The sounds of quiet sobbing and dejected whimpering could be heard throughout the night as a large, barred carriage rested beside an open fire. Inside the carriage, there an even ratio of boys and girls, from ages ten to twelve, covered in dirt and tattered rags.

 

A burly man with a scar across his right eye strutted towards the cage and knocked on the wooden bars with his mace. The man had intended to scare the kids silent, but the opposite effect came to play as some of the kids started crying out loud.

 

“Quiet! I said quiet!” The burly man roared as he threatened the children who were about to continue crying.

 

The older kids stifled their tears while some of them tried to cover the whimpers from the younger ones. The fourteen children glanced at the man in fear and they waited for him to speak.

 

The man nodded in satisfaction and proceeded to describe to the kids their situation. “Alright, as most of you should know, your parents could not afford to feed everyone in your family. Thus, they have decided to sell you younglings in order to have one less mouth to feed. In other words…don’t even think about them. You are mine now. I own you!”

 

“W-What are you going to do to us?” An eleven year old boy with lush black hair and gray eyes stammered.

 

The boy was one of the more courageous ones in the carriage and he seemed to have known at least something about his situation. That’s why he asked the question in order to weigh in on his options.

 

By the way, that boy was me. That’s right. I was sold into slavery by my parents. But, I couldn’t blame them. My father was an honest farmer who was tricked by a noble and was put into a huge debt. Even selling all of our leftover harvest could not clear the debt.

 

Not to mention, our family needed to feed my older brother who was fourteen years old. He would soon turn fifteen – an adult who can make his own decisions and earn money for the family.

 

As for me, I still had four years left and my family clearly cannot feed me that long with our situation. So, here I am, sitting in a carriage and waiting for my answer.

 

“Haha, a smart lad, eh? That’s good. At least you know your situation. There are two options for the girls – either they’re sold to rich families as maids or they’re sold to the brothels.” The burly man replied, which brought some wails from the shocked girls.

 

The man slammed his mace against the wooden bars again and ordered the girls to shut up. After the cries subsided, the man continued. “As for the boys, most of you will be going to the mines. But a lucky one amongst you will be going to the arena.”

 

“How is going to the arena lucky?” Another boy managed to raise enough courage to ask. “I heard that the death rate of the arena and the death rate of the mines are equally high.”

 

“Oh, another smart one eh. Well, what you forgot to hear about is that those who entered the mines will live and die in the mines. But those who entered the arena, has a chance to regain their freedom.” The man emphasized the word freedom, bringing the boys up and alert.

 

“We could stop being slaves? How?” I asked as I grabbed onto the wooden bars only to receive a hard knock on both my hands.

 

As I yelped in pain, the slave trader explained nonchalantly. “Why, by winning the championships of course. The winner of the arena gets a wish granted, regardless of the wish.”

 

“And so…how do we decide who goes to the arena and who goes to the mines?” I asked the question that was on everyone’s mind.

 

“Well, when we get to Layman’s Town, the healthy boys will be taken to an unofficial tournament where the winner gets selected to enter the arena. As for the unhealthy boys, hehe…you will be going to the mines. Now get some sleep! We have a long day tomorrow!”

 

The burly slave trader cackled before heading off to bed. While the girls whimpered helplessly, the boys looked at each other suspiciously. As only one boy could enter the arena, everyone was an enemy. I must think of something to guarantee my place.

 

And it seemed the other boys were thinking of the same thing. As I slowly dozed off, a couple of twelve year olds woke me up with punches and kicks. They were trying to destroy the competition! Like hell I would let them!

 

As I was a farmer’s kid, I had already started helping around the farm since I was nine. I had built enough strength in my body to outrank a normal twelve year old. While protecting my vitals, I kicked out and managed to knock one boy off his feet.

 

Taking advantage as the others looked in shock, I pounced on another boy and kicked him in the balls. The squishing sounds followed by a sharp yelp scared the others into backing off.

 

Suddenly, a shout could be heard as the slave trader rushed in with his mace out. He had thought someone was stealing his slaves. Upon realizing what had really happened, the man gave me a knowing look before heading back to sleep.

 

Okay. So I lied. My parents didn’t sell me to slavery because I was the youngest. Well…that might have been partially correct. The main reason was because I was the village bully. I know, I know. It should have been impossible at my age, but I’m known to have beaten up all of the village kids including the fourteen year old ones.

