Ceres grimaced as he and Halyon dragged the decapitated body of the rulebreaker away from the arena. The spurting neck caused blood to stain their medical outfit and gloves.

Ceres was almost about to barf and Halyon wasn’t feeling too good either, but the both of them sucked it up and did their job, carrying him to a disposal room under Cain’s orders.

“You guys will get all the simple easy jobs today. Don’t worry, I won’t let you take any dangerous roles on your first day.” Cain gave them a large thumbs up as he left with the other cleaners to supervise the cleaning of the blood stains on the wall.

The two of them were left alone with the dead body laid on a plain metal table like an autopsy. Halyon noticed Ceres trying to avoid looking at the body, smirking. “Didn’t you massacre more than a hundred of the Chosen? Why are you being squeamish now?”

“That was a different situation and you know it.” Ceres frowned.

“Well, you got to buckle up. I’m not going to let go of this job on the first day.”

“Says the guy who can’t look at the body either.”

“HEY! You guys forgot this, catch!” Another cleaner opened the room door, tossing the head of the rulebreaker to them.

Ceres caught it on reflex, but he almost yelped at the sight of the fierce eyes staring back at him, before quickly placing it on the table. Both of them looked at each other, knowing that they had no choice but to do it.

[Begin extraction of organs for designated deposit. Implants to be segregated accordingly.]

Following a procedure that was displayed on a terminal, they proceeded to ‘salvage’ everything of value from the body. First, they removed the exosuit, storing it properly on the side before cleaning the body with alcohol.

Using a scanner, they detected multiple illegal cybernetic implants in the person, and while it took longer than it should have, the squeamish pair managed to dig their hands in and extract the tiny chips from under the skin and between muscles.

They had zero experience in it, but the procedure also detailed how to properly remove the implants. Despite having done so, they weren’t surgeons and were not about to become one, especially when it was obvious the procedure did not care for the comfort of the patient, seeing as he was already dead.

The procedure laid out a simplified flowchart for carving out the organs. “Wow, when they say ‘salvage’ they really meant ‘salvage’,” Halyon muttered as he gritted his teeth and got to it, trying to suppress his inner fear.

Ceres too was not used to this. Despite having already killed humans before, it was still hard to see other humans as just raw products. But Ceres also knew that he had to grow up at some point if he wanted to find out the truth. He would never be able to get anywhere if he kept feeling squeamish at such things as a kid.

Was it really worth growing up if one had to do such things? Ceres wondered whether his friends would have changed drastically either. He was the only one stuck in time, despite being enhanced and imbued with some weird power. If finding his friends required him to change his morals, then he would gladly do it, but he still wasn’t entirely sure if he needed to actually do this job.

Each organ was extracted and Ceres had to carry it to a nearby machine that scanned the organ. The machine rejected organs that were either compromised, unhealthy, or just underdeveloped. Many of the organs from the rulebreaker were abnormal, showing signs of tampering. “This rulebreaker was really off his rocker – looks like he tried his own organs with cup noodles first before using others.”

After a gruelling thirty minutes and an extremely messy job that looked like an 8-year-old kid trying his hand at surgery, they finally finished the procedure. Before they could even heave a sigh of relief, Cain barged in through the door, scowling as another four cleaners carried in two bodies.

“Hey, I know it’s your first time, but you got to go faster now. The battle royale is starting soon so it’s going to be much more hectic!” One of the cleaners yelled over before running back out.

Sure enough, within an hour, Ceres and Halyon were already both working separately on different bodies, accompanied by other cleaners who were also working alongside them. The time constraints already forced Ceres to become numb to the entire process, treating the dead bodies like a factory product going through an assembly line. Even female bodies barely registered in his mind any longer, being another ‘task to complete.’

Was what he was doing considered evil? It slightly scared Ceres that by simply following the order and structure of the task, he could simply commit something that would be viewed as morally evil. The number of bodies coming kept piling up, forcing him to push that thought to one side.

However, Ceres soon noticed a trend in the cause of death for many of these bodies. He inspected his current ‘patient’ that still had her exosuit on, placing his hand over a few of the puncture wounds that broke through the armour.

“Who the hell repaired this exosuit?” Ceres muttered to himself, clearly noticing that four different repairers had repaired this exosuit, their modifications or additions clashing with each other.

It felt like the exosuit was a complete mismatch of materials and components. The power system was not able to withstand the power draw of her weapon and motors, resulting in her suffering from heat mismanagement that surely distracted her.

