Preparations

…Floor 3 cafeteria, lunchtime…

"Hey now, who do we have here?", a well built man, walked up to the table of newbies who had just arrived. "Some new faces… I'm sure we're going to have a good time together".

His snarky and narcissistic attitude did not fit one who didn't even own his own life.

"Can you please just let me eat in peace?"

"Who's this punk that insults the boss?", a nasally, high-pitched voice rang out from a shorter man stood behind the 'leader'.

"Ergh, your face is gross, are those burn scars?", another one to his right inputed his opinions.

"And why would I be afraid of this so called 'boss'".

"Y-you slave".

"Are you not one yourself?".

"Grrr, why I oughta~", he seemed to be winding up a punch.

"Calm down bubby, it doesn't look good on me when you act like such a buffoon".

"You're right, our boss is… elegant~ 🎶".

"Bum bum bum bum", the whole room shook as the slaves sat on other tables hummed a musical number, while others stomped their feet on the ground to the melody.

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I'd like to return to bed before my sleep is ruined by you weirdos", the humming stopped as if a record had screeched off beat.

"You don't seem to know what position you're in, see… we have a way of doing things here. Nothing personal", he shrugged as if he had no choice, but the smirk on his face betrayed this show of helplessness.

"Hehe", the two behind chuckled as the rest of the room looked at one person.

"You can at least tell us your name before we pummel you into the ground".

A swift kick came from under the table. The next second, the 'Boss' was knocked off balance.

"Eh?".

Bham, his head hit the corner of the table.

The next moment, an arm grabbed one of the short guys by the collar, throwing him toward the other.

In their moment of confusion, a kick followed the throw. The two fell to the ground. The elbow of one, nailing the jaw of another.

By this point, the rest of the room erupted into a frenzy. Man after man, punch after punch, kick after kick. Every second a new man was laid to the floor, unconscious. Who would think that a single man would be able to take out this many.

A mountain of them stacked over each other by the end of the brawl.

While the only man who had been left—still standing—sat atop with only a few bruises, some cuts, and a black eye.

"Ben Gordam, don't mess with me again—I'll pummel you into the ground".

- - - - -

Left unbeknownst to the battlefield that was floor 3, I continued to learn under Agaroth. We had also come up with a few strategies for the opening rounds of the tournament.

We couldn't talk about qualifying if we weren't even able to act as a team.

And through the lengthy discussions, a certain question had popped into my mind, one that had bothered me for a while, "If there are only four of you guys, how did you compete before me".

"They died", Freya came up from behind me.

"How?".

"We simply couldn't work well enough together, the enemies were too strong, there is only so much you can do alone".

The rounds were structured in a 5v5 setting, each player would possess 1 flag tied around their waist. The objective was to capture every flag you could before the time ran out. The means by which you did this did not matter. Kill, steal, or threaten, it did not matter.

"I had to give up our flags so the others could survive, though I'm sure if I had continued to fight, I'd be dead like the other guy".

Whenever I wasn't honing my sword skills, I was either in the gym with Agaroth or training joint combat with the others.

- - - - -

…2 days after Ford was captured…

"You were meant to protect him, I gave you one job, one fucking job".

"Protect him? I'm not his father, he's not some child who needs my protection".

"He is some child, he's stupid, rowdy, careless… he's been the same kid since the day I met him".

"Maybe the reason he doesn't change is because you have such little faith in him".

"Stop diverting the conversation!".

…

"You said he was captured? By who?".

"I didn't get their names, but it was some short stubby guy, patchy beard. He seemed to be the boss at least. The four guys who knocked me out were just some henchmen".

"…Dammit!".

"Scott, calm down, we'll find him".

"Right, they were chasing down a slave, they mentioned that when walking away".

"Slave? Were they slave traders?".

"Sam, get me any information on slave traders. Issola, come with me".

- - - - -

…Present time…

It was finally the day of the first match. I thought they were going to be much gentler with me than last time, but I was wrong. A potato sack was pulled over me, and I got thrown into the carriage.

The cage on wheels shook back and forth, just as it had did when I came here. But it seemed that my stomach had steeled itself. No longer would I be at the mercy of horrible motion-sickness.

"Blerghhhh".

"Let it out, let it out", Agaroth pat my back as he consoled me.

"Blerghhhh", it seemed I wasn't the only one throwing up at this moment.

Freya was barfing up a storm to the right of me, also being pat on the back by Agaroth.

"It wasn't this bad last time".

Viktor was laying flat on the wooden surface, as if he were trying to spread the motion evenly. He still looked like he was gonna fade out of existence every second instance, but he was doing wayy better than the two of us.

Karaf was sat quietly in the back. He seemed just as unaffected as Agaroth. Maybe I could be like him one day.

"Blerghhhh", today was not that day.