 

With the rest of the boys scared to submission, I closed my eyes and slept. It was early morning when I woke up once more. I looked around and realized that the carriage was moving. Nothing else happened while we traveled.

 

*******

 

After a few hours, we arrived at Layman’s Town. The slave trader quickly selected me along with two other boys to go to the coliseum where the tournament was conducted.

 

There, we saw at least a dozen other boys, all in rags and covered with dirt. While I and the other young boys were waiting with our respective slave traders, an elderly man walked out from another room with two strong looking men, each carrying a barrel.

 

The old man took one sweeping look at kids and cleared his throat. “The tournament will start shortly. In the meantime, I have some food provided for you as well as weapons you will be using in the death match.”

 

“D-Death match? I never h-heard about this. I-I want out! I’ll go to the mines instead!” One boy protested as he struggled under the vice-like hands of his slave trader.

 

However, the slave trader frowned and looked at the old man, who gave him a short nod. As if understanding what needed to be done, the slave trader grabbed the boy by his head and pulled.

 

R-RIP!

 

With a sickening pull despite the boy’s pleas of mercy, the slave trader tore the boy’s head off – not cleanly though as half a spine trailed along with the head. As blood gushed out from the headless corpse, the slave trader held the head up for all to see.

 

Every boy in the room, myself included, puked out last night’s food. Some even shat or pissed on themselves. It’s natural for us to do so as we haven’t seen a dead body before, let alone a gruesome death like the one before us.

 

The old man nodded and glared at the remaining boys. “Anyone else want to join him?”

 

‘No’ was the reply everyone gave. The old man pointed towards the food once more and urged us to eat if we wanted to survive. The food was nothing special, just loaves of rye bread and dried deer meat. However, most of us didn’t have any appetite after what we had experienced.

 

But when hunger took over, we dove right in. Some tried to reason with themselves that if they don’t eat, they won’t have any strength. And if they don’t have the strength, they would surely die.

 

After everyone ate something and we were allowed to rest for a few minutes, it was time for the death match. We each grabbed a weapon. These weapons weren’t all that good and were made with the cheapest and lightest materials.

 

While most of the boys grabbed swords, I wanted to find something that would help me prevent my opponent from getting close to me. And as a result, I decided to use the spear. When everyone found a weapon to use, the matches began.

 

The first match up was between two boys of similar height. They each carried a sword in their hands. Although they were first, they seemed reluctant to fight. When the old man urged them to attack, they started swinging at each other. But there was no strength behind each swing.

 

Dissatisfied, the old man raised a finger and signaled at one of the men by his side. The strong man rushed towards the two contestants and withdrew his saber. With a powerful slash, the man beheaded both boys.

 

“I hope I don’t have to see any more of this weak ass fighting. Are you little girls or are you boys? Show me some vigor or your outcome would be just like these two!” The old man snapped as he motioned for the next two contestants to come up.

 

This time, the two competing figures were a mismatch. On one side, a twelve year old boy with a bear-like body and carried a hammer in his hand stood with confidence. On the other side, an eleven year old boy who looked like he hadn’t eaten for days held onto a dagger in his right hand.

 

At a glance, the slave traders felt that the bear-like boy would surely win the round. However, who would have thought that when the match began, the eleven year old boy displayed quick footwork and managed to dodge behind the bear-like boy.

 

With a stab of his dagger, the eleven year old boy punctured his opponent’s heart and instantly killing him. The sudden realization that he had killed someone coupled with the sense of relief that he had survived caused the poor boy to faint.

 

“Good!” The old man clapped enthusiastically. He looked at his men and told them to carry the boy to the side and wake him up. Meanwhile, he looked around the room and chose the next two contestants.

 

One of the selected was a young boy with a running nose who carried a sword by his side. He looked as if he had never harmed a creature in his life. As for the other selected boy…well, that was me.

 

I walked towards my opponent and held my spear at the ready. Maybe it was because I’m scared or maybe it was because I was calm, I just stood there motionlessly waiting for my opponent to make the first move.

 

The running nose boy wanted to wait for me to make the first attack as well. However, while my back was to the old man, the running nose boy was not. He could clearly see the frown on the old man’s face as well as the man with his saber drawn.

