1 Chapter 1: Her

The stench of blood permeates through the air, as the cries of agony bounce off the flaking brick wall. I can feel my body tremble in fear, imagining that soon it will be me who will be standing in that arena. I clenched my fist tightly, ignoring the stinging pain from the back of my hand. I blankly looked around at the other prisoners with me—my eyes roaming slowly over the sorry figures seemingly scared out of their wits crouched down on the floor — the room we are in reeks of decay and excrement, with puddles of piss and blood laying stagnantly on the ground. However, the rattling pressure of imminent death shackles us down too greatly for us to care about the filth. Our eyes misted with fogginess and tears, and yet this room remains oddly silent. No whimpering sob, nor angry yell—just silence. I supposed it makes sense. Afterall no begging and pleading will save us this time.

The sound of battle from beyond the iron gate intensifies, as the heartless jeering and the screams of pain meld together into a loud, piercing screech. A man roars before the sound of clashing steel finally stopped. The cheering grew louder and louder until the clattering sound of bones being crushed echoed through the fighting pit. The screaming audience guffawed jovially over and over again as the system announces the winner of the match.

"Congratulations to 3275 for winning the third streak of the day!" The loud voice declares, "As a reward, 3275 will be withdrawn from the arena for two days and be provided with a single vial of replenishing crystal. As to those who bet on this match's winner—you will have free access to the lower floor services for 6 hours starting tonight. Thank you for your participation in the rank!"

The blonde girl sitting on the corner of the room started shaking hard, her knees jangling loudly as pushes herself more into the corner. I can't help but sigh in sympathy. Her shoulder branding shows 3425, the lowest number among all of us.

Sure enough, the creaking gate slammed open as two men in steel armour rushed into the room. They glared and cursed at us before roughly pulling the rusty chain attached to the girl's ankle and dragging her outside. As soon as they pulled her up from the floor, the temperature in the room plummeted into an uncomfortable degree as she opened her mouth to scream. She tried to break free from the harsh hold of the guards, only to be promptly slapped across the face and forced to wear a metal collar with foreign letters engraved. The temperature then returned to normal as the blonde girl weakens in the man's arm, her body limply leaning against his frame.

I can feel my heart beating in anger as her thundering cries slowly eased down into heartbreaking sniffling. I wanted to stand to help her, but my body no longer responds to my instructions— too tired to even make the slightest movement. I tried leaning towards the middle of the room, but the scabbing wound on my chest throbbed hotly before a stabbing pain showered me. I gritted my teeth, wanting to yell at the monsters robbing us our lives and forcing us to hurt in silence, but my voice did not come out. Images of the corpses of my friends and the sensation of unending torture immediately assaulted my mind, reminding me of the consequences of my defiance.

Soon the girl was dragged away into the arena, and the announcement of the following duel commences. Shortly after her departure, an unrecognizable wailing started as sounds of whipping resonates within the pit. The battle did not last as long as the one before, but it was not possible to say that it wasn't as cruel. With the deafening applause booming from beyond the gate, the two guards once again entered. But this time, escorting a young woman into the room.

She looked wrong, almost as if she could not possibly exist in this world. Her long black hair sways behind her back, as her white dress ruffles neatly against her knees. Too clean, too pure—she looks out of place inside the filthy confines of the room. I took note of her calm demeanour and the respectful distance the guards are keeping from her. If one did not know what the arena is, you would think that she's not a prisoner of war.

She kept her head low, staring timidly on the ground. The guards whispered something to her before turning around and leaving the room. Questions filled my head as she trod carefully and sat down next to the barred window, her hands hugging the knees drawn up into her chest. I didn't know who she is, or why she's in here with us—however, my questions ended up stuck in my mouth as I finally looked up and seen her fully.

Even though not restrained by chains—this girl has multiple metal collars on her: one on her neck, two on both wrists, and two on her ankles. With this amount of precaution taken against someone—it's not possible for her to be simple. I was about to talk to her when she then turned her head to the side, looking through the window and out into the arena, ignoring the existence of the four other people in the room.

My body trembled even more as shivers crawled up and down my spine as soon her neck branding peeked out from the soft collar of her dress.

000

The reaper's number.