Massacre

What do people think when they read fanfiction with the main character reborn with a bigger dick and more powerful powers?

Do they also dream of being reborn, starting a harem, going through whole adventures, conquering the multiverse, and becoming gods?

He also dreamed.

Lying on the ground after a whole day rowing with a shovel of coal, he did not feel that he was alive. After eating a piece of bread and drinking half a bucket of water that the overseer gave them, he tried to relax as much as possible after a working day as a slave. His hands hurt and it was as if they were lifted, they would break. His bare back was in contact with the cold floor and it was quite pleasant, but Oliver knew that if he continued to lie like that, he would get sick and they simply will get rid of him like a horse who broke his leg at the races.

When he first got isekaied after he was killed in the gateway in the old world, Oliver woke up in a small village that was like in a fairy tale, near the winter forest and incredibly friendly. Every day, training his new body, he tried to find out where he was, but only the leader of the village could teach him, and he refused because the previous owner of the body was an asshole and constantly spoiled everyone's life by destroying the propertie or scaring people at night with a pranks.

The village was simply called Kitan village from… Freljord.

When he first heard he was simply delighted as there were so many incredible characters and stories that were here, but alas, every sunny day comes to an end.

Someone attacked the village.

Lacking support or strong warriors, found like a naked girl in the middle of a bazaar, the village was sacked overnight.

Houses burned while Oliver was crushed by a mountain of barrels. Everywhere were heard the fading screams of people who were being killed left and right, and the groans and weeping of young girls whom the savages had caught. As a 9-year-old child, Oliver could only grit his teeth and try to escape from hundreds of rabid robbers, but he was also caught.

When he woke up again, he was already in chains in a cage and people in raincoats hiding their faces were buying a batch of slaves. Day after day, watching as less and less people surround him and die, he tried to survive with all his might.

With difficulty dragging the body to a makeshift bunk, Oliver fell asleep hoping that tomorrow would be better.

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"Get up you ungrateful pieces of shit!!!" - whipping with a whip one or the other, a fat man in dull armor without a helmet walked waking up the slaves to the next day of work.

Oliver woke up instantly as his back was still sore from the scars from when he couldn't wake up the first day. Jumping up and running out, Oliver behaved like an obedient slave, but his eyes were running all around, remembering and repeating to himself every detail that he saw.

Damn him and his balls, if he chose to spend his life in this place.

Today he wanted to draw attention to the armor of people. During the month of his stay here, he studied the whole place and already realized that it was something like an estate next to a blacksmith factory. There was already a perfectly folded map in his head, now it was the turn to analyze the armor of the warriors if he ever needs... to kill someone.

Oliver, stretching his muscles on the run for breakfast, noted how the armor was attached and its vulnerable points.

When he first arrived, he immediately saw the difference, and now a month later he could divide the soldiers into three types. The first ones are skinny like former slaves, their eyes are dead and they will not care if a few slaves will die. Their strength was that of a normal adult, as Oliver often saw them carrying heavy things without straining.

The second was like war veterans. Their sharp eyes, the atmosphere around them and the respect they received from other soldiers showed their combat experience. They were stacked like they were on steroids, but luckily there were less than ten of them on the estate.

And finally the last type.

The ones Oliver was afraid to piss off.

These bastards weren't very smart, not as strong as the veterans, but they had enchanted armor and rune weapons. It was hard not to notice when the overseer, after trying to kill him, caught a slave and pulled out his other whip with runes, calling the rest of the slaves. The whip, like a fiery whip, tore into pieces an already dead slave from the first hit, burning his remains, that smell of fried meat still haunted everyone and Oliver swore to himself to survive in order not to be killed with it.

The day passed terribly, and again, after dinner, everyone was sent to bed. After a hundred thousand waves with a shovel, he felt like the day of his escape is close.

Thirty-eighth day.

Opening his eyes sharply, Oliver realized something strange. The sun had already risen, but the overseer still had not come to whip all the slaves and drive them to work. It would definitely not be worth expecting a day off from such bastards, and having warmed up, Oliver was the first to go to the door outside. While those who woke up still remained in their beds from fear, Oliver was already at the door, but before reaching the handle he stopped.

Intuition told him something was wrong here. With a quiet step, barefoot without hesitation, Oliver stepped away carefully. Seeing Oliver's reaction, the rest of the slaves immediately fell silent and stared at the door, waiting for something.

Meanwhile, Oliver moved quickly towards the toilet in the back. Few people knew, but Oliver had already pulled the nails out of the boards in the wall and could remove two boards. After removing two boards, Oliver squeezed inside, ignoring the pain from rubbing the skin, splintering himself and closed behind boards. Now he was between the walls of two structures, a warehouse and a barracks for slaves. Quietly moving along the wall, he peered out. No one was on the little road, and through the sparse bushes, no ambush could be seen.

Even seeing the open path Oliver felt out of place.

Where did everyone go?

Returning back and squeezing in the other direction, Oliver checked the second warehouse around the corner. No one was visible, only it was heard how inaccurately the slaves stomped, who grew bolder and went outside. Using his trained body, Oliver jumped out the corner and hid behind a tree peering into the windows of houses. No light, no loud voices, and laughter. Absolute silence.

Hearing only his heart beat more and more succumbing to fear, Oliver began to breathe evenly to calm down. There was a chance to run away immediately, but in rags and bandages instead of shoes, he could hardly have run away far through the forest, where sounds were often heard like dragons roaring.

Not far from the warehouse, Oliver suddenly noticed a new detail. The keys were on a stump near the giant door, which shouldn't be there. The warehouse could only be unlocked by one of the veterans or one of the guards, but they cherished the keys as if they were their own lives.

The warehouse had weapons and supplies edible, the fact that the keys were just lying there means that this is either a trap or an entertainment program for these bastards. Staying in the shade of the trees and running around looking for traps behind a warehouse surrounded by tall trees, Oliver quickly climbed up the tree to the small window. The window was dusty and dirty and he couldn't see anything. Slowly tugging at it, making a little noise, Oliver finally plucked the hinges from the rotten wood and opened it.

After a few minutes, he squeezed through and hung on the window frame, he looked at the beam under the ceiling. Pushing off the wall, as if taking off, he grabbed the beam and climbed onto it. Looking around him, he realized that there was only dust and dirt and a dead rat that probably died a year ago. However, as soon as he looked down, Oliver flinched and tipped back in shock, losing his balance. Having calmed down in a fraction of a second, having instantly restored balance, grabbing the beam under him with both hands, Oliver, suppressing vomiting, looked down.

Dozens of dead bodies from which flowed still liquid blood. Among them, he instantly recognized all the veterans, ordinary soldiers, and guards. There were also unknown people who were dressed as business lawyers or merchants, but nevertheless, the number of those killed and the blood that flowed into the pit nearby clouded Oliver's head with every second.

Who could kill everyone so easily without raising the noise of the sensitive sleep of slaves and dragging all the bodies without uttering a single drop of blood?

Then Oliver realized that he is in danger.

It's time to run away as fast as possible.