags lumped together to form a small pile. With his interests now on the rags, he unrolled his pants, covering his wrecked knees. Don't tell me that there's someone under them. Knight concluded this as what else could be breathing heavy like that? Though the size of the pile meant the culprit would be small, No, no, no. Don't tell me that it's gonna be that young girl that-

His mind froze. His breathing grew heavier than the breathing coming from the corner. He slumped against the rugged wall. His body began to slightly tremble. He slowly moved his quivering hands towards his face. Lightly clutching strands of his ash fringe.

Knights prior experience started to flood his mind, pushing out the thought of his skinless knees and popped left arm.

“Aargh!” Knight could not hold back this shout of frustration. “What the actual hell has happened?!”

Still breathing heavily, he brought his skinless knees right to his head, and laid his pale, dislodged arm over the bony knee, with his -intact- arm clutching his head.

“What the fuck, What the fuck, What the fuck, What the fuck, What the fuck…” Knight started to repeatedly mutter mindlessly out loud, not calming himself to survey his situation rationally.

Knight was too mindless to notice anything going on in reality, he could not hear the crying coming from the pile of rags. A blueish head of hair covered in grime could be seen poking out of the rags; it looked like whoever was under them had popped out to see why it could hear creepy, mindless muttering.

Nearly a minute of this muttering continued before Knight, still mindless stood up and screamed, “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!” Though as soon as he let out this confused scream, a yelp of frightened girl shook Knight out of his mindless thoughts.

‘Wait, what the hell am I doing? Going crazy out of confusion won’t make any sense, I’m pretty sure I died but I won’t get anywhere dawdling on a question that probably won’t be answered.’ Knight was back to his senses, and before he lay down to survey his situation calmly, he remembered the yelp that destroyed his temporary insanity.

‘I’ll think of what happened some other time, but why the hell is there a girl under a bunch of rags? Realising the rocky pillars acting as a barrier to leaving this room he found that answer, ah, so a convict? Wait, then why the hell am I here…?’ This was a question Knight needed to be concerned about, he had suffocated in a glade and was inches from death before the air had returned to his lungs, though Knight didn't spend time on that at all.

‘Hmmmm, well this situation feels like an isekai, though I’ve not seen anything ‘otherworldly’ so far. I mean, that forest was quite dull, but it could be anything… No, this is definitely some sorta isekai, what the fuck was that thing carrying me here?’ Knight remembered the black-spattered arm that had dislodged his arm from his socket.

Knight realised it was futile to keep worrying about the past and remembered the thing that was under the rag. Guess I'll check that out. Knight slouched over, lazily placing one hand in his pocket.

"Hey, someone under there?"

Knight was answered with silence. Or something close to silence as he could hear deep breath lung coming from the rags.

"... Um, I can hear you" Knights statement seemed to scare whatever was hiding under the rags as he could hear tears being wiped away.

How the hell did someone as scared as she is, get in a cell? Knight idly wondered as he bent down inform of the slimy dull rags. Ew, this smell, she must have been here for a while without a wash. Knight came to this conclusion as he could smell BO emitting from the bundle of cloth.

Hesitatingly, Knight lifted a mouldy rag from the top of the pile, careful to do it with the very top of his fingers.

Something moved under the pile and a new rag appeared before Knight could have a glimpse of what was under them.

Please, don't make this hard for me. I don't want to touch these. Knight pleading in his thoughts took another piece off.

"Oh, come on" moaned Knight as yet another rag appeared on the top.

Knight, still patient, repeated his last action once more, but this time his head was extremely close, hoping to get a peek at what was hidden.

"Oh, Fuck this" Knight exclaimed as another rag appeared.

"Just come out!" Knight, with his patience now gone, started throwing multiple rags off the pile, this time not bothered by all the grime getting on his hands. A minute passed but new rags were still getting thrown by an impatient Knight… they were new rags.

Realising this, Knight stopped, turning to look at the rags he had removed. On the new pile of rags, there was pure white cloth. What the hell. Knight turned back to the pile of rags that something was hidden under. They were all pure white. The quality was rough, but they were new, they appeared freshly made.

What the hell. That's just not possible. If this actually is an isekai then the real world common sense won't apply here. Knight, now thinking with a calm mind, sat down crossed-legged in front of the clean rags. Hmmm.

Suddenly, Knight grabbed the whole pile at once, holding it close to his chest.

"Eeek" That was unmistakably the voice of a girl.

Knight, having found a moment to pounce, ripped a handful of rags off the pile in his clutches.

"Gotcha!" Knight saw a small figure wrapped in white rags.

She had grimy dull hair; it was overgrown so much that it reached her feet. It was dirty and dishevelled. The colour matched her face. Her face was a greyish colour, exemplifying the fact that she had not washed in months.

Knight flinched at the smell that was emitted from the girl, loosening his grip, giving the girl space to break free and conjure some more rags.

Knight was too overwhelmed to notice this conjuring. He sat back against the rugged wall once again. Wow. Knight wasn't overwhelmed by the smell, nor the grey colour of her face. What made him ignore the fact that she conjured a rag out of nowhere was her golden eyes, shining against the dull complexion of her skin, attracting attention from whoever is to pass. In this case, it was Knight.

