Shing.
After finishing my last swing, I decided to end the training for today.
Small beads of sweat had formed on my forehead, but swinging the sword was no longer as exhausting as it once was.
My muscles felt slightly sore, but that was all. Before, my clothes would be completely drenched in sweat after training.
I was even considering changing my routine and focusing more on my physique. Now that my mana control had reached a high level of proficiency, I could train without enhancements and concentrate purely on raw swordsmanship.
But that was something to think about later.
Resting the sword on my shoulder, I turned and headed toward the exit. As I walked across the arena, I noticed that many of the teens had come to train. Not all of them, but well over half.
The previous batches of teens had not taken training seriously at the beginning. Only after a few fights did they start practicing.
While walking through the arena, I suddenly felt a pair of eyes on me. Tilting my head slightly, I looked to the side and found the source of the gaze.
This wasn't the first time I had felt someone watching me. It had happened several times already, during training—when I was in the middle of a slash or stab.
The sensation of feeling watched was strange and difficult to describe. My guess was that I was able to feel it because of my enhanced senses.
At first, I had assumed it was one of the guards watching me train.
That had happened before.
Most of the guards were the same ones I had seen throughout the year. Only one or two new ones had appeared during that time. Occasionally they glanced at me, probably because I was the only teen who had remained here for so long.
But the one staring at me now wasn't a guard.
It was another teen.
He was tall and looked more mature than the others—at least a few years older than me. His black hair was cut into a short buzz cut, and his dark brown eyes watched me calmly.
He wore the same black clothes as the rest of us.
My gaze shifted to the number on his chest.
[125]
After seeing enough, I turned away and continued walking toward the weapon rack. Placing my sword back in the rack, I left the arena and headed toward the bath.
But my thoughts drifted back to the teen I had seen.
Now that I thought about it…
His skin color.
It was brown.
Like a afro-american.
At the moment I hadn't paid much attention to it. On Earth, seeing a different skin color was completely normal.
But not on Terros.
It was the first time I had seen someone here with a different skin color.
There had been none at the Ashspire estate, and none among the previous batches of teens. Everyone I had seen until now had been white.
It was strange that I had only noticed it now...
Reaching the bath, I pushed the thought aside and stepped inside.
The room was empty.
Most of the teens were still training in the arena.
I walked to one of the faucets and started to undress.
The clothes which had been ripped and torn were no more. I received a new set of clothing with every Blooding. But the number stitched across my chest remained the same.
I glanced down.
[29]
My gaze shifted away from my number and toward my clothes.
The pants and shirt I wore were still in good condition since I had only fought one battle this season.
Taking a piece of soap, I rubbed it over my body before rinsing it off with water. After washing, I decided not to take a bath and dressed again.
I left and made my way back to my cell.
After entering, I grabbed some bread and meat from the crate on the table and walked toward my bed.
Step.
My feet halted when I reached it.
The cell wasnt empty.
Someone stayed behind while the others were training.
Glancing to the side, I saw the girl curled up on the bed opposite mine.
After a brief look, I turned back to my bed, climbed up, and started eating. Once I finished the meal, I let myself fall backward onto the mattress.
Thud.
Before, I used my free time in the cell to train my mana control. But there was no need for that anymore.
I had reached a level of proficiency where a simple enhancement training felt like nothing more than playing around.
With nothing else to do, I closed my eyes and rested.
The fights would begin soon.
By now I had somehow developed an internal sense of time. It wasn't precise, but it was accurate enough to estimate when the fights would start.
I probably had one or two hours left.
My eyes closed and I shifted in the bed until I felt comfortable.
Resting had become a habit.
There had been many times when I nearly died because I overtrained and entered the arena without recovering my strength.
That taught me the importance of rest.
There was no point in exhausting myself with relentless training when my life could end on the same day. Conserving energy was just as important as spending it.
But the downside of it was boredom.
So I had developed the habit of drifting into my thoughts whenever I rested.
Insomnia was another reason.
I hadn't slept properly since arriving here. Nightmares haunted me every night. Falling asleep at night was already difficult. During the day, it was nearly impossible.
So I simply rested.
Lying still with my eyes closed, I let my mind wander.
Sometimes I thought of nothing at all, simply enjoying the silence of the cell.
Other times I remiscienced about the past.
But most often…
I thought about the future.
What would I do when I finally escaped the colosseum?
Where would I go?
How would I take my revenge?
I asked myself endless questions and built plans in my mind.
Imagining different scenarios.
Planning every step.
Letting my imagination run wild was one way to deal with the boredom.
But—
Click.
Step.
It became harder to think once the other teens returned.
The new teens had formed groups as soon as the Rounds of Hell ended. Normally they would spent a few days on adapting to the new environment they were thrown into.
But this time things were different.
Most of them had already formed cliques.
Perhaps it was because of their age. The teens in this batch were older than usual—mostly between sixteen and eighteen.
That was the only explanation I could think of.
The seven teens in my cell had already befriended boys from other cells. Together they formed a group of nearly twenty.
I had seen them training in the arena. The group consisted entirely of boys.
That itself wasn't a problem.
Most of them would die soon anyway.
The real problem was the noise.
They were loud.
Constantly talking.
Joking.
Laughing.
It was irritating when I was trying to rest. Ignoring them wasn't easy when we were all trapped in the same cell.
What I hated the most was how often they talked about me.
About how I hadn't participated in the Rounds of Hell.
About how I must have connections with the guards or the organizers.
I wasn't the type to lash out just because someone was loud.
But what truly made me hate them were their gazes.
The looks they gave me.
There was a certain glint in their eyes that made my skin crawl.
I had seen that look before.
On the ship.
The same expression humans had when they looked at the girls.
Full of desire and greed.
It made me remember the nickname the humans received.
The Race of Sin.
Nothing good ever happened when you stayed close to people like that.
That was why I ignored them.
They wouldn't last long.
Eventually they would disappear and my peace would return.
Turning my head so my ear pressed against the mattress, I disabled the enhancement of my hearing.
The noise faded into the background.
My breathing slowed.
Exhaustion took over.
And a few minutes later, I fell asleep.
***
"Stop!"
My eyes snapped open at the sudden shout.