 

Not wanting to lose his life, the boy charged at me first. He swung his sword fiercely but without aim so it looked more like a mad scramble. I aimed my spear down and stuck the tip right where the boy was about to run towards, causing him to trip over.

 

As he fell, he let go of his sword and crashed face first into the edge of the sword. The boy’s face split in half as blood sprayed out in all directions. The boy was still alive as he cried in pain and rolled into a fetal position on the ground.

 

I walked up to the boy and pulled out my spear. With my eyes closed so I won’t see the sight of the boy dying in my hands, I prepared to stab down. However, suddenly, the old man barked out.

 

“Open your eyes boy, or you can die with him!”

 

Shivering, I opened my eyes and stared at the barely breathing, disfigured boy. Despite the blood covering most of his face, I could clearly see his eyes…those eyes that plead for help…those eyes that wanted to live.

 

With an unwilling sigh, I ended his life. A wave of nausea overwhelmed me as I bent over and hurled whatever food I ate before the tournament. Feeling a bit numb, I sat down to the side and stared quietly at my bloody hands.

 

My heart beat uncontrollably and my mind raced with thoughts. But, after a while, only one thought prevailed. I must survive…I must win…I must regain my freedom! Maybe my parents were right. Maybe I’m really a monster.

 

As time went by, I fought a couple of more times, each with near-wins, until finally…I was in the finals. The next match was the final one. I was going to face off against the boy with the dagger.

 

After winning a couple of times and killing a few opponents, the boy with the dagger developed a cruel and insane exterior. It seemed as if he enjoyed all the killing. He was, for sure, going to be the toughest opponent yet.

 

We walked up the stage and stopped a meter or two away from each other. My enemy looked at me and made a slitting motion along his throat before chuckling at his own crude humor. Not giving in to his provocation, I stood quietly and dug my foot into the dirt ground while waiting for the match to start.

 

When the old man gave the signal, the dagger boy charged towards me. He was a fast one and I knew he could dodge my spear thrusts. However, I had something else in store for him. I thrusted a few times at the boy, causing him to slow down his charge to dodge.

 

Then, I kicked out, bringing a clump of dirt with me. The dirt sprayed towards the boy’s face, catching him by surprise. Though he closed his eyes in time, the dagger boy still stopped charging.

 

Taking this opportunity, I spun the butt of my spear around and thwacked him on the side of his head. The dagger boy staggered as his head rang and blood poured out from a cut.

 

I twirled my spear around once more and smacked him on the other side of his head. The blow not only wounded him some more, but it also knocked him off his feet.

 

The boy struggled to get back on his feet while he swung his dagger madly. But his aim was off. Besides seeing double of me, he was also seeing stars. And then, he saw nothing as darkness filled his vision and pain escaped him in bliss.

 

The dagger boy had died with my spear pierced through his heart. After the death match, the old man praised me for being cunning and ruthless, and ushered me out where I was washed clean and given my own room.

 

Having won, I had guaranteed my place in the arena. Now, it was time for training. The youngest to join the arena officially was fifteen. I had four more years, which meant I was allowed to train within that time and better prepared myself for the arena once I entered officially. And so, the years went by.

 

*******

 

Four years later….

 

A young man with a shaved head carried his trident and net while sporting a nasty scar that ran from ear to ear. The young man had a demeanor of a seasoned warrior and his gray eyes shone with vigor. That young man was me, now a fully-grown adult.

 

During the four years of training, I had switched from the spear to that of a trident. As for my offhand, instead of choosing a shield to block my opponents’ attacks, I had chosen the net to immobilize my opponents’ movements.

 

Over the years, I have participated in small duels with young gladiators from other towns to build up my experience and killing intent. And it paid off. I have not lost a battle and I have even made a name for myself.

 

Hehe, a bit embarrassing but the people called me the ‘Heartbreaker’ for my killing techniques. Anyways, enough of that. The tournament that comes every five years was about to start soon. In fact, the first match will start next week.

 

However, there were way too many candidates this year – one hundred to be exact – but we only have sixty-four slots. Thus, for this week, candidates for the tournament were required to participate in a preliminary match intended on weeding out the weaker gladiators. Their opponents were deserters of the Imperial Army.

 

If the candidate won, he would be able to obtain a place in the tournament. However, if the deserter won, he would be set free. Such an appealing reward would cause any deserter to go all out.