He quickly processed the body, going through the procedure and becoming even more disgusted at the state of the exosuit. After harvesting the organs, he quickly moved to the next body allocated to him, examining the cause of death as well.

“No way, he basically died to his own exosuit!” He put his finger into one of the bullet holes that punctured the armour, noticing that the armour was so easily fragmented that it was more of the shards than the bullets that hurt him.

Ceres tried asking the other cleaners who were the original designers who made the exosuits for the fighters, but no one knew. Ceres did not blame them, but as an exosuit repairer and self-proclaimed designer, he could not tolerate seeing such shoddy work being done.

Towards the end of the day, Ceres finally had the chance to meet with Cain, asking him directly.

“Exosuits huh… yea they are provided by the arena most of the time. You can see we use second-hand exosuits, we barely even know the design of them since they had already previously undergone so much modification. We do have a repairer in-house…You know how to repair an exosuit?” Cain scratched his chin, finding it hard to believe that the first-timer was an exosuit repairer.

It was rare to find people with technical skills in Rockhold, not because they were dead, but because they were usually snapped up by the big gangs. Bee Strathon needed lots of exosuit repairers to go on mining teams, while both the rebellion and the Queen wanted top talents to bolster their own forces.

Regardless, Cain decided to bring Ceres to the exosuit repair workshop, leaving Halyon behind in the body disposal room. Having an extra exosuit repairer would save the arena much more money.

The exosuit repair workshop handled the damaged exosuits removed from the dead fighters, preparing them for the next batch of fresh fighters.

When Ceres and Cain entered, they only saw a lone old man working on an exosuit, with trembling hands while he sat on a three-step stool, prodding the exosuit with a current probe. He almost electrocuted himself as his tool shorted a circuit, causing him to fall over onto the floor with a loud thud.

“That’s your exosuit repairer? This guy?” Ceres asked incredulously.

Cain smiled meekly: “It’s hard to find exosuit repairers that are good, or sane. Most of them would never want to work in Rockhold.”

“This ‘guy’?! I used to be the best exosuit repairer in the inner zones!” The old man flipped and raged as he got to his feet. “The five families used to fear my name, and I would have dominated the economy if it was not for their treachery.” He stomped over to Ceres, wagging his finger at him angrily. “Who the hell is this snotty brat!?”

“He’s an exosuit repairer, so I’ll ask Saul to transfer him over…” Cain began to introduce Ceres, but the old man suddenly slammed his foot on the ground in a tantrum.

“NO! I won’t allow it! No one who disrespects me in my workshop is allowed in!” The old man yelled at Cain, stomping his feet again in an immature tantrum. “If he joins, I’m leaving. Have fun with a faker who probably doesn’t know left from right, positive from negative!”

Ceres was reminded of Zhang and his paranoia back in the subterranean town, sighing. It was only his first day at the arena so it was best not to start any fights. Instead of shouting back, Ceres instead bowed and apologized: “Sorry, I did not recognize your mastery at the beginning. Please forgive my words just now. I will not disturb you any longer.” 

With that, he turned to leave, while Cain shrugged his shoulders at the sight. He wasn’t convinced that Ceres was an exosuit repairer either, and he wasn’t about to fight the only lifeline of the arena and potentially cause a disaster.

The old man was stunned, not expecting Ceres to actually apologize. He wanted Ceres to get angry and argue with him so he had a reason to kick Ceres out of the arena. “That kid is dangerous… He threatens my superiority within the arena. This is the only place left where I will get some respect!”

***

The days flew by as Ceres and Halyon fell into a standard routine. The smell and things they had to do no longer bothered them, desensitizing them to the illegal and gruesome nature of the arena. Ceres was still continuously appalled by the shoddy workmanship on the exosuits he had seen so far, but he still kept low.

When he met the old man in the workshop, he instinctively knew that the two of them would not get along at all. He could sense a rapid swirl of emotions inside the old man, characteristic of someone who had large mood swings. There was no way Ceres could converse rationally with him without first proving himself.

Instead, he focused on talking to the other cleaners, learning more about the arena and how it operated. He also found a few good bits of information regarding the ‘White Fang’, as the rebellion was a hot topic in Rockhold.

“Wait, the ‘White Fang’ was actually here on the first day we started? What the hell?” Halyon shouted as Ceres nodded his head in response.

“So we’re finally on to something. But how do we get close to him? Right now we’re just two no-name arena cleaners…” Halyon contemplated.

