My back rested against the soft leather of the chair.
One of my hands lay on the armrest while the other drummed slowly against the wooden desk before me.
My gaze wandered across the office, but couldn't focus on anything.
In my mind, the same scene replayed.
Again.
And again.
A young boy.
Shackles weighed down his limbs as he kneeled in the sand.
His clothes were torn and tattered. Cuts and bruises decorated his body like accessories.
He should have looked broken.
But he didn't.
His chin was raised up.
And his eyes—
They were looking forward.
On the beast before him.
A young rock drake towered over the boy.
Each step brought it closer, making the sand tremble under its weight.
But the boy?
He tightened his grip on the sword and pushed himself off the ground.
He stood.
And raised his sword.
That image refused to leave my mind.
A shackled slave standing before a rock drake—an apex predator that could crush him without effort.
And then—
He ran.
Without hesitation.
Toward the mighty rock drake.
He sprinted forward and launched himself into the air as though size and distance were meaningless.
His sword was pulled back over his shoulder and descended in a wide arc toward the beast.
It was an ordinary sword.
One that shouldn't have even scratched the drake's scales.
And yet—
Mid-swing, it happened.
The boy's skin began to glow.
A faint red shimmer surrounded him.
It turned brighter, thicker.
And from his hand it poured out.
Crimson mana enveloped the sword, flowing from grip to hilt, from hilt to tip, until the whole sword was engulfed in an ethereal light.
Then—
Like a falling star—
The blade descended.
The drake's scales split as he cut into flesh.
Even now, remembering it—
My heart raced.
Reaching the fourth stage was nothing unheard of. Weapon envelopment existed. Many eventually awakened it.
But this?
Breaking through a stage barrier in the middle of a certain defeat?
That was different.
I had never seen it.
Never heard of it.
It was almost as if Althessa herself had placed her hand upon the boy's back.
I had not accounted for this.
My plan to dispose of the slave quietly had unraveled in front of thousands.
And yet—
There was no anger.
Only disbelief.
No one had expected him to win.
The odds had been absolute.
And still—
He had won.
And the crowd...
They loved it.
The profit from that single fight could fund the next Blooding entirely.
A low chuckle escaped me at the thought.
Still—
Something else lingered.
A discomfort I couldn't dismiss, no matter how often I replayed the fight.
Not the drake.
Not the stage breakthrough.
The boy.
Then the memory resurfaced.
A report.
One I had received not long ago.
From a guard about this very same boy.
He had reached the third stage.
That was when it clicked.
The discomfort I felt.
My hand stopped drumming across the desk.
Slowly, I turned in my chair toward the shelf behind me.
A drawer slid open.
Inside lay a leather folder.
It was once thick, filled with documents.
Now reduced to a single paper.
A sight I had grown accustomed to over the last year.
My hand reached out, and I opened the leather folder, taking the remaining paper out.
Without reading it yet, I turned back to the desk.
With one clean motion, I swept the other documents aside and placed the paper down on the desk.
Then I read.
Line after line.
Carefully.
Then I paused.
The dates.
The age.
They did not align.
I read it again.
Nothing changed.
The numbers stayed the same.
I read it a third time.
[First Blooding]
[Number: 29]
[Gender: Male]
[Age: 13]
[Core: 2nd Stage]
[Date: 24th Lunar, 716]
Still the same.
The arrival date was the 24th of Lunar, 716.
He is thirteen years old.
Slowly, I reached into my coat and pulled out my holo. Mana flowed into it, and a translucent display appeared.
My eyes ignored everything except for one detail.
[717]
The current year.
Which meant—
The boy should be around the age of fifteen.
"Fifteen."
The word left my lips quietly.
Fifteen years old and—
Fourth stage.
My mind raced.
That was when—
Knock.
The sound pulled me out of my thoughts, and I placed the paper back on the desk.
"Enter."
The door opened, and the head guard stepped inside.
The dragonkin closed the door and stood at attention.
I ordered.
"Speak."
Only then did he move, pulling folded papers from his coat before speaking.
"Master John. The investigation is complete. It turned out much more diff—"
I cut him off, extending my hand.
"Give it to me."
He moved at once, stepping forward, and placed the papers in my hand.
I spoke without sparing him another glance.
"Leave."
The guard left without a word, closing the door behind him.
Click.
I unfolded the report.
Line after line passed beneath my eyes.
The further I read, the slower my breathing became.
My eyes widened the more I read.
I finished the three papers faster than I expected.
Not believing what stood there, I read them again.
