Trafficked: Reborn Heir's Revenge-Chapter 49: The Outer Wall of Chains (Immovable Sentry)

Chapter 49: The Outer Wall of Chains

Branches tore at Oliver’s skin as he and Garron burst through the final thicket of forest flora. Thorns scraped flesh. Leaves blurred his vision. Then—light.

An opening.

They stumbled into it like corpses flung by fate, collapsing onto the coarse, sunbaked earth. Both fell on all fours, gasping, choking. Every breath felt like shards of glass slicing their lungs. Sweat dripped from their brows in rivers. Oliver’s fingers clawed the dirt—not just to escape something chasing him, but as if to ground himself in the fact that they were… alive.

Somehow, they had managed to outrun the corrupted Slaves and made it just before the timer was over.

Ding.

A flash of crimson shimmered in the edge of Oliver’s vision. The Nightmare Sigil flickered, its blood-red glyphs swirling in the fog of his mind:

> Aether Surge Detected. Proximity to Arcane-Runed Megastructure(Relic). Initiating Passive Adaptation of bloodline.

...Stabilizing.

While his Nightmare Sigil had helped him stabilise his bloodline due to their sudden new environment, Garron had not been so lucky.

He coughed vigorously to the side, feeling as if his lungs were going to fall from his mouth.

At their bloodline rank, such sudden changes needed time to adapt to.

But the momentary calm was shattered.

A brilliant burn of blue light branded itself across his chest—no, inside his veins. The Slave Sigil. It roared back to life.

[> Time Recorded: 2 Hours.

Status: First Slave Lesson Complete.

Verdict: Alive. Barely.]

Congratulations, it sneered in hollow, synthetic tones. [You have survived the trial. This is not triumph—this is permission to continue crawling.

Lesson One: You are animals beneath the crown, and the Somara Empire. Never forget this.]

Such was the slave sigil. It was more of a reminder of their bondage than it was a survival mechanism.

But Oliver knew that the worse parts of the Slave Sigil were still yet to come. After all, they were yet to explore the dungeons.

He clenched his teeth, letting the Slave sigil's words bury themselves deep. His heart thumped violently—shame, fury, exhaustion. All wrapped in silence.

Slowly, he lifted his head.

And there it was.

The Outer Wall of the Somara Empire.

It rose like a mountain carved by the gods, smooth and impossibly vast. The stone wasn’t natural—it pulsed faintly with pale violet light, tracing arcane runes etched into its surface. Those runes breathed. A rhythm that many poets say matched the pulse of the Empire itself.

Basically, it was not just a wall—this was a living boundary, humming with the ancient power of dominance.

Of course Oliver knew it for what it was. It might be vast an encompassing the entire continent, but it was still a Shard. One of the greatest that had ever been discovered in a dungeon, and the shard that marked the beginning of this empire hundreds of years ago.

According to the rank for shards, it was at least a Relic, having just as much incredible power as the relic—Staff of Solomon—that brought Oliver back in time.

There was a name for it—The Immovable Sentry— This one before Oliver was one of the three part wall. Big and powerful as it was, it could not be managed by one will alone, and thus, it was managed by the Outer wall nobles, divided by the several gates that each Count family was tasked to protect, and maintain.

Noble Ranking in the Somara Empire were as follows. From lowest to highest; Baron, Viscount, Count, Marquis, Duke, and Grand Duke.

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Of course there were some rankings that did not hold territory by station, but held status by contribution. Such as Knights, and others.

Count to Baron were considered as being Outer Nobles. While Marquis and above were Inner Wall nobles. But that was issue for another day.

There were Twelve Outer Noble families that had the Count status which was passed from generation to generation within the houses of such favored families.

Each family was naturally entitled to a gate.

Above the walls, flags rippled in the breeze. Giant crimson banners hung from the ramparts—each bearing a golden crown embroidered with seven radiant gemstones, each a different hue, glinting with unnatural brilliance. The jewels seemed to shimmer not by light, but by will. Watching. Judging.

The air was different here. Heavier. Fuller. The Aether was thick—no longer a distant whisper but a roaring river. It pressed against Oliver’s skin, seeping into his pores, making every sense more alert… and yet more subdued. Like being given power and a leash at the same time.

Barka coughed beside him, trying to stand, but falling again to his knees. Oliver barely noticed.

His eyes were locked on the gate.

