Small Change

It was another day wrought with bleeding wounds filled with pain and hardship.

Larian was dragged into the bloody arena by the same headless giant guiding him by the chains attached to his collar. Larian stumbled forward, and his gaze locked onto the exposed wound of the headless creature.

The jailer lacked a brain or anything sensory organs like ears or eyes, but how does he accomplish the tasks of finding the right prisoner to send to each arena? Was it even alive?

In all theses weeks, Larian had never seen the strange creature eat or sleep. It seemed to tirelessly wonder around until it suddenly stops and move in a beeline to its destination like.

'Like someone is controlling him. A controller.'

The hints of blood red energy formed a thin string that flys into the air around them.

'Vitality and life force. Blood magic again…'

It made sense that vampires would control blood magic as its domain. Why else would the entire arena collect rivers of blood for? But what felt strange was the chimeras that inhabited some of the cages. 

They were obviously failed experiments by the current blood lord and the headless giant could be what a successful experiment was like. But what was the condition to be selected? 

There had to be a supply of fresh bodies that are used for them, so unless Larian added necromancy to the vampire's already list of abilities. There was no way they'd be able to get such strong aides to do their bidding.

While studying the headless beast, he also noticed a few more scars plastered on the skin of the silent giant from when he last saw it.

It seemed like the humanoid chimeras were part of the pool of contestants he would face in the arena as well.

'I guess fighting enemies larger than myself is going to be a main theme around here.'

Finally, the familiar rusty gate appeared in front of him. The chattering voices of the crowd washed over Larian like a tide.

"Blood! Blood! Blood!"

The gates swung open and the chain came off his collar.

Another day of pain…

He didn't know how long he'd been here but the only signs of progress Larian could get a hold of was that he was how the form he imagined in his head was slowly being engraved into his body.

He had repeated them over and over at this point and now they were being cemented through his bloody experiences.

From the other side groups of red imps with skinny wings flew in. Their strategy was chaotic and simple. Or there was no strategy at all, they flew in a beeline towards Larian and he cut them down.

Bathed in the bloodbath of so many opponents, how could his sword style not improve? As Larian swung again and again, his strikes became swifter and direct. Doing the same thing over and over, how could he not tone out the flaws if his muscles would feel the searing pain of each mistake?

First, it was imps. Then he faced other humans and various monsters that almost doubled his size.

Lost in a trance, Larian kept fighting day after day.

From how frequently he was being woken up after every attempt, he was sure he was fighting multiple times a day. Now he understood how the contestants lost track of time.

But he kept going.

One of the days where he did particularly well, he finally got an invitation.

"What a pleasant surprise, we thought you were a one hit wonder. Who'd have thought you would show such splendid improvement in the shows? You are a natural."

Larian couldn't help but feel a sense of indignation rising up from within him. He placed his bloody hands on Butler's shoulder.

"Don't lump everything I endured as talent. You have no idea how much I went through to make it here. "

But Jeeves didn't frown from getting his clothes stained, instead, he smiled warmly at Larian.

"Splendid. Putting on a good show must have been tiring, no? Follow me, an esteemed guest has extended his invitation to you. It would do your soul well to rest in his lounge.

Larian blinked for a moment before finally ignoring the remarks.

Shows and entertainment. These vampires understanding was entirely different from Larian's.

Larian had spent a long time observing the spectators and had some understanding of their worldview.

They believe blood is a puppet of theatre that should be shed to its fullest extent. It was twisted and cruel to the contestants, but surprisingly they viewed their own with such a lens as well.

Occasionally Vampire prisoners would be sent in. And they remained joyful and excited when their own friends and family shed their mortal blood.

As long as blood was spilled in the theatre, it would be the most entertaining show in the world. That was why Larian didn't speak to Jeeves despite his manners and bearings.

They were two entirely different animals.

Guided to a room numbered '631' Larian entered. 

Inside was a man with curly white hair. His red eyes were undeniably cold and expressionless.

'Another silent type. I guess it doesn't matter, let's get this over and done with.'

These few days Larian would find the arena silent and desolate.

Besides the rare few like Migel and Mad Doe, it was almost as if those who spoke were trying to keep themselves sane in this hellhole.

But what about the rest of the human contestants who lost their voices?

Had everyone else already lost their minds?

Larian wasn't sure, but he knew there were definitely numerous humans who had simply chosen not to speak out.

The vampire was quick with his meal. Biting into Larian's neck, the numbing sensation flowed from his neck down.

Until finally the fangs peeled off.

"I'm done, you can go now."

Larian was slightly confused. The invitation this time was shorter and the amount of blood he lost was much lower.

'Did it not work?'

Slightly nervous that this session ended in a failure Larian decided to confirm it.

"Can I get my belongings from before I was captured?"

The white-haired man simply nodded his he which caused Larian to blink dumbly.

'Really? This was it? It was too easy...'

Exiting the room with reasonable doubt, Larian was guided