He was once again sat slouched against the granite wall, the jutted rocks creating a hard headrest.

Knight's thoughts were still concentrated on the petite girl’s eyes, the colour of the golden sun. They were undoubtedly the prettiest eyes he had ever seen, he almost thought that he wouldn't mind them on his shelf, what the fuck am I saying?!

Knight tried to shake off the weird thoughts that coursed through his mind. As he did this, his gaze drifted to his tracksuit pants.

Wait, why the hell am I not in excruciating pain when I was dragged against the hard floor my knees were on fire, now they're as good as ever. As Knight's thoughts drifted from the golden eyes, he pulled up both of his pant legs, revealing bloodied bone where his pale skin should be. Damn, looks worse than before. I didn't notice all this shit. This is hard to look at.

Knight wasn't really fazed by this, but he hadn't noticed the gouges that marked his torn skin, nor the ripped tissue that appeared on top of the bone.

Wait, this isn't a bone… Knight stroked his rough finger across the squishy tissue that showed next to his bloody, torn skin. This looks painful enough, I was screaming before and this is the result of that pain. But why does it not hurt in the slightest now?

Thinking about this, Knight moved his right arm to his face. Tried might be the better word to describe his action as his arm was still drooped on the rough ground, Knight could feel it, but he couldn't move it… simply because it was dislocated.

Hmm. Knight stared intently at his drooped arm for a while. Messing with it with his left hand, treating it like a swing.

Ah, Knight realised, it must be dislocated, I never listened in Physical Education, but I can deduce that with my limited medical knowledge. Knight, although undoubtedly intelligent, was not studious in the slightest. I guess it's not hurting due to the same reason as my skinless knees… But what reason is that...?

After hypothesising for quite a bit ("Maybe I’m in that dream I had yesterday and I’ll be saved by all the sweet babes.") and finally coming to the conclusion that it's probably some sort of weird magic as this is most likely an isekai, and that maybe it was cast by the prison people so the prisoners would do forced labour.

Although, he isn't sure of that fact; before he could do anything, he ended up in a cell, so he didn’t even know if the prison ‘people’ were even people.

The past developments all made Knight feel like sighing the phrase 'such misfortune' a few times. Although Knight refrained from doing so as he was sure he would be done for plagiarism, if not by copyright. So, he kept such words clear from his breath.

With the conclusion that his painless body is probably the cause of magic, Knight decided that he may as well get some sleep.

After all, he deserved a nice slumber after being forcefully put to sleep. Multiple times.

Knight scanned the room hoping to locate some sort of bed. How damn typical. And, not to his surprise, there was no bed. Just a rocky floor and rocky walls.

The only other things were a bunch of dirty rags that Knight previously stole from the rag-wrapped girl.

Well, might as well get some more. Knight's thoughts as he laid eyes once more on the pile of rags, right next to him, heaped together snuggly in the corner.

"H-hello?"

"..." Not too Knight's surprise, there was no answer.

Well, might as well.

Knight hoisted himself up, groaning from exhaustion, to a crouching position.

Knight stuck out his working arm, fingers stretched, just above the clean rags.

Knight waited a couple of seconds, for the optimal time, before deftly snatching a handful of rags from the pile.

Knight also half-hoped to get a glimpse of the girl again, or rather, her golden eyes. However, as he expected but did not wish for, another handful of clean rags were pushed to the same spot the others were taken from.

Damn, how the hell does she do that? Knight wondered as he walked over to the flattest part of the cell.

Hmmm, how am I gonna set this up? A couple of seconds of intense thinking past before Knight cracked it.

Knight unzipped his moon hoodie and took it off, struggling due to having only one arm available, and his weak one at that.

He then took off his black t-shirt, folding it up, Yeah, that'll do. Knight placed the folded t-shirt onto the flattest part of the floor. He then proceeded to cover it with rags.

He then placed about twenty more rags on the floor, covering about two metres, after he snatched more from the infinite pile. In the process realising that his moon tracksuit pants were still rolled up, and so he unrolled them.

Knight then proceeded to hesitatively lie on the rag covered floor, wrapping his jacket around him like a blanket.

For fucks sake, this is still rock-hard. Realising that his efforts had made virtually no difference, Knight tried moving his hood under his head, with the jacket still wrapped around his chest.

Well, this is the best I'm gonna get. Knight thought as he kicked his trainers off and tried falling into a nice long slumber.

* * *

Nearly an hour had passed, and Knight's attempt at sleep was not a successful one.

This is just plain shit, Knight agitated as he heard faint snores from the corner.

Well, I might as well hypothesise what the hell has happened. And thus, Knight continued his earlier thoughts about his very own possible isekai for another hour. Twisting and turning in his makeshift rocky bed.

* * *

Never had a few moments deliberation seemed like an eternity as Knight felt his consciousness ebbing away. His thoughts, as clear and concise as they were mere moments ago - although getting nowhere with his hypothesises - were coming to an end. His eyes grew heavy from the strenuous effects of excessive agitation of the brain.

At once, Knight was struck with incoherence, an inconsistency to his thoughts, as his twisting and turning slowed to a halt, he was finally too tired to be bothered about his painful bed. His heavy eyes were now weighing down heavily, his mind blank and his vision fading away.