"BLOOD, NO MERCY!"
I stood in front of 36's corpse while they shouted.
It was strange.
At first, when I killed another teen, there was always this lingering feeling.
Was it self-loathing?
Sadness?
Pity?
Anger?
It's hard to describe.
To keep it short—
I felt like shit.
Taking the life of another human being...
Even if my life was at stake.
Even if survival demanded it.
It always left me depressed.
I told myself that I had to survive until tomorrow.
That I had to keep the promise I made to Lisa.
I even wrote their numbers on the wall to 'remember'.
Those were excuses.
They didn't erase what I did.
It was always like that.
But now—
As I looked down at 36's corpse—
A boy maybe one or two years older than me…
He probably had a family.
Friends.
People who cared for him.
A boy who ended up in this hell of a place because of bad luck—
I felt nothing as I looked at his unmoving body.
Blood covered his skin.
His spear was still clenched tight in his hands.
His eyes were wide open.
Still—
I felt nothing.
No remorse.
No sadness.
No pity.
Nothing.
After watching long enough, I let my sword fall to the sand and turned toward the exit, ignoring whatever John was saying.
Step.
Each step felt hollow.
It was strange.
That feeling of nothing.
What kind of human feels nothing after killing another?
Or had I become something else?
Killing and killing and killing.
Again and again.
What happens if I continue like this?
Will I still be myself?
'No.'
I don't know where the answer came from, but it settled.
I'll become someone else.
I won't be Lukas—the one who lived on Earth.
I won't be Adonis—the one raised at the Ashspire estate.
And the moment that thought settled—
Fear crept in.
The most primal human fear.
The fear of losing yourself.
Your existence.
But not death.
Not for me.
Since the moment I received my memories from Earth, there had always been a quiet doubt.
What if I change again?
I told myself that I was Lukas.
I decided that I was reborn as Adonis.
But what proof did I have?
Memories...
That's all.
And what about that strange being that possessed my mind when I was reborn?
The question that had tortured me all this time resurfaced again.
What if I was never Lukas?
What if I wasn't Adonis?
What if I am someone completely different?
A being that had stolen another's memories and body?
And now—
Feeling nothing over another human's death.
Killing for survival.
Where will that lead me?
Who will I become after everything?
What if more memories surface—
Who will I be?
Or worse—
Who was I all along?
The questions coiled around my mind as I walked back to my cell.
Click.
The door closed behind me.
I climbed onto the bed and pulled out the cloth strips hidden under the mattress.
I began bandaging my arm and stomach in silence.
The wounds stung.
But I barely felt it.
After tying the final knot, I turned toward the stone wall.
I brushed my finger through the blood on my shirt and wrote.
[36]
Another number was added to the wall.
I stared at it longer than usual.
Still nothing.
I lay back down.
Exhaustion clung to my body like weights.
Not from the fight.
But—
From the questions that tormented me.
I closed my eyes—
And another nightmare came.
***
Time passed in a blur.
Click.
I woke to the sound of the door opening.
The guards brought a new crate of food and refilled the water barrel before allowing us to train.
I had some bread and meat for breakfast before I headed toward the arena.
I picked the heavier longsword for my training sessions.
I enhanced all my limbs and practiced both mana control and swordmanship.
I practiced for hours.
But—
Where I usually stopped, today I didn't.
My body felt weak after using up most of my mana, but I kept going.
These questions...
They were still there, clouding my mind, and the only time I could forget about them was when the small headache bloomed behind my eyes.
Mana exhaustion.
Or at least something similar to it.
My mana drained with each passing second.
Until—
Drip.
The sound of something wet touching the ground rang.
Drip.
Blood.
Drip.
It was my blood.
The small headache had already turned worse, making me feel like a hammer had struck my skull.
My nose started to bleed, and the surroundings blurred.
Thud.
The sword fell out of my grip and to the ground.
My body had grown weak and sluggish.
There was no strength left.
Not even in the muscles that I hadn't used as much.
It felt like the mana drainage had affected my whole body.
A breath passed.
My body swayed.
Step.
I barely regained my balance, keeping me from falling.
Haah.
I let out a long breath.
My eyes lowered toward the sword lying in the sand.
There was no use.
I gave up without trying, turned, and walked out of the arena with heavy steps.
My legs swayed all couple of steps bordering on collapse but I kept going.
I skipped the bath and returned to my cell.
Somehow, I managed to climb onto the bed with the remaining strength I had left.
Exhaustion took over, and I fell asleep.
***
"29!"
A guard shouted.
I woke and followed him out of the cell and back to the arena.
