I was pushed into my cell by the guards, and the door closed behind me.
Click.
I stood there for a few moments longer, waiting until I was sure they had left. Only when I no longer heard their footsteps did I lift a hand and place it on my chest.
Pain shot through my body.
It hurt.
Still, as I slowly applied more pressure over my chest and stomach, I confirmed that nothing was broken.
The palm strike had been strong, but it seemed the guard had held back. I had no serious injuries. The pain would likely be gone after a good night's sleep.
After checking my body's state, I looked forward toward the lower bed in the far corner of the room.
Rash was lying there. The thin sheet he used as a blanket shifted, and his head turned toward me.
His eyes were drowsy and only half-open as he looked my way.
"Adonis? You're back?"
His voice was hazy.
But—
Somehow, the moment I heard that familiar voice and saw his face, my racing heart calmed.
The duel had been intense.
After going as far as delivering a killing blow and then being flung away by guards, I had really thought I would die.
Killing a slave because he had injured a noble seemed like the only possible outcome.
But here I was.
Breathing.
Alive.
I hadn't fully realized it myself.
Not until I saw Rash's sleepy face.
Only then did it feel real.
My heartbeat slowed, and my raging emotions settled.
Then, with light steps, I walked toward him.
"Yeah. I'm back."
Rash had already turned away again, as if my voice alone was enough. But then he asked again, a little hesitantly.
"Alive?"
My head tilted slightly as I walked.
"Yeah?"
Then he turned back toward me with a small smile.
"That's good. I almost thought you were an evil spirit haunting me in my dreams."
I halted in front of his bed and stared down at him.
My lips curved.
"Seems like you aren't fully awake yet. You even dreamed about me."
Now fully awake, he pushed down the blanket and asked.
"So, how was it?"
The night stretched on a little longer as I retold everything that had happened during the duel.
Clang.
Our swords clashed.
Rash and I used the whole arena, dueling right at its center.
A kick to my abdomen shoved me back and broke the clash of our swords.
I regained my footing and raised my sword for the next exchange when—
Thud.
Rash dropped to the ground.
My sword lowered a little as I stared at him in confusion.
He had let go of his weapon and was now lying on the cold ground. His breathing was calm, and his lips curved into a lazy smile.
He wasn't exhausted or injured.
That only confused me more.
But before I could ask anything, he lifted one hand and lazily circled it in the air, waving, before letting it fall back down.
His tired voice followed.
"Time out, Adonis."
I lowered my sword at his words and tilted my head.
"Time out?"
He barely lifted his head enough to look at me.
"Yeah. Time out. We've been going at it for hours."
Not understanding, I asked, "Yeah, and?"
As if my question had offended him, Rash pushed himself halfway up and looked at me with disgust.
"And?!"
He turned his head left and right as if searching for someone.
"Wow. Am I the only one hearing this maniac speak?"
Then, as if giving up, he let out a long sigh.
"Adonis, you should live a little more."
My head tilted even further.
He let himself fall back to the ground again and patted the spot beside him with one hand.
Understanding what he meant, I hesitantly walked over and sat down.
But even that seemed wrong to him.
He sighed again.
"No. Not sitting. Lie down."
I looked at him for a moment before doing as he said and lying down as well.
The sand felt uncomfortable beneath my shirt, and I shifted slightly until I found a somewhat comfortable position.
Then came the silence.
I thought he would start talking again, but he only kept staring at the ceiling.
Since he said nothing, I decided to speak first.
"So… what now?"
Another sigh escaped him, as if somehow everything I did was wrong.
Then he muttered in annoyance,
"Wow. I really have to tell you everything."
After a pause, he answered more sharply.
"Rest."
My confusion only grew.
"Why?"
This time, Rash was quiet for a moment before speaking, his tone softened when he did.
"Adonis, training is good and all, but—"
He dragged the 'but'.
"—resting is important too. You won't always have time to rest. There's that saying, right? Fight when you must, and rest when you can."
Then he turned his head toward me.
"Do you understand?"
I stared back at him, but his words just didn't sit right with me.
"Yeah, but we aren't in a place where we can rest. We could die at any moment. Why should I waste my time and rest? I'd rather be alive and tired than dead and well-rested."
I answered with logic.
My logic.
From Rash's expression, it was obvious that he understood what I meant.
But he still continued his preaching.
"Everybody needs rest. Look around you. We're the only ones here training from early morning until evening. The others only come later. Or do you think they're better than you and you need to catch up to them? Because I don't think so."
I couldn't really answer that.
He was right.
I had been training from morning until evening every single day for months.
I was already ahead of the other teens.
The only one giving me trouble was the one lying beside me.
As if hearing my thoughts, Rash moved again. He turned his head back toward the ceiling and continued.