 

And so, I head over to the training room – also known as the ‘slaughter room’ – and met with my opponent. Luckily, I had some information about my opponent beforehand. But, the information was of two years ago. Hopefully, my opponent didn’t change much after that.

 

According to the intel, my opponent’s name was Jack Hofsteder. He was a veteran of two battles. The reason for his desertion was because he chose his family over his post, which resulted in the lost of a castle.

 

Naturally, I’m sure that one person deserting couldn’t have cause the castle to fall, but because of Jack’s bad luck, he became the scapegoat. Now, on to Jack’s abilities. Jack used to be a blacksmith so he was well-versed in using hammers. As a result, his main weapon was a two-handed warhammer.

 

Luckily for me, such weapons may be powerful, but they were extremely slow. This would be an easy win unless Jack had an ace up his sleeve. I arrived at the training room and saw that Jack was already there. However, my eyes squinted nervously when Jack pulled out two single-handed axes instead of his warhammer.

 

I closed my eyes and calmed down. Even if Jack switched to two axes, I could just imagine him using two hammers. After all, there were certain techniques that involved two hammers. Maybe Jack incorporated those techniques into his axe-handling.

 

When I signaled to the referee that I was ready, the match began with a smash of the drums. I observed Jack while choking up on my trident to prepare for close combat. The way Jack held his axes was weird so I focused more on it.

 

Jack had his left axe choked up to the head while he held his right axe near the end of the handle. Having practiced with axes before, I knew that the weapon’s center of gravity was near that region. And because of that, I knew that Jack intended to throw that axe.

 

I shifted my stance and held my net near my waist. Then, I changed my hold of the trident so that I can thrust it at any time. I bet this was the first time Jack had experienced fighting with a gladiator as he had disregarded my positional shift and continued to edge forward.

 

Once Jack was within throwing distance, he suddenly threw the axe at me. Of course, I had prepared for it and, no matter how sudden, I was able to deflect the axe with a whip of my net.

 

While Jack pulled his hand back to change his stance, I lunged forward with a thrust of my trident. I didn’t use all of my power so the axeman was able to barely react to the attack.

 

Jack saw the incoming trident and jerkingly leaned back to parry with his remaining axe. Unfortunately for Jack, I had partially predicted that he would do so and carried my trident back in a wide arc, aiming for the warrior’s legs.

 

Because of his teetering defense earlier, Jack wasn’t able to stabilize his footing and with one swipe of my trident, I knocked him off his feet. Before Jack could scramble back to his feet, I threw my net over him and ‘captured’ him.

 

As Jack struggled to escape the net which became messier the more he struggled, I glanced towards the referee and saw him holding his thumb down. This indicated death.

 

Seeing the referee’s decision, Jack rubbed his hands pleadingly. “Let me go, sir! I have an eighty year old mother and an eight year old daughter to take care of. Sir, let me go and I will never forget your kindness.”

 

Of course, as a gladiator slave, I could not disobey orders and let him go. So, I had to make up an excuse to kill him. I lifted up my trident and stabbed down.

 

“You didn’t say please.” I replied with a deadpanned face.

 

Jack looked back with dead eyes and breathed. “Damned…slave…fuc-.”

 

As soon as I killed the deserter, the referee announced. “Congratulations on winning. This is your badge. Hold on to it as you will need it to enter the arena next week.”

 

Receiving the wooden badge, I thanked the referee before leaving the building. Outside, a group of slaves were busy updating a board and displaying my victory and time. Upon a closer inspection, I found that I was the fifteenth one to finish.

 

“There were fourteen gladiators faster than me? Interesting.” I murmured as I made my way towards my living quarters.

 

Suddenly, three people jumped out and quickly surrounded me. I glared at the three. I knew who they were. They were gladiators just like me. However, it seemed that they had not succeeded in getting a badge.

 

“Stylar, you want this right?” I held up the wooden badge for the trio to see.

 

Stylar, a blond-haired man seventeen years of age, stared at the badge greedily before growling. “Hand over the badge if you don’t want to become crippled.”

 

“Oh? Just you three?” I asked arrogantly.

 

“You’re asking for it! Guys, get him!” Stylar roared as he moved in.

 

Stylar pulled out his twin swords and lunge with a drilling thrust. The two guys behind me rushed in with weapons drawn as well. The one on my right swung his halberd towards my feet while the one on my left pounced with daggers ready.