Perhaps I had missed something.
Line after line.
Page after page.
But the words stayed the same.
When I finished, I placed the papers down on the desk beside the other document.
My gaze lingered on them as my mind began to work.
A noble.
Albeit a fallen one.
That was something I would have never believed—never even guessed.
That same boy.
The one wearing rags as clothes, torn and ripped. Whose body was covered in blood as he survived the arena for more than a year.
That boy was a noble?
The thought didn't sit right with me.
And yet—
When I thought back…
His gaze.
The defiance in his eyes.
His straight, unbending back.
It reminded me of a proud noble.
And not just a minor one.
This wasn't some small house.
It was an influential one.
From the human Empire—Elandor.
Not some backwater kingdom.
The son of a marquis.
That realization irritated me more than it surprised me.
Then came the next part of the report.
The reason why he was no longer a noble.
A criminal charge.
I glanced at the other paper and checked the age again.
Thirteen.
That was when he arrived here.
Also, his birthday.
Which meant—
He was twelve at the time of the trial.
That was what irritated me the most.
Politics was nothing new to me. But even I struggled to understand this.
A twelve-year-old noble son sentenced to slavery for rape?
Too many things didn't align.
His status.
His age.
The crime itself.
And finally—
The trial.
The sentence.
None of it sat right with me.
My instincts told me that something else had been moving behind the scenes.
But—
That wasn't my problem.
I was curious.
Of course I was.
Anyone would be.
But curiosity didn't change the facts.
In the end, the boy had been legally sold from one group to another before arriving here.
Ownership was clear.
He belonged to me.
My finger drummed softly against the desk as my thoughts continued.
This entire story—
It was inconvenient.
The boy himself was inconvenient.
And yet, that inconvenience made him even more interesting.
First, there was the Vakaris family.
They were still waiting for me to deliver the boy. And it wouldn't take long before they acted if I delayed further.
Then there was the human Empire.
Elandor shouldn't be an immediate issue. The boy had already been cast out and was sold legally.
And still—
The whole thing stank.
I couldn't shake the feeling that they, too, could become a problem later.
Two political risks.
Two solid reasons to dispose of him.
That was my political side speaking.
But the other side of me—
The one who had built this colosseum into what it was—
Focused on something else entirely.
His birthday.
The 24th of Lunar.
He turned thirteen upon arrival in the year 716.
Now it was 717.
Which meant—
This Lunar, he had turned fourteen.
My eyes widened.
Now I was shocked.
Not irritated.
Not merely surprised.
Genuinely baffled.
Because if these numbers were correct—
Then I was looking at something that should not exist.
Something that shouldn't happen.
There were stories.
Rumors about people who achieved the same.
But nothing was ever confirmed.
And yet—
Here he was.
A fourteen-year-old boy who had reached the fourth stage on the Path of Mana.
Information like that would make even the proudest families move.
That level of talent no longer belonged to the word genius.
It surpassed it.
He was made for this.
And that—
That was the real reason this situation troubled me.
The political pressure wasn't overwhelming yet. But it could become so at any moment. Enough to hinder my business.
At the same time—
I possessed a boy with extraordinary potential.
The thought almost made me chuckle.
How much had I paid for him again?
Around a hundred Fortis.
What a ridiculous price for someone like this.
That was the problem.
I wanted to keep him.
His value would multiply in the future.
But keeping him meant trouble.
And disposing of him meant waste.
My thoughts ran through scenario after scenario.
Then—
Click.
Something aligned.
The answer was simple. Elegant, even.
It resolved both issues at once.
The Vakaris family could not pressure me. Because I would give them what they wanted—
Just not in the manner they expected.
And the boy?
He would not lose his value.
Because I wouldn't decide his fate.
I would let him decide.
My lips curved faintly behind the mask.
It was amusing.
The boy would choose his own life—
Without ever realizing it.
I activated my holo and sent a short message.
Moments later, the head guard entered again, as if he had been waiting outside all along.
He stood straight, silent.
I reviewed the plan one last time.
There were no flaws.
I spoke calmly.
"Bring me the list of all Greater Beasts we currently hold."
The guard hesitated for a fraction of a second, then bowed.
"Yes, Master John."
Click.
The door closed once more.
I leaned back in my chair, gaze settling on the papers spread across the desk.
The boy would do what he had always done.
Fight and survive.
Or—
Die and dispose of himself.
Simple.
Efficient.
And—
My gaze drifted toward the report.
"The crowd loves good stories."