I'm Trapped in the Block

Chapter 366: Chapter 363: We

’Who am I? Or perhaps, who are we?’

It often pondered this question.

It lay curled up on the boundless Feather Sea, lost in thought for what felt like an entire day. It would remain this way until a gust of wind swept the feathers into the sky, shattering its train of thought and plunging it back into confusion.

’I am the main control program of Paradise Island, responsible for its entire operation.’

This was the answer engraved in its mind, but it always felt that answer was wrong. It sensed this was merely a memory that had been forced upon it. Yet, when it tried to recall its true origins, it drew a complete blank.

But now, it seemed to remember:

It, too, was a part of this Feather Sea...

They were called the Feathered, a species of creatures formed from pure white feathers.

At birth, they were but a single feather. This feather would drift aimlessly on the wind until it acquired other feathers.

They would gather molted feathers from other creatures—mostly birds from the Abyss. After acquiring these feathers, the Feathered would attach them to their bodies.

Thus, the number of feathers on a Feathered one’s body would grow.

Upon becoming a clump of feathers, they reached their ”adult stage.”

The accumulation of feathers allowed them to gradually develop wisdom and self-awareness.

They would gradually realize they were not just a single feather, but a unique life-form.

And so, they would begin to actively seek out more feathers until their bodies took on a humanoid form. At the same time, they would start to arrange and replace their feathers, striving to become ever more immaculately white.

Once their bodies had taken the pure white, humanoid form of a small child, they would stop searching for feathers and gather together on an island.

Here, they would create the seeds of life—a type of white stone.

The Feathered would carry these stones to every corner of the world, placing them in windswept locations.

After a time, the wind would wear the stone down into a single feather, which would then drift farther and farther away, beginning a new cycle of life.

This was the life of a Feathered one.

That stone was the White Light Stone, representing the birth and death of life.

A creature’s molted feathers were a symbol of its former existence. Even after being shed, they remained pure white, existing forever. The Feathered believed this was the part of a creature that held the most life force.

They collected so many of these white feathers precisely to use their abundant life force to create the White Light Stones.

Creating White Light Stones was their life’s purpose and the only way to ensure the continuation of their species.

However, even such a simple and pure race was swept up in that ”epic war.”

One day, a great host of other creatures arrived on the island where the Feathered gathered. They ignored the Feathered entirely, pointing here and there across the island. They picked up the White Light Stones, clicking their tongues in wonder.

Soon after, more and more creatures arrived. They began to roam the island as they pleased, probing the White Light Stones, and inspecting the island’s structure. Only at the very end did their gazes fall upon the Feathered.

”So these are the creatures that make the White Light Stones?”

”Yes, sir.”

”Have them keep making them. The current supply isn’t enough.”

”Understood.”

...

And just like that, the fate of the Feathered was sealed.

They were trapped on the island, forced to produce White Light Stones day and night. If any tried to leave, they would be stopped by numerous Guards.

At the same time, they were also responsible for laying the finished White Light Stones across the island. This was because their feathers had energy-retaining properties; only stones laid by their own hands would not suffer from severe energy leakage.

The other creatures couldn’t tell them apart, so they numbered the Feathered one by one.

”1, 2, 3... 500...”

The races on the island were already clearly stratified. Powerful races took leadership roles, weaker ones served as guards and laborers, and a few rare, marginal races handled communications and other odd jobs.

Under the threat of the Hell Beasts, all of this seemed perfectly logical, and no race raised any objections.

They became a group of slaves, given no respect, their only task to produce White Light Stones and lay them across the island.

The powerful races would often visit the construction site, pontificating and pointing with critical eyes.

They had all kinds of ideas for Paradise Island.

From them, the Feathered learned of Paradise Island’s future:

”A cage to seal the Hell Beasts, a decisive battlefield, the last Great Wall of the Abyss, the front line of the Alliance...”

The Feathered slowly came to understand that this was a truly terrifying creature. The powerful races described it with great passion and fear, painting a picture so horrific that it seemed if they did not fight it, the entire Abyss would be destroyed.

But none of this had anything to do with the Feathered.

In their eyes, there were only endless White Light Stones.

”Keep laying them forward, until the entire island is covered,” said the officer in charge of them.

But when they had covered the entire island, the construction was still not over.

”Another layer.”

The officer told the Feathered there was also a dome to be built.

The Feathered continued their work. They had no other choice.

”Another layer...”

”Another layer...”

And so it went. The Feathered lost count of how many times they repeated the process, until they simply grew numb.

Finally, after they had lost many of their brethren, the officer told them they could stop.

All the Feathered were herded to the lowest level. The powerful creatures stood to one side, discussing what would happen next without any restraint:

”Now all that’s left is to fuel Paradise Island.”

”Is it this race? Isn’t this too cruel to them?” someone objected.

”What’s cruel about it? Their home is long gone, and most of them are dead already. The Abyss is a dangerous place now; a weak race like this would probably go extinct soon anyway. Better they serve one last, useful purpose.”

”In the fight against the Hell Beasts, sacrifices are inevitable. This is just a small one.”

The dissenter was still not convinced. ”But I think we should let them decide for themselves if such a sacrifice is worth it...”

At these words, the assembled races fell silent for a long time, until someone finally spoke up:

”Paradise Island requires a consumable to start its initial operation. If not them, it would have to be someone else. Since you’re so opposed, perhaps your race would like to volunteer as the consumable?”

”Our race...”

Faced with this, the dissenter was left speechless.

Everyone wants to be the good guy when it’s not their own skin on the line. But the moment their own interests are threatened, no one dares to speak up.

After a stretch of silence, someone finally spoke again:

”No objections? Then it’s decided.”

”Agreed.”

”Agreed.”

...

And so, amidst the scattered discussion, the fate of the Feathered was sealed once again.

The exit to the central core slowly closed. Feathers scattered...