“We have a decent salary and a place to stay now, but we need a reputation. If we can become well-known enough without revealing our identity, then we can most likely achieve a meeting with the ‘White Fang’. He’s known for recruiting good fighters from the arena.”

“Are you going to participate in the fights?”

“No way, have you seen how shoddy the exosuits are? It’s like a walking death trap. I don’t have my own exosuit now, and I barely even have a workshop or material to make it. If only I could somehow get my foot into the arena’s workshop…” Ceres pondered to himself. Could he somehow engineer a situation to get him recognized by Saul enough to replace the old man?

In Saul’s office, Saul was grinning widely at the walking pot of money who just entered. “Thank you for accepting the invitation, Saater. It’s an honour to have you partake in the upcoming arena matches. I assure you that you will not be disappointed by what we have to offer.”

“Is that so? Well, I’m looking forward to it. I’m only here as compensation for the death of your employees before as well as for agreeing to assist us.” A tall tanned man with curly hair and a handsome face smiled gently. He wore the same combat armour as Julia before, the standard of the Queen’s Guards.

“Of course, anything for the Queen.” Saul bowed politely. The amount of money was going to be more than anything before.

Saater was one of the most popular fighters of the Queen’s Guards in Rockhold and around, with many fans and followers. He was a bonafide superstar.

With his help, Saul was guaranteed to have full seating for the entire week! It could be a week-long money-making festival all on its own.

To Saul, this was probably the biggest break he’s had ever since he bought the arena over, which had been failing in the past. Who wanted to see controlled fights without any deaths? This was Rockhold, and Saul knew it best.

Blood, gore, death, thrilling fights gladiator style!

“Please pick and choose which fights you will like to participate in – we have duels, team battles, battle royales, man versus wild and…”

“Man versus wild,” Saater said without an ounce of hesitation, not even bothering to hear the other types. “I doubt there’s any other fighter in this arena that will be able to give me a challenge, so there’s no point fighting humans.”

Saul’s face immediately paled.

Saater noticed it, crossing his arms and staring at Saul. “Why, are you afraid I will lose and die? If I do, the Queen’s Guards will not blame you.”

“No, no, no. Nothing of the sort. I’m just worried that your fans would be disappointed if they only saw you in a single category. I’m sure your charisma and overwhelming dominance would be enhanced if you participated in other matches as well!” Saul desperately tried to explain his behaviour.

Saater pondered for a while before finally smiling. “Hmm, you make a good point. Well then, I will do a different category every day just as you have suggested. I will let you choose.”

“Thank you, thank you. Now my employee Cain will guide you to our VIP holding room. The matches start in ten days, so feel free to get acquainted with the arena and available exosuits…” Saul pointed towards Cain who entered the office from outside and was bowing in respect.

“I have already brought my own specialized exosuit.”

“Ah yes, of course, the Mirage Gunner! How could I forget such an outstanding exosuit? Yes of course you can use your own weapons.” Saul nodded his head vigorously.

Cain led Saater away, with Saul left alone in his office. He let out a large sigh, sweating from the catastrophe he had almost unleashed upon himself.

Sure, Saater was a money-maker, but so were the beasts that he had accumulated during his time here at the arena. It was already hard to acquire such unique exobeasts from off-world, not to mention illegal.

Saul was not afraid that Saater would lose, he was afraid Saater would win too hard and completely kill the beasts! He shuddered at the thought of losing more than 30% of his beasts to Saater, but thankfully he successfully appealed to his vanity

“This is going to be the best arena festival yet!” Saul grinned as he started to draft next week’s matches, putting out an advertisement for fighters. There was no shortage of fighters in Rockhold, as Saul simply needed to dangle money in front of the desperate – but this time he needed to lure more trained fighters to make the matches more exciting.

He shot out multiple messages to known mercenary groups, freelance bodyguards, famous explorers and retired veterans, offering advance payment for them to participate.

The advertisements were a hit. With Saater’s face being the main show attraction – thousands of wannabe celebrities grabbed the chance to take down Saater or leech off his matches to earn more fans. Who cared about the possibility of death when there was the chance to gain a few more fans?

Word began to spread around Rockhold, turning the upcoming matches with Saater into a huge event. “Yes, yes, YES! It’s viral now! The money will flow!” Saul laughed maniacally to himself. “It’s a guaranteed hit - who in Rockhold doesn’t know who Saater is?!”