"If you think that training right now will decide whether you die or survive in the next fight, then you're stupid. You shouldn't stop training. But you also don't need to push yourself this hard. The things you did had already made you strong. You can rest a bit more now. If you're meant to die in the next match, then you will. If not, then not. It's that simple."
He paused.
"Lie down. Stop thinking so much and just rest."
So I did.
I loosened my shoulders, shifted until the floor felt almost comfortable, and looked forward.
There, in front of my eyes, was not the arena.
But its ceiling.
A sea of lightstones stretched above us. Their colors were the same, but the intensity of their glow differed, giving the ceiling a unique feel.
Then he spoke again, quieter.
"You had probably never spared it a single glance, right?"
I didn't answer, and there was no need to.
We both already knew.
He continued.
"Isn't it beautiful? Like a sea of shining gemstones."
A chuckle escaped him, "Not that I've ever seen real ones."
"It makes me remember the sun."
Silence settled again.
Then—
"Remember this, Adonis."
"If you rush through life, you'll miss all the things that make it worth living."
"A sea of gemstones as a ceiling."
"The cheers of the crowd when you raise your hands to them."
"The bright smiles of our group members when we survive another fight."
"The sand of the arena turning golden when it reflects the light."
"These are the little things in life you should appreciate."
Silence descended again after his last words.
It wasn't awkward.
It felt comfortable.
Just lying there on the floor and watching that sea of lightstones.
***
I lay stretched out on the ground.
Grains of sand stuck to my sweaty skin, but the coolness of it felt comfortable against my body. My head leaned back slightly, and my gaze remained fixed on the ceiling.
A sea of glittering gemstones.
I didn't know if it had been made intentionally, but the light wasn't white. It was duller, bordering on yellow.
Just like the sun.
Some stones shone brighter than others.
But all of them shone.
Looking at them made me relax.
The sun had a special meaning to me.
And even if those lightstones were only a cheap copy of it—
They still made me feel at home.
Even if it was only for a moment.
After staring long enough at the glowing tapestry, my head turned toward the person beside me.
I almost chuckled at the sight, but kept it in. Otherwise, he would probably throw another tantrum.
He wasn't lying down like me.
No.
His back was straight as he leaned against the arena wall, his head facing forward instead of upward.
He was very different from me.
I was looking up.
He was looking ahead.
I was lying down.
He was sitting upright.
But even though we were so different—
That was what I liked about him.
As I looked at him, my thoughts drifted back to the first time we had met.
It was really strange, even funny, that we had grown so close. If someone had told me back then that this would happen, I would never have believed it.
But it did.
And all it had taken was one decision on my part.
I almost laughed at the thought.
Why was it again?
Curiosity?
Familiarity?
I wasn't sure anymore.
Maybe both.
This place was full of teens. Different faces, but all wore the same expression. They came from foreign places and all ended up here the same way.
Some gave everything they had to survive another day.
They trained.
They fought.
They cried.
Some even found meaning in this place. They made friends, spent their days together, and even laughed.
As if they had forgotten about the brutality around them.
But that was also a way of living your life.
But he—
Pale skin. Black hair. Blue eyes.
My gaze drifted away from his face and toward his hands.
Then there were those shackles.
Chains around his wrists and ankles, and a collar at his throat.
He looked less like a young slave and more like a criminal meant to be made an example of.
Then there was his sword.
Plain. Unremarkable. Better than most, but still nothing special.
What drew my attention wasn't how he swung it.
It was how long he stayed.
When I arrived in the arena, he was already there.
When I left, he remained.
Every second of his day went into training.
No pauses.
No distractions.
For what?
That was what pulled me in.
Not his strength.
Not his skill.
The reason behind it.
I wanted to understand it.
Then there were his eyes.
I had seen eyes like his before.
Back in Labet.
Among the caravan kids.
Among people who learned too early what it costs to survive.
Empty eyes.
Eyes that looked as if nothing could shake them because they had already seen it all.
And the person he reminded me of the most—
Was me.
I hadn't planned to get involved.
It wasn't my problem.
I had my own problems.
But something about the way he carried himself bothered me.
It was like watching someone walk straight toward a cliff without ever looking down.
So I spoke to him.
I didn't know if it would change anything.
Maybe it wouldn't.
But ignoring it felt worse.
And somewhere along the way, something shifted.
His eyes.
They seemed—
Less empty.
He must have felt my gaze by now because he turned toward me with a questioning look.
My thoughts stopped then.
I almost chuckled before speaking.
"Adonis, what do you think about becoming famous?"
The confused look on his face after hearing my question was funny.
Yeah.
That was the reason I couldn't stop talking to him.
Seeing him like that—
Was just really funny.