Unholy Player Chapter 502 How to Train Your Slave

While Adyr pondered how to best utilize these territories, which had expanded enough to accommodate an entire city, there was one individual who did not share his enthusiasm.

"Why does this cursed place keep shifting and expanding?" Cannibal hissed, trapped within the Gritstalks. Now standing nearly 2 meters tall, the thick stalks rose around him like a wooden fortress; his eyes remained glued to the sky until a sense of dread took root in his soul.

He clutched a filthy, stained pillow in his arms, holding it tight as if it were the final anchor for his sanity.

Cannibal was forced to adapt every single time the landscape transformed. He had to grow accustomed to the new inhabitants, the changing atmosphere, and the fresh labor that was constantly piled upon him. It felt as though the world itself was rewriting his daily life without any notice.

Even though his cage was growing and providing more physical space, the expansion only served to deepen his despair. The prospect of escape seemed to drift further away as the island's boundaries continued to stretch. The horizon retreated constantly, always staying out of reach, as if it were mocking his plight.

A new fragrance had also begun to permeate the air. It was sugary and strangely alluring, thick enough to fill his lungs. Yet, rather than providing comfort, it only intensified his feeling of hopelessness.

With every breath, the scent appeared to domesticate him further, dragging him into a state of lethargy. His limbs felt heavier than they should, and the final embers of his will to flee slowly died out within him.

"I'm becoming more of a slave every day," Cannibal whispered to himself, terrified by the certainty of it. He had lost all track of time; without a consistent day-and-night cycle, he had no way of knowing how many days had passed since his arrival.

He stared up at the crimson sky, watching his future slip through his fingers.

Suddenly, a calm and familiar voice reached him from behind.

"Are you pleased to see your home grow bigger now?"

A chill raced down Cannibal’s spine. He whipped his head around to see a transparent energy body floating above the Gritstalks. Weightless and silent, it stared at him with a face devoid of features.

Adyr had not spoken to him much lately. He appeared only occasionally to issue new commands and observe the progress of the work, never allowing their interactions to become a true conversation.

Nevertheless, Cannibal felt a strange sense of relief at his presence. In this desolate and perilous world, this was the only familiar entity—the only "person" who ever came back.

In the beginning, the sight of Adyr’s energy body filled him with nothing but fury and a desire to kill. But as time wore on with no one else to talk to, he had slowly become attached to this spectral figure. He found himself waiting daily for a chance to speak, to share a few words, and to dull the ache of his solitude.

"Ah yes, thank you for all the opportunities you've provided me." He pressed his forehead into the dirt in a deep kowtow, performing the gesture like a sacred ritual.

The words were a total fabrication, the complete opposite of Cannibal's true emotions. Yet, they flowed from his lips with such sincerity and realism that they sounded like genuine gratitude.

Observing this display of respect, Adyr nodded with satisfaction.

He could sense Cannibal’s mind fracturing day by day. The psychological weight of his environment was steadily molding his character. Isolation, repetitive labor, and rewards were successfully breaking him down.

Adyr was certain that with a bit more time, the mutant would develop a profound Stockholm syndrome. He was rapidly becoming a loyal slave who could be fully relied upon.

"So how is the situation? Is everything going well?" Adyr inquired. He struck a careful balance in his tone, being neither too overbearing nor too friendly, maintaining the strict boundary of a slave-owner relationship.

Cannibal grasped the meaning behind the question instantly. Keeping his head lowered to avoid that faceless stare, he began his report.

"Everything's going fine. The Gritstalks are ready for harvest, I'll start soon. The birds have been busy too, leaving buckets of droppings. Their numbers look higher than the last time I counted. There's enough to fertilize the flower fields already, and I've been keeping the extras, like you ordered. It's up to 10.5 buckets."

Cannibal spoke like a tenant farmer reporting to a landlord, offering up the surplus as if it were a required tax.

Listening intently, Adyr glanced toward a cluster of buckets filled with a grey, creamy liquid.

While it wasn't a massive amount, it was a respectable resource. These buckets could be traded on the market for roughly 100 to 200 crystals. It was a modest sum, but a solid start nonetheless.

The Gritstalk harvest was expected to bring in another 200 to 300 crystals. This still wasn't enough to satisfy Adyr’s rising requirements, but for an early stage, it was acceptable.

The most significant profit came from the birds perched like ornaments upon the branches of the Mother Tree. Their tiny bodies flitted between the limbs, filling the air with a constant chorus. Adyr noted that their population had increased by roughly 20%, an impressive rate of reproduction.

When calculating his current monthly revenue from the fields and investments, he estimated a total of 800 to 1000 crystals if everything was sold. Though far from what he eventually needed, it was a strong beginning for a novice. For a first-time manager, this could be seen as rapid progress.

Following a brief silence, Adyr murmured, "Looks like it's time to get more manpower to increase production rates." The need was obvious, especially seeing the bird droppings that had dried on the ground after being left uncollected for too long.

Cannibal had reached his limit. If he were forced to do more while balancing every other chore, he would eventually collapse from exhaustion. To expand the fields, Adyr required more hands.

To Cannibal’s ears, those words were the most beautiful things he had ever heard. He raised his head, his eyes gleaming with a flicker of hope behind his distorted features.

To Adyr, this meant more slaves for the Sanctuary. To Cannibal, it meant the arrival of friends.

It meant there would be people to talk to, replacing the silent, tattered pillow he hugged to his chest every night as a substitute for a human heartbeat.

Noticing the expectant expression, Adyr gave a soft chuckle. A small bag suddenly materialized in his hand, appearing solid despite his ethereal form.

He tossed it to Cannibal. "This is your reward for your hard work. Keep doing well, and you'll get more later."

With that, his energy body dissipated. He vanished without a sound, leaving the lone mutant human among the vast fields.

Energized by the rare conversation and the promise of future companions and rewards, Cannibal began crawling through the Gritstalks toward the bag. He pushed through the stalks, feeling them brush against his face and shoulders, his spirit more revitalized than it had been in a long time.