Chapter 10: What I Have Forgotten

I had forgotten about the time, or more precisely, I chose to forget about the time. After all, counting the date and hour was meaningless if everything stayed stagnant at this stage. I awoke, washed my savana uniform and underwear, ate breakfast, did some training, ate lunch, washed myself, prayed, occasionally assisted Bjorj with moving things, and went to bed. An hour just went by, and eventually the day had ended, not long after I realize it's been a week. It's itching me. I spend my days being unproductive, doing menial work that dulls my wit.

It was a blunder on my part, brought on by my own personal bias. Away from my own homeland, where I was forced to take a boring job for the promise of gold in some undeveloped country filled with diseases, man-eating tribes, and savage animals, all of the activities I did back then were mentally taxing to the point where my mind was trained really well that eventually I hardly ever found anything that challenge my mental prowess. My fault lies in thinking that my mental strength will never falter even in the face of the most complicated problem. Yeah, I was partially right, but in fact it was the reverse. Thinking back, my mentor told me to give the slave only simple taxing tasks, even though I argued back then that giving them complicated tasks would undoubtedly increase the production number. He dismissed my idea as foolish back then, and I spent the majority of my life thinking about his strange attitude, which at least I finally understood. The purpose of the Colosseum, like the slaves back then, was to produce weak willed people who would follow any of the benefactors' whims. Now it made sense why the design in this forsaken place was built in such a specific way, and why, even though there was free facility and food, all of it was of such poor quality that even food you could pick up from a trash bin would feel like gourment meal, all of it was all to make me accept my condition as a subhuman.

With that line of thought, assuming this Colosseum design, workflow, and fighter treatment were also decided by the benefactor and not an unknown third party, it would not be out of reach for me to think that the benefactor would also have the right to not only decide the math fighting order but also the match fighting result. Don Westel, the winner of the bid among the benefactors, had a high probability of being the richest benefactor. Even if I am a popular winner candidate since I was chosen to represent the Astarte family t, Don Westel could use his influence to sway the whole Colosseum into rigging my match. This was bad; me waiting without doing anything would just turn me into another disposable pawn on Don Westel's chessboard.

This was a tricky situation. I came here with only the cutlass and no other weapon because I believed this was God's ordeal that I had to overcome. I thought it was only an honest face-to-face fight, which was why I could accept the offer heartily, but a rigged match — how should I interpret this trial God had given me? Should I choose to do nothing and believe that God would help me even in the impossible fight, or should I ignore that altogether and find a way to circumvent the certain rigged fight? There was also a third option where I could ran away from this Colosseum and swallow my pride, it's not a cowardice action but a tactical temporary retreat. There were those three options still something did not feel right.

No, it's no use staying in this Colosseum no... even staying in this city any longer, Don Westel with his monetary power would make my life a living hell if I did not exile myself. Logically speaking me erasing my presence from society should solve the problem, still was that really the best solution? I resigned myself, I tried to find relaxation by sitting with cross leg position with my back leanings against the wall. Trying to find a rational solution to the obscure problem of uncertain future, maybe this was that the philosopher and scientist back then felt, an immense burden on their mind that would plague them even in their sleep.

Maybe it was because I was too comfortable leaning against the wall or maybe it was because I was too stressed out, I took a deep sleep. It was really reckless as sleeping completely means that anyone could attack you while you were defenseless, if I was asked if I regret that action then I would say no. For in my slumber I've found a piece of wisdom. I woke up with smiling face, my mouth couldn't contain my voice. "Wahahahhahah! Hyahahahah! Hahahah!" I laugh at my folly. Some of those fighters looked at me with a strange expression, heh, that's fine; just for today, this jester action should be rightfully laughed at. What am I thinking, accepting my fate and expecting God to intervene in this situation? Running away because it was the most rational thing to do? That line of thinking was from from the premise. Yes, according to Dorothy I was able to use magic because I was choosen as God's champion, but why? Was it because of my character or my trait? Whatever it is, the action of choosing also implied that whoever this God was choose me as their champion must had some fondness to me and it would not be absurd to think this God would share my characteristics. That's it, eh? So easy, yet I only thought about it now.

Unlike in my world, if this new God I truly worship shared my characteristics, I wouldn't have to be morally correct or expect a fair action. What I need to do from this point on was to go wild, exhausting all of my knowledge and strength for the sake of my goal, free of the constraints of my previous world morals.

Just as I thought about that, Bjorj came in to check on us (especially me), which was perfect timing for me. Oh, God, if you are entertained by my performance, then watch as I would turn this Colosseum into burning cinders with my next move.