 

Stylar never learned. He always liked starting off with a drilling thrust. It’s no wonder he lost the preliminary round. Before Stylar could complete his thrust attack, I moved in and struck the two sword down, pinning them to the ground between the trident’s prongs. As the idiot tried to pry his swords away, I kicked him in the chin to knock him out.

 

Grabbing my trident, I twirled around and turned my attention to the assailants behind me. Swiftly, I tossed my net at the guy with the daggers. The thick net half blinded the enemy causing him to stumble and trip over his own foot. With him out of the way for now, I lunged at the halberd guy.

 

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

 

Our weapons crossed, sending out thunder-like rumbles and fiery sparks. It seemed that this guy was more competent than the dagger guy and Stylar. However, to go against me with such killing intent…he needed to die.

 

Suddenly, the guy kicked out a clump of dirt at my face. Hmph! I did this trick four years ago. I smacked the dirt away with my free hand and arced my weapon. The guy knocked my trident out of the way but his movement was too wide.

 

I took this chance to step in even closer, shortening our distance, and giving me a chance to punch the guy’s face. The man staggered back, revealing his vulnerable points. Naturally, I snatched the opportunity.

 

With a twirl, I swung my trident across my opponent’s neck. The fata attack was so fast that a thin, bloody line appeared a few seconds later. Before the halberd guy noticed what had happened, the thin line split back, revealing a fleshy jugular. Blood began to well up and covered the opening.

 

PFFFTT!

 

I turned towards the other two as blood sprayed from the open wound, staining everything in range. The dagger guy struggled and pleaded but I mercilessly stabbed him a few times. Next, it was Stylar’s turn…but the guy was gone!

 

Looking around, I saw Stylar running off in the distance. Sometimes, when I’m in a good mood, I would let my attackers go after a beatdown. However, Stylar threatened to cripple me, so I’ve decided to cripple him instead.

 

I hoisted my trident up and held it over my shoulder. Running towards Stylar a couple of steps, hurled the trident towards Stylar, catching him by his leg. The sharp prongs tore Stylar’s leg clean off.

 

Without checking on Stylar’s status, knowing full well what will happen to him later, I retrieved my weapon and headed back to my place where I decided to rest and train for the upcoming week.

 

*******

 

A week later….

 

Finally, the tournament was here. Thousands of spectators arrived to watch the show, including select groups of nobility as well as the military. They all wanted to see who the champion would be.

 

As the contestants prepared themselves in the waiting room, I noticed that there were only thirty-one present. This meant that sixty-nine of the original hundred failed during the preliminaries, either through death or surrendering. Naturally, those who passed were pretty well-known in the gladiator circle, each with his own nicknames.

 

We were one short of thirty-two, which was perfect for five rounds. So, did this meant that one of us would sit this one out? Possible…unless someone ushered one in through special connections.

 

Well, we’ll find out soon. Minutes later, after hearing the roars of excitement from the audience, the announcer began introducing each one of the contestants. I could hear things like ‘Berserker’ and ‘Heartbreaker’…oh wait, that’s me.

 

I made my way to the door just in time to see the back of my opponent. The Berserker, as his nickname stated, had a short-temper and a penchant for battle. The more he was wounded, the angrier he got and the angrier he got, the stronger his attacks. This might prove to be a difficult first match.

 

Once on stage, the audience cheered. I could hear some female fans of Berserker comment how handsome and manly he looked. Sure he does look like an Adonis, but I’d like to say I’m not too shabby myself.

 

I was even a bit pleased when I heard a female fan comment on how she wanted me to break her heart. Of course, my pleased look fell soon after as her friend told her the real reason for my nickname – that my killer moves were all targeting the opponents’ hearts.

 

After the crowd quieted down, the announcer started the match. I glanced over at my opponent and saw him charging recklessly with two large maces, each mace looked like a large metal ball connected to a medium-long handle.

 

The man rushed over without caring if I attacked or not and threw one of his maces. I quickly dove to the ground and turned just in time to see the large mace dent the tiled floor. Looking back at my opponent, I threw my net in hopes of entangling him.

 

However, the Berserker tore through the threads as if they were made of paper and swung his remaining mace with both hands. Wielding the trident like a spear, I parried the attack and swung my trident across to deal some damage to my opponent.

