Click.
The sound of the door opening woke me.
I pushed myself upright, and pain shot through my left hand.
I had forgotten yesterday's injury.
The sudden reminder made my jaw tighten.
Turning my head, I saw a guard.
He stepped inside without looking at any of us and placed a new crate filled with food on the table.
The guard grabbed the empty one and turned to leave, but stopped mid-step.
"You are allowed to train now."
That was all he said before leaving.
The cell door remained open.
My gaze shifted across the room.
Some teens were still asleep while others were already climbing down from their beds.
But there were fewer than yesterday.
Five beds were empty.
Five.
They had died in their duels.
Now we were only eleven.
And tomorrow—
Even less.
The number pressed heavily against my chest, but I pushed the feeling away.
I climbed down and walked to the table, filling a cup with water and drinking it in one go. Then I grabbed two slices of bread and some meat before stepping out of the cell.
There was no time to waste.
I should train and rest before they send me out again.
Step.
I walked through the corridor, chewing on the meat.
There were no other teens in sight. Only a few guards patrolled.
They didn't even glance at me.
As if I didn't exist.
By the time I reached the metal gate of the arena, I had finished eating.
The gate stood wide open.
Two guards sat near the weapon stands, playing cards at a small table. One of them briefly glanced at me before returning to the game.
The arena itself was empty.
The sand was smooth—flattened as if nothing had ever happened.
No footsteps were visible, and even the bloodstains had vanished.
As if yesterday's death had never existed.
A few guards sat scattered across the empty rows where the crowd usually roared.
Six.
Maybe eight.
Some glanced toward me as I entered before shifting away.
I made my way toward the weapon stand on the right and pulled out a longsword.
Shing.
It was heavier than the short sword from yesterday.
I rested the blade over my shoulder and walked toward a far corner of the arena.
I liked the silence.
With no other teens, there were no interruptions, and I could fully concentrate on my training.
Step.
I planted my feet at shoulder-width apart, left foot half a step forward, and raised the sword into position, tip throat leveled.
The sword's weight made my arms tremble, and I had to enhance my arm with mana to keep the position.
Warmth spread slowly from my core to my shoulder, then into my arm and fingers.
The sword felt lighter immediately, easier to hold.
But that wasn't enough.
I drew even more mana and pushed it into my other arm.
The more I reinforced my body, the more strain it left on my mind—like pressure building behind my eyes.
But I needed this.
I had been lucky yesterday.
The Zone.
That hyper-focused state where the body moves without thought.
It won't happen again.
I needed to train my mana control until I could use it at will.
I had learned to use my arms and legs as a child.
But—
Mana was different.
It felt like a fifth limb—easy to use but hard to control.
Yesterday's duel had taught me that technique and form wouldn't decide a fight.
A strong strike would break through my half-baked techniques like a piece of paper.
What I needed now wasn't technique.
It was strength.
And mana would give me that strength.
So mana control came first, and swordsmanship second.
After stabilizing the enhancement in my arms, I guided mana into my legs.
Warmth spread downward toward my feet, and strength surged.
I stood unmoving, holding the enhancement until I felt comfortable.
Haah.
I let out a breath and stepped forward.
Step.
I felt the sand give in under my left foot from the added strength.
My hip twisted, and my shoulder rolled forward before I swung the sword.
Shing.
The sword cut through the air in a clean arc.
But—
The moment the tip reached the lowest point was when the enhancement broke down.
Mana dispersed at once, and I almost fell face-first downward from the sword's weight.
Step.
Thud.
My legs shook as I barely regained my balance before falling, but the sword crashed into the ground.
Haah.
It would have been okay with only one arm enhanced, but the whole body showed a different kind of difficulty.
My focus had waned just for a moment, but it was enough for the mana to disperse.
Hah.
I let out a sharp breath.
'Fine.'
I lifted the sword out of the sand and went into position.
'Again.'
Warmth spread through my body, slowly, enhancing one limb after another.
Step.
I stepped forward and slashed again.
Shing.
The mana dispersed.
'Again.'
***
Thud.
The sword tip buried itself in the sand.
My arms trembled too much to hold it upright any longer.
Haah.
I had trained for hours and used up almost all the mana my core held.
Haah.
I leaned on the pommel of the sword and tried to steady my breathing.
The arena was no longer empty.
It was filled with the sound of blades cutting through air.
Weapons clashed, and teens shouted.
My arms were sore and my legs weak.
It felt like every muscle in my body burned.
A dull headache pulsed behind my eyes—a side effect after too much mana usage.
But the pain was worth it.
I had improved my mana control.
The record lay now at three clean strikes, fully enhanced, without pause.
Three...
It wasn't much.
A Swordmaster could exchange dozens of those in a matter of seconds.
But progress was progress.
Today I achieved three strikes.
Tomorrow—
Will be at least four.
Eventually—
I will be able to hold on for a whole fight.
Hah.
I lifted the sword with what strength I had left and carried it back to the weapon rack.
The two guards at the entrance had changed shifts. The new guards watched me briefly as I returned the sword before returning to their game.
Step.
I stopped at the threshold and turned back, eyes scanning the arena.
Nearly a hundred teens were scattered across the arena.
Some practiced alone while others exchanged blows in a friendly duel.
All trained desperately for their survival.
And yet—
Some weren't here.
I turned and walked out of the arena.
They all knew that we had to fight duels, but still stayed in their cells.
Had they given up?
I couldn't understand it.
If there was even a chance to survive—
Why should you give up?
Sleeping the whole day, not knowing if it could be your last?
It just didn't sit right with me.
Step.
I halted my steps as I reached the bath.
Today it wasn't empty.
Two boys stood near the faucets, scrubbing dirt from their skin, and a girl sat in the basin—fully clothed.
At first, it looked strange.
Then I understood.
She was a young girl. Of course, she didn't want to undress around them.
Step.
I ignored their stares and walked toward a free faucet.
Without hesitation, I undressed myself.
The moment my shirt came off—
Silence settled.
The two boys stopped mid-conversation, and the girl let out a silent gasp.
It didn't take long for me to realize that their reaction must have been due to the collar and shackles that bound me.
That wasn't anything new.
I ignored them and placed a bucket beneath the faucet before turning the water on.
I lifted the filled bucket and poured it over myself before I began to soap and scrub my body clean.
Sweat and blood came off.
It stung as the water splashed on my wounds, but I clenched my jaw and continued.
When I finished, I chose not to enter the basin.
It would be awkward.
Instead, I took a towel from the shelf and dried myself.
The teens cast a few more glances as I dressed myself.
At last, before leaving, I opened the last drawer of the shelf and took a few pieces of cloth with me.
They would come in handy if I injured myself again.
I stepped out of the bath and made my way back.
Back in the cell, I grabbed some remaining bread and meat out of the crate and climbed onto the bed.
The food vanished after a few bites.
My mana was still a bit drained, and I needed some time before it was fully replenished again.
I didn't know when the fights would start.
So I decided to rest rather than train again and lie down.