The five days passed quicker than Victor expected.
Training had gone on as usual, but with one distinct difference: the trainers had focused almost entirely on evasive movements, burst footwork, and guerilla-style skirmishing. No explanation was given, but it was obvious. They were preparing the boys for the arena—for real fights, against real monsters.
Despite the unchanged structure, there was a weight in the air that hadn't been there before. Fear. Uncertainty. And something darker.
Victor could feel it in every meal, every whispered conversation, every side glance. No one said it aloud, but the message was clear.
Some of them wouldn't be coming back.
---
Finally, the day had come.
The stone halls echoed with heavy footsteps as they were led through torch-lit corridors to the coliseum. Victor's breath was steady, but his eyes flicked from one face to the next. Some boys were pale. Others looked like they hadn't slept. No one spoke a word.
The arena was a massive, circular pit carved into the stone. Red sand covered the ground, and dried patches of blood stained the earth like a warning. Above them, seats carved into tiers climbed high—and those seats were full.
Nobles. Aristocrats. Dressed in the finest of silk, expensive jewelry and gold, so much so, that it was almost revolting to look at.
They watched the arena with excited expressions, like they were attending a theater— Anticipation written all over them.
Victor's lip curled in amusement. He didn't really khow he should feel. No, that was wrong. He did, but it was so far from what he should be feeling that he felt like he shouldn't acknowledge it.
As he looked at the stands and the arena below, he felt a mix of emotions— amusement, excitement and disgust.
Amusement at how the spectators and people of this world got excited at the idea of bloodshed and possible murder. But maybe that was just human nature revealing itself in a world that allowed it.
Excitement at the thought of testing himself in his first life-and-death battle.He could hear the sound of his heartbeat, like a drum pounding in his ears, in anticipation for what was to come.
And disgust at having such thoughts, because his moral training from earth, dictated that having such feelings in his current situation was not normal. And still he knew he could not hide them from himself. Lying to himself was something he was never good at.
"Ladies and gentlemen welcome to the yearly underground arena games," a voice boomed.
It was Jeffrey, standing at the edge of the ring. Behind him, a wide gate opened with a loud groan.
A man stepped forward into the sand.
One of the older, seasoned slaves. Broad shoulders, corded muscles, scars crisscrossing his arms. He held no weapon, but his eyes were cold and focused.
"This," Jeffrey announced, "is Axe-fist. A veteran of thirty-two matches. And today, he
will have the honor of giving us our first battle."
The nobles roared with madness and bloodlust in their eyes.
The opposite gate opened—and a creature emerged.
It was low to the ground, four-legged, with a jagged armored back and serrated tusks curling from its lower jaw. Its eyes glowed deep red, and a guttural growl rumbled from its throat. Its claws scraped the ground, leaving deep gouges in the sand.
> Scanning...
> Target identified: Ravage Boar (Juvenile Alpha)
> Tier: 0
> Level: 10
> HP: 180
> MP: 30
> Strength: 24
> Endurance: 20
> Agility: 17
> Vitality: 18
> Intelligence: 2
> Charisma: 1
> Mana: 5
> Overall Combat Power: 15
Victor grimaced.
The thing reeked of bloodlust.
The fight began with a single command.
"Begin!"
The chains that bound the Ravage Boar dropped to the ground and as if given a signal it charged with explosive force, its tusks aimed directly at Axe-fist's chest. But the man was faster than he looked. He twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding a fatal skewering. The
speed of it sprayed sand and raised clouds of dust.
The man moved with purpose—quick strikes, calculated dodges. He knew the thing was stronger, but not smarter.
He weaved around its charges, striking at its joints, its underbelly. Blood started to pool, staining the sand dark.
The boar was relentless, but so was Axe-fist.
Then, with a sharp pivot, he ducked under a wild swing of tusks and slammed his fist into the side of its head—followed by a second, then a third.
Crack.
The boar stumbled.
And Axe-fist didn't stop.
With a furious roar, he launched himself onto its back, grabbed one of its tusks, and pulled.
The sound of tearing flesh echoed across the arena. Using the tusk in his hand, he rammed it into the skull of the monster beneath him.
A moment later, the Ravage Boar collapsed, blood pouring from its skull. The crowd cheered—clapping and screaming with such vigor, the arena seemed to shake from its very foundations. The excitement in the air was electric and the tension palpable.
Victor exhaled slowly.
The next match began almost immediately.
This time, the fighter was one of the boys from Victor's own batch.
It was the same dark-haired boy that got bullied by an older slave, during his first general training.
The gate opened again. A smaller Ravage Boar, slightly weaker than the previous one— a Level 7, charged out.
What played out couldn't even be called a battle.
It was an execution.
The boy tried to dodge, tried to run, but the beast was too fast.
It caught him with a tusk, lifted him off the ground, and threw him like a rag doll. He hit the sand hard, coughing blood.
He tried to crawl away.
But the monster didn't let him. It slammed a hoof down on his back, pinning him.
Victor didn't look away, even as the monster sank its teeth into the boy's neck.
The spectators kept cheering at the display.
The corpse was dragged off eventually.
Next was Caelum.
He walked into the arena with a blank, almost unserious expression.
His opponent growled, pacing back and forth like a predator.
"Begin."
Caelum moved.
It wasn't fast. Not frantic either.
Just... efficient.
Then Victor noticed something strange, as he paid attention to the fight. Whenever Caelum evaded, he seemed to not move his feet at all. It was like the earth was moving him out of the way.
'That's exactly what's happening, I didn't know he could do that.' Victor thought.
It seemed like Caelum had more secrets he needed to pry.
After sidestepping the initial charge, he turned, and drove his fist into the creature's side. A loud crack echoed. Then another.
The Boar tried to recover—only to be met with a knee to the snout. Blood sprayed onto the red sand, giving it a deeper hue.
But Caelum didn't stop. He weaved between attacks like smoke, striking with clean, brutal precision.
One final blow crushed the beast's throat.
It fell. Twitched. Then stopped moving.
Silence.
Then the applause. Louder than any before it.
Beneath the cheers, a slow ripple of murmurs rose from the crowd.
"The way he moved... that level of control. No regular human could do that," a man whispered from the stands.
"Is he an Awakened?" a woman beside him replied, her voice soft and curious.
"Tch. The Baron really got himself a prize," the man muttered, annoyed. "I bet on the beast. Thought he was just some pretty-boy greenhorn."
Similar conversations echoed across the viewing stands. Nobles leaned forward in their seats. For the first time all day, their casual amusement shifted to genuine interest.
Victor watched all of it. Every second.
His hands clenched and unclenched.
This world was brutal.
And if he wanted to survive... he'd have to be the same.