A guard's voice echoed through the corridor.
"29! 31!"
He shouted the two numbers as he opened the door.
My head turned toward him before I climbed down from the bed and walked over.
I glanced to the side as another teen stood up as well.
It had been some time since I last fought someone from my own cell.
At the beginning, there had always been that strange silence when I was the only one who came back. But by now, even the others had grown numb to death.
I walked out of the cell with number 31 behind me, and we followed the guard through the corridor.
We reached the metal gate and waited.
Thud.
The doors soon opened wide, light spilling through the gap, and we stepped into the arena.
I stopped beside the weapon rack and pulled out a shortsword before making my way toward the center of the arena.
31 stopped a few paces away from me.
He was a bit shorter than me, with short black hair.
His brown eyes locked with mine as he raised his sword into a guard position.
I stood opposite him.
My sword hung at my side, its tip pointing toward the ground, leisurely.
After a moment, I shifted my gaze toward the podium.
I couldn't care less about John's speech and waited for the signal.
Finally—
"Blood!"
The crowd answered.
"NO MERCY!"
The fight began.
I looked at my opponent again.
His stance was off, and there was a slight tremble in his hands as he raised the sword.
'I will finish it fast.'
With that thought, I took a step forward.
Step.
He stayed in place, readying himself for my attack.
Step.
I walked slowly, closing the distance, and delivered a clean diagonal slash as an opening.
Clang.
He blocked with a side guard, gripping his sword with both hands.
The force behind my strike was strong enough to make his feet slide back through the sand.
I pulled my sword back and continued with the next attack.
Swoosh.
A fast stab aimed at his left shoulder.
31 tried to step aside and dodge, but was too slow.
Slrrt.
My blade grazed him, cutting a fine line across his outer shoulder.
I pulled back again and turned on my heel around myself, before using the force of the spin to deliver another diagonal slash aimed at his chest.
Clang.
He blocked a breath too late and couldn't negate all the force of my strike.
Our blades separated, and he staggered backward, nearly losing his footing.
Step.
I used that moment to push further and stepped in, but he reacted instinctively, swinging weakly at my unguarded left side.
Shing.
Before I knew it, my left hand had shot forward, reaching for his blade.
Clang.
His blade hit the nearly unbreakable shackle around my wrist and shifted aside.
Without hesitation, I clenched my fingers around the sword's grip and—
Smash.
—punched him straight in the face.
His head snapped back at once as he staggered back.
But I didn't give him time to rest.
Step.
I stepped forward, sliding my foot between his legs and behind his left heel. Then turned my arm and pushed against his chest with my forearm.
Thud.
He fell helplessly to the ground, not knowing what had happened.
Swoosh.
I stabbed forward, stopping a hair's length away from his throat.
Ending the duel.
"That's our 29!"
"You're making me rich!"
"I told you he would become a champion!"
The crowd erupted at my victory.
I kept the tip of my sword near his throat and looked toward the podium, waiting.
It didn't take long—
"My guests, you decide. Blood or mercy?"
To my surprise, most of them lifted their hands in the air, voting for mercy.
I had expected Blood since the fight had ended too quickly.
John declared, "Mercy it is!"
I pulled my sword back.
Without wasting more time, I turned and walked toward the gate.
I placed my sword back in the rack and waited in front of the gate for a guard to arrive and escort us.
A guard arrived a moment later, escorting us back to the cell.
31 walked silently behind us, head lowered.
Once inside, I grabbed some food from the crate and climbed onto the bed.
After eating, I looked toward the wall beside me.
Once again, I didn't need to add another number.
That always gave me a faint sense of relief.
I stared at it for a moment longer before lying down.
As usual—
Sleep didn't come immediately, and I began to train my mana control.
While maintaining the mana lines, I started planning my next move.
It was still too early.
The guards' patrols were still tight.
I needed to wait until the fights were over and the others were asleep before taking a proper look at the broken piece I had smuggled in.
***
I opened my eyes and lifted my head toward the door.
The corridor had been quiet for over an hour.
'The fights must have ended.'
I glanced toward the other beds.
With the dim light of the lightstones, I couldn't see clearly—but the sound of breathing told me the five others were asleep.
I spared one last glance toward the corridor and waited, no footsteps echoed.
'Now.'
Slowly, I sat up.
I reached under the mattress and pulled the broken piece of metal out.
I lifted it carefully and examined it in the faint light.
It was roughly the length of my hand.
The broken end was uneven in length and width, its edges were sharp enough to cut skin.
Enough to be used as a weapon.
But that wasn't important.
The length was good enough to be used as a lever.
But I couldn't grip it properly without injuring myself.
I needed to dull the broken edge enough to use it as a handle.
There weren't many ways to dull the blade.
The arena was too exposed.
Same for the corridor.
The bath would be filled with teens, and even if not.
They could always enter.
The cell was the only place.
I would hear the guards in time.
But the problem was the teens.
I could try to do it after my training, but then there wouldn't be much time left before they arrived, and the guards would patrol at tighter intervals.
I had to do it at night, when the teens were sleeping, and the guards patrolled less.
The only risk was the noise.
I glanced around once more.
Then I carefully placed the metal piece into my right hand and gripped it around the duller part of the blade.
There were only two ways to dull it.
The stone floor, which would be stupid at night.
Or the wall.
It didn't take me long to decide on which option to choose.
Slowly, I pressed the jagged edge against the stone wall beside the bed.
I tested it at first.
How loud would it be?
Scratch.
A low scratching sound echoed—but in the silence of the night, it felt loud.
But seeing no reaction from the other teens, I tried it again.
Scratch.
Still nothing.
Gaining confidence, I enhanced my hand slightly and pressed the piece harder against the wall.
I kept the movement slow, controlled.
My eyes drifted through the cell, watching if someone would wake up.
Every time someone shifted in their sleep, my heart jumped, and my hand froze.
But after seeing that they were still asleep, I continued.
After some time, one of the teens began snoring—masking the sound of the scratching, making me bolder.
I focused less on the other teens and shifted my gaze to the broken piece as I rubbed it against the wall.
I worked for what felt like hours.
But I had to stop whenever footsteps echoed through the corridor and hid the piece under the mattress while acting as if asleep.
Eventually—
Rustle.
Bedsheets shifted.
My hand stopped, and I turned toward the sound.
There—
On an upper bunk bed, a few paces away.
A teen was awake.
It was number 31.
He stared at the piece of metal in my hand. Then at me.
Panic rose, and my heart raced wildly.
Without thinking, I lowered my hand holding the piece and lifted a finger to my lips.
Silence.
He didn't react for a few moments and just stared at me.
Then—
He nodded and turned away.
I sighed as relief washed over me, and my heart calmed.
Still, the tension remained, and my confidence was gone.
I decided to stop for today.
Examining the piece one last time, I confirmed that the edges were duller now—but not enough.
A few more hours would finish the job.
I hid it beneath the mattress after confirming my progress and lay down.
I had stayed awake far longer than usual.
Exhaustion crept in quickly.
Closing my eyes—
Sleep came.
And with it—
Another nightmare.