Exhaustion still clung to my body, but I had at least regained enough strength to fight.
My opponent was weaker and didn't know how to use mana properly.
It was a desperate fight for both of us.
I exchanged a deep cut across my side for a stab at his heart and ended it.
I felt nothing as I stared at his cold body.
Back in the cell, I added another number to the wall.
[42]
Sleep didn't come immediately, and I practiced my mana control instead.
Soon—
Between one enhancement and the next.
My eyes closed.
Only for another nightmare to start.
***
Time blurred even more.
A guard brought food.
I ate breakfast before going to the arena.
I trained until my mana was completely drained.
I returned to the cell and slept.
I woke when a guard called my number.
I followed him to the arena.
I was injured.
I won the fight.
I returned to the cell.
I added his number to the wall.
[57]
I lay down.
I practiced my mana control.
I grew tired.
I had another nightmare.
***
Click.
I woke to the sound of the door opening.
I had breakfast.
I walked toward the arena.
I trained until my mana was drained.
I returned to the cell.
I slept.
"29!"
I woke to a guard's shout.
I followed him.
I desperately fought and won.
I returned to the cell.
I added another number.
[43]
I trained my mana control.
I grew tired.
I had a nightmare.
***
Click.
I woke up.
I had breakfast.
I trained until my mana was drained.
I slept.
"29!"
I woke up.
I desperately fought and won.
I added another number.
[37]
I trained my mana control.
I had a nightmare.
***
Breakfast
Training.
Sleeping.
Fighting.
[45]
Mana.
Nightmare.
***
Breakfast.
Training.
Sleeping.
"29!"
A guard called my number.
My head turned toward him, body heavy.
I climbed down from the bed and followed him in silence.
Another teen was waiting in front of the gate.
We waited for it to open.
Thud.
The gate opened with a heavy sound, and the metal scraped against stone.
Step.
The feeling of sand beneath my feet was already familiar.
The crowd roared as we entered.
I walked toward the rack and brushed my hand over the handles of various weapons.
Daggers.
Axes.
Spears.
Halberds.
Broadswords.
Longswords.
Short swords.
My fingers stopped at the familiar pommel of the short sword I had used before.
I pulled it free.
Shing.
I lifted the sword slightly and watched the reflection on the blade.
Bright blue eyes stared back at me.
Dark circles marked them.
The pitch-black hair had grown longer, nearly covering those eyes.
The face reflected looked—
Worn.
Exhausted.
Hollow.
Having seen enough, I lowered the sword again.
Step.
My feet carried me to the center of the arena.
My eyes lowered.
The clothes I wore...
It was hard to call them clothes.
The black cloth was stained red.
Pants with dozens of cuts over them.
A shirt that had one sleeve missing and was almost split in half, hanging barely together by a few strings.
Step.
I reached the center and shifted my gaze toward the high podium.
John was already standing there.
He made the same bow as always, greeting us.
He wore the same crimson suit.
The same white mask.
Everything was the same.
And yet—
There was something different about him today.
That red smile—
The one drawn across his mask.
It seemed to curve a little wider than usual.
As if he were mocking me.
His mask turned toward me at that moment.
Red eyes staring down at me.
A moment passed.
And he turned back toward the crowd.
"Dear guests, our young lambs have arrived! And as you can see, it is number 29 against—"
The arena held its breath.
John continued.
"NUMBER 8!"
The crowd exploded immediately.
"Yeah!"
"Show him your sword!"
"Kill him!"
"I bet all my money on you!"
"8!"
"Make me rich!"
I was confused.
Why were they so excited?
John spoke again before I could think more.
"We have all seen him fight! It was like watching a young sword saint! He has dominated every duel! Not giving his opponents even a chance to strike back! And today—will he claim victory again? Or will number 29 stop our rising star?"
My head snapped toward my opponent at his words.
Number 8.
He was slightly taller than me and had an average build. A shortsword rested in his right hand.
Nothing special.
He felt my stare and turned his head toward me, our eyes locked.
Then—
His lips curved ever so slightly.
He smiled before shifting his gaze back to the podium.
Something...
Something felt wrong.
Not just the crowd.
Not just John.
Something else...
My eyes stayed locked on number 8 as if I could find out what was going on if I stared longer.
John's voice thundered again.
"Place your bets before it's too late!"
The crowd broke into an uproar.
"A hundred on 8!"
"Give me eighty on 8!"
"Five hundred on 8!"
"Make it a thousand!"
"Twenty on 29!"
John's voice broke through their uproar.
"Enough words! Let the duel begin!"
"BLOOD!"
The crowd screamed.
"NO MERCY!"