 

But true to his name, the Berserker ignored the cuts and continued to deal out even more damage. Suddenly, the Berserker leaped through the air, bringing the mace over his head. He was preparing to unleash a heavy attack!

 

With no time to dodge, I raised my trident horizontally and attempted to block the attack. A resounding boom echoed out. Though I managed to block the attack, the pressure caused the veins in my hands to burst open.

 

Without giving me a moment of respite, the Berserker spun one time and brought his mace to my side like a speeding cart. I brought my trident to my side and jumped. The mace smashed into my weapon and its momentum hurtled me across the arena.

 

I tumbled a couple of times but managed to roll back on my feet. With a quick inspection, I found only a few bruises and cuts. Despite no fractures or broken bones, my ribs still creaked in numbing pain.

 

Gritting through the pain, I bolted towards the Berserker. Lifting my trident to my shoulder, I launched it at my enemy, who knocked it away with a sneer. However, that was what I was hoping for. With the wide swing to deflect my trident, my opponent was open for a frontal attack.

 

I charged in and kicked, landing a sickening crunch below the belt. As my enemy fell to his knees in agony, I grabbed a thread from what’s left of my net and wrapped it around the Berserker’s neck.

 

With one foot planted on Berserker’s back, I pulled with all of my strength. The suffocating man roared in anger and started bucking like a bull, slamming me to the ground and to the walls. There were numerous times when I almost let go, however, I persisted.

 

After several minutes, the Berserker stopped moving. I had won. Feeling battered, I made my way to my trident. Just as I was about to pick it up, I heard a noise behind me. The Berserker was still alive!

 

He let out a mighty roar and reached out to grab me. But he was too late. I gripped my trident and stabbed. With my trident’s reach, I pierced the Berserker in his chest before he could reach me.

 

With a twist, I wrenched out the gladiator’s heart and threw it onto the ground. As the Berserker fell, I stomped down on the heart and mashed it to pulp.

 

The crowd was screaming with excitement and bloodlust. The judges and the nobles were pleased with my kill. With my battle over, I hurried off the stage to rest. My next battle would be in two days. I needed to recuperate as much as possible.

 

*******

 

Two days later, it was my turn once more. Over the past few days, I heard about the other contestants’ battles. One preeminent gossip was about the Cannibal’s gruesome victory where he literally ate his opponent torturously to death.

 

Some backstory about the Cannibal also rose up following the gossip. Apparently, the Cannibal came from a famine-plagued country where he developed an intense hunger.

 

On the day of his initiation battle, he was too weak to carry a weapon so he fought barehanded. He was on the verge of being defeated, with all four limbs broken, when he suddenly lunged forward and bit a chunk of flesh off of his opponent’s throat. Since then, he had developed a taste for human blood and flesh.

 

Just when I thought it would be terrifying to fight against the Cannibal, the announcer listed out the following matchups. Yep…I’m fighting Cannibal on the second round.

 

Knowing who I would be fighting next, I decided to be a bit more prepared. I decided to wear gauntlets. However, these gauntlets were a bit different – the fingertips were sharpened to look like claws.

 

Soon, it was our turn. I walked up the stage and faced my opponent. The Cannibal pointed at me and licked his lips before sliding his thumb across his neck. Naturally, I was not one to leave a provocation alone. I thrust my trident out in a twisting motion, telling the audience which move I would be using to finish the Cannibal off.

 

As the crowd cheered, the announcer started the match. The Cannibal immediately started circling me. I, too, began circling in the opposite direction. Meanwhile, I unloaded my net and started spinning it slowly.

 

Suddenly, as if he couldn’t wait anymore, the Cannibal threw a knife at me and charged. I could guess what his tactic was going to be. As soon as I deflected the blade, I won’t have time to defend from any close quarters attack he would use.

 

But, unfortunately for him, I’ve already trained my reflexes to a high level. As soon as I saw the knife, I flicked it away with my net and stabbed my trident towards the Cannibal. Little did I know that instead of backing off or dodging, the Cannibal kept charging.

 

Right before contact, the Cannibal grabbed onto the neck of the trident and spun around, preparing to throw me and my trident over his shoulder. But, the Cannibal felt no weight as he brought the trident over. The reason was because I had let go.

