Luke wakes up to a headache. He feels as if his brain is trying to jump out of his head. Sitting up, he rubs his temples and looks around at the unfamiliar environment.
He's in what looks like a shabby wooden shack with no furniture but the heap of straw he was sleeping on. The shack is barely the size of a single toilet restroom at a gas station.
Suddenly, a pitch-black panel appears in front of him.
[Congratulations, you died]
[Attempt #2/error]
[Memory sync in progress]
Luke is suddenly met with an unimaginable amount of pain, as if someone just drilled into his skull and poured half a liter of acid, causing his body to twitch in protest. Closing his eyes, Luke starts to recite prime numbers to forget the pain. "2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19…"
---
"2, 3, 5, 7, 11… do you know what comes next?"
"Thirteen," came a sobbing reply.
In a brightly lit chamber, an old man dressed in a doctor's coat skillfully twirls a serpentine knife in his hand while instructing a seven-year-old boy. The boy is cuffed to the ceiling, both feet dangling in the air. Scars and bleeding wounds of different sizes decorate the boy's chest, arms, and legs like macabre tattoos.
"That's right, Number 13."
"Those are prime Numbers, just like how numbers 2, 3, 5, 7, 11 that came before you were supposed to be my prime assassins. But it seems my teachings weren't thorough enough. But that's fine, your combat and literacy test scores are remarkably high. You won't fail me as they did, will you?
"…"
"I'M ASKING YOU A GOD DAMN QUESTION!!! WILL YOU FAIL ME AS WELL, NUMBER THIRTEEN??!!!
"No, sir… I won't," came the boy's sobbing reply.
"Good!"
"Today is the time for your pain tolerance exam. Remember what I told you, it's alright to feel pain, but don't let it rob you of thought. The best way I find to train that skill is to force yourself to do mathematical calculations when under mental stress. Now, let's start again from the beginning, shall we?"
"Recite as many prime numbers as you can. There cannot be an interval of more then three seconds of pause. Every time you pause for more than three seconds, I will slice open your flesh with this salt and alcohol-coated knife."
"For every second you spend in silence, you get an additional slice. After ten seconds have elapsed in silence, this session will end, and you will spend the night in solitary confinement."
A flicker of fear flashed in the boy's eyes at the sound of solitary confinement.
If you don't want that to happen, make sure you last 5 minutes.
Begin!
2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19…
---
…19, 23, 29, 31, 37, 41, 43, 47, 53, 59, 61, 67, 71…
[Memory sync complete]
Suddenly, as quickly as the pain came, it vanished.
[Welcome to the endless growth system]
[Introduction: The system has two features, the first feature, one GP (Growth points) will be generated according to your previous worlds Weight Force Equation where F=m×g, (host currently weighs 55kg, this worlds gravity is 17.6 m/s², each time the host conducts an action that results in 968N of force one GP will be generated.) -Note leverage is allowed.]
[The system's second feature is Revival. After death, the host will revive with all past lifetimes' accumulated GP to be distributed in a designated revival location.]
[Attempt# 2/error - Note each revival will reduce the host's humanity.]
Standing up from the heap of straw, Luke begins to process all of the information he received.
First is Nexus, a planet where the supernatural exist: Wizards and Warlocks. This world is a flat plane, possessing a landmass roughly 3.4 times the size of Earth.
According to the information provided by both the system and the previous owner of this body, there exist countless planes, each with its unique geography. Unfortunately, no accurate information about the strength of supernatural beings is provided.
This body's given name is George, a 47-year-old man who was sold as a slave to a mercantile guild when he was 6 years old. He spent 41 years as a mana crystal miner, working 16 stellar cycles a day. One stellar cycle equates to one Earth hour. This plane has no natural sun or moon. Rumor has it that the shining orb in the sky is a terrifying spell cast by the ruler of this plane.
If the rumor holds, then for a being to be capable of…
DONG, DONG, DONG
At the sound of the bell, Luke heads towards the dirty grey curtain that acts as a door and reaches out with his old and weathered hand to pull it aside.
Stepping outside, Luke observes the area while approaching the center square, where slaves are already beginning to gather in a standard formation.
Rows of tiny cottages are lined up tightly packed with barely an inch of separation.
As Luke quickens his pace to match the other slaves, the rough, rocky texture of stone brutally caresses his bare, calloused feet.
Arriving at the center square, Luke stands in an inconspicuous position within the formation, waiting, while his thoughts once again begin to wander.
DONG, DONG, DONG
Half a stellar cycle from the first ring of the bell, another one is followed, though the source remains a mystery, for the sound seems to come from every direction.
"So it seems nobody is late," came the cold, dry, and monotone voice of a 30-year-old man.
"How unfortunate."
The man has ashy, weathered skin, droopy eyes, messy hair, and an unkempt beard, making him look a decade older.
He's clad in a dark orange robe with a black swirling insignia on the cuffs.
"Today's mining quota will be the same as yesterday, forty-two tons of crystal, or today's provisions will be halved."
The formation of three hundred sixty-four slaves remains silent, waiting for further instructions.
"Follow me"
The droopy-eyed man leads the group half a kilometer south towards the towering mountains.
As the group marches silently, Luke continues to digest his memories while gathering information from the environment.
Soon, the group arrives in front of a cave where faint shimmers quietly sparkle from the inside. A wide array of pickaxes, shovels, waggons, and barrels sits haphazardly at the side of the cave.
The man snaps his fingers, and a bowl of warm mushroom stew appears floating in front of each slave. "You have 6 stellar minutes to drink it all."
Immediately, the group grabs the bowl and proceeds to ravenously drink the stew.
Luke follows the group and begins to drink with ravenous enthusiasm as well. As the stew slides past his tongue, he tries to analyze the components in the food. Unfortunately, he's not able to analyze any of the ingredients.
As expected
With 2 stellar minutes left to spare, the group finishes the stew.
Then, with another snap of the man's fingers, the bowls vanish from the slave's hand.
"Now, get to work."