It loomed at the far end of the path—a colossus of black and silver metal, etched with sharp designs like barbs and thorns. A gate large enough for ten carriages to ride through shoulder-to-shoulder. Merchants, nobles, traders, slaves, and warhorses passed through its yawning maw like ants before the jaws of a beast.

Before them, soldiers stood in perfect formation.

Each clad in dark red plate armor trimmed with gold. Their helms were sleek and faceless—black as night—with only narrow slits for glowing eyes. Their spears rested upright, but tension lingered in their stances. One shift of tone, one mistake, and those spears would find throats.

Oliver's breath caught in his throat.

Then—

"Incredible. To think you lot actually made it in two hours."

The voice was smooth, amused, laced with arrogant satisfaction.

Oliver turned.

There, standing at the side of the clearing, flanked by two less-armored retainers, was Roderick Vaelcrest.

He wasn’t sweating. His white uniform was pristine, his boots polished. No doubt he had cleaned up after the battle with the Reptilians.

His black hair was swept back, sharp against his noble features. But it was his smile that stood out—wide, cruel, not of joy, but victory.

Not because Oliver survived. But because he believed he had won—a competition Thalia did not care existed, even if it did.

"I’ll admit," Roderick continued, stepping forward, hands clasped behind his back, "I expected at least one of you to end up skewered by the forest beasts. Or perhaps torn apart by the corrupted Slaves. But here you are."

Roderick had seen when the two of them rushed into the forest when it all began.

Oliver glared at him, saying nothing. He couldn't—not yet. His limbs shook too much.

Roderick’s eyes gleamed as he unfolded a sealed scroll and waved it casually. "Seems my sister’s little project hasn’t even cleared the second ridge yet. She’ll be... devastated."

He chuckled to himself, then looked directly at Oliver.

"Rest while you can. The next lesson begins when the others get here."

Then he turned and walked away, whistling.

Roderick’s footsteps faded into the hum of the busy land and murmuring wind.

Oliver didn’t wait for another word, didn’t even look at Barka.

A cage had been set aside at the edge of the wall—a crude iron crate just large enough to house all the slaves, if all of them made it. No roof. No cushion. No dignity. Just rusted bars and hard stone. But right now, it was a throne.

Oliver stumbled toward it, ignoring the sting in his joints and the ache behind his eyes. He collapsed inside and curled up without a word. The moment his back hit cold metal, he let go of the waking world, and fell into sleep.

A deep, desperate sleep.

Ding.

> Nightmare Sigil Activated. Entering Night Trial...

The world warped. Colors folded. Red twisted.

His body went numb—and was in the night trial.

The trial to reach the outer wall had been for 6 hours. He and Garron had made it in two. This meant he had four hours of sleep that he could quickly catch up on for the day.

Four hours. Four precious hours of sleep. Of growth. Of trial.

He grinned weakly to himself.

At his cureent stage, it was practically a gift.

One he would gladly exploit.

But then— ƒreewebɳovel.com

As the trial realm stabilized into place, his smile faded.

"What the hell?"

The first thing Oliver observed was that there was only one tree left.

There was only one Blue Carcass Plant. And it was the one he was sitting on.

All the while, Oliver had been smart, using the fruits from the trees to kill the scorpions and gain points.

There was no over thinking it. Considering the fact that scorpions had been a hundred of them, and he had no fighting ability whatsoever, using the fruits had been a very advantageous plan.

But Oliver had never counted for one thing, and that as the fact that these creatures were similarly capable of a certain level of intelligence.

Aside the tree he was on, he had used up the fruits on the other trees.

Without their fruits, the Scorpions were no longer scared of the trees, and used the opportunity to fell them.

Right now, that advantage he had become very proud of was no more. And on this tree were remaining five fruits. But he still had over thirty (30) scorpions left for him to finish this trial.

To make matters worse, the scorpions seemed to have spread out, as if knowing that when they were together, it made easier to kill them.

><"Heehee... shocking right?" The Bloodline Will hovered above him. It had that look on its face, like it wanted to see what Oliver was going to do next.

"But... how is this possible. I was awake."

><"and so what? What does you being awake have to do with the activities of the dream realm. Has days on sea flooded your brain with barnacle, and crayfish?"

Oliver was speechless for words. But he understood what the bloodline skull was saying.

Essentially, just because he was awake did not mean that life in the dream realm would not continue. The realization dawned on Oliver. This world, like the wakkng world... was real.