 

Sensing danger from behind, the Cannibal turned around and punched…only to hit air. Where was I? I had crouched down. Using all the strength stored in my legs, I stood up and clawed my way to victory.

 

Long story short, Cannibal’s lower jaw was ripped out from the first claw attack, followed by his eyes. As the Cannibal fell back, I dug out his heart and shoved it down his throat. How’s that for poetic justice?

 

While the announcer proclaimed my victory and the crowd cheered wildly, I sauntered back to the waiting room where I had a chance encounter with the Chivalrous Sword. Now, the Chivalrous Sword was one of those rare types of gladiators who, despite the incessant dissatisfaction from the audience, continued to spare his opponents. But what I don’t get was how he always got pardoned from his refusals. Maybe because he was one of the strongest…maybe.

 

“Congratulations on winning, Heartbreaker.” Chivalrous Sword nodded towards me.

 

“Thanks. Good luck on your next fight.” I replied. “You’re a good guy so stay alive. Word of advice, your opponent – Demonic Fiend – injured his left wrist last week. I hope to meet you in future rounds.”

 

“Haha, who would have thought you had this in you. Thanks for the information. Let’s meet in battle soon.” Chivalrous Sword cupped his fist in gratitude.

 

After exchanging a few words, we went our separate ways. I headed back to my place to rest while he started his second round. It was until I woke up the next day when I heard that he had won the battle. Apparently, however, it seemed that he did not use the advice I gave him. As expected of one of the greats…he didn’t even need to use his opponent’s weaknesses.

 

*******

 

Soon, the third round began….

 

And the matchup was coincidentally between me and Chivalrous Sword. Looking at his fans, if I killed Chivalrous Sword, I might be mobbed left and right. Besides, the man was a gentleman who treated each battle more as a learning experience than an actual battle.

 

The man would spare all his opponents, so it would behoove me to do the same right? This thought lingered in my mind as the announcer started the match. The Chivalrous Sword just stood there with his sword drawn and pointed downwards as if waiting for me to start the first move.

 

The confidence he exuded raised some hairs on the back of my neck. It felt like if I didn’t go all out, I would be destroyed instantly. Maybe I couldn’t wait anymore or maybe I didn’t want to give in to pressure, but I decided to attack first.

 

I charged towards my opponent and swung my net, hoping to entangle his sword. But, the man hopped back and flicked his wrist, deflecting the net. As soon as he landed, he lunged with a thrust.

 

I quickly parried it with my trident and took a few steps forward followed by a left kick. Chivalrous Sword grunted from my kick to his waist and he bent down in some pain. However, instead of looking angry, he smiled.

 

I continued with a thrust of my own, but the swordsman parried and kicked me in the waist as well. That son of a bi-!

 

“Why are you copying me?” I asked, trying to distract him while I swung my trident at his head.

 

While his fans gasped in fear, the Chivalrous Sword leaned back and parried. “Why not? An eye for an eye, a kick for a kick.”

 

“Haha, good one. In that case….” I stabbed once more.

 

But as Chivalrous Sword moved to parry, I let go of my trident, sending it flying towards the swordsman instead. The Chivalrous Sword had a look of surprise as he dove to the ground.

 

As he scrambled to his feet, he raised his sword to defend any incoming attacks, but little did he know, I was waiting for this bit. I reached out and tangled his sword with my net. Followed by a yank, the sword flew out of the swordsman’s hand.

 

“So, what can the Chivalrous Sword do without his sword? Aren’t you just a gentleman now?” I smirked as I kicked at his head.

 

However, the Chivalrous Sword continued to smile despite everything. “Don’t you know that most gentlemen know boxing?”

 

What?

 

As if to answer my question, the man tumbled back and hopped to his feet. He straightened up with one hand placed behind his back and motioned for me to come with his other hand. I grunted, believing that he was bluffing, and charged.

 

Left kick, right block…haymaker, side dodge…jab hook combo, sidesteps…no matter what attack I used, the Chivalrous Sword would either block or dodge with efficiency. Seeing that I’m not going anywhere with this, I stepped back and snarled.

 

“Why are you just blocking me? Are you insulting me? Attack!”

 

“Fine, if that’s your wish.” Chivalrous Sword nodded and punched.

 

Who would have known Chivalrous Sword was good at hand-to-hand combat too? His punches and kicks were not only fast, but also packed full of power. I could only defend under his attacks.

 

But a gentleman would not use cheap tricks…and I’m not a gentleman. During the exchange, I noticed that Chivalrous Sword would look at each attack without blinking. It was as if he could see through my attacks. However, though that could be considered a strength, it was also a weakness.

 

I flipped back after a kick and crouched down to secretly pick up a loose tile and crushed it to pieces. Hiding the shards in my hand, I started punching Chivalrous Sword in order to distract him. When he was focused on blocking my punches, I prepared to throw out a hook.

 

Seeing my shoulder and arm move, Chivalrous Sword raised his arm and stopped the hook in place. However, my fist was open and dirt shards flew out into his face.

 

The Chivalrous Sword reeled back in pain and tears as I took the opportunity to deal some severe punches to his face, chest, and back. Without any chance of retaliation, the swordsman was black and blue by the time I was done with him.

 

As Chivalrous Sword laid there, seemingly unable to move, I decided to end the battle there. For the first time in this tournament, I looked up towards the nobles and the judges to see what they wanted me to do with my opponent. I could be a gentleman too if I set my mind to it.

 

However, the judges seemed to be reactionless. Don’t tell me! I turned my head towards Chivalrous Sword and he wasn’t there! Immediately, I raised my guard and tried to locate him. Not left, not right, not below, not even above…where was he?

 

Then, I heard a rustle. Behind! I turned around just in time to see a blueberry throw a right hook. I crossed my arms to block only to get smacked in the face with a handful of dirt. Damned Chivalrous Sword my ass!

 

Next thing I felt was a world of pain as the cheap bastard started returning the favor with even fiercer punches and kicks of his own. Naturally, I couldn’t defend myself…but having suffered beatings for years, I managed to dodge a punch and pushed back.

 

While the cheap bastard stumbled back, I wiped my face and squinted through my swollen eyes. I’m not going down that easy even if this turned into a brawl! Taking a deep breath, I charged at my opponent and we continued to duke it out.

 

We were at a stalemate until suddenly, he disappeared before my eyes. And then, my face kissed the ground. As darkness befell me, the only thing I could hear before silence were sounds of cheering fans.

 

*******

 

I woke up with a start. I looked around and found myself in an unknown room. Then, I heard a rustle to my side followed by a familiar voice.

 

“You’re awake.”

 

I looked over and saw Chivalrous Sword standing by my side. “I lost didn’t I?”

 

“Yes.” He replied.

 

“Who knew? Who knew that you were like that? Looks like the rumor isn’t true. The Chivalrous Sword isn’t so chivalrous after all.” I laughed.

 

“Ahem! That was something I’m a bit ashamed of myself for.” He coughed embarrassingly. “But, it was a good fight.”

 

I couldn’t help but sneer at those words. “What’s the use for a good fight if you can’t win?”

 

“Winning isn’t everything.” Chivalrous Sword retorted but stopped when I laughed sarcastically.

 

“Get off your high horse. For us gladiators, winning is everything. If we can’t win, we won’t be able to get our wishes granted!”

 

“And what is your wish?”

 

“Freedom! Freedom from this slave status!”

 

“Do you really want freedom?” Chivalrous Sword asked suddenly.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then, follow me.”

 

“Follow you? To where?”

 

“Follow me out of this arena.”

 

“Haha, what can you do? Who are you to say those words?”

 

“I…I am Prince Augus.”

 

Prince Augus? As in Crown Prince Augus?! I gaped in shock. Why was a member of the royal family and the next in line to the throne doing in the arena?

 

As if he knew what I was thinking, Prince Augus replied. “I attended the arena willingly. It was to help train me and provide me with actual combat experience.”

 

“I see. Are you stupid?”

 

“Haha, it does seem like a stupid thing now that I thought about it.”

 

“Then…what do I get for following you?” I asked, getting back on topic. “Will I still be a slave?”

 

“Of course not. You are strong and you are a cheap bastard, but you know when to be merciful. I like that about you. Be my right-hand man.”

 

“I….”

 

“Come on. I’m giving you a chance of a lifetime. Grasp it.”

 

“Alright. Count me in!”

 

“Good! You’re free now.” Prince Augus laughed mirthfully. “Oh, by the way, I didn’t catch your name.”

 

“Ah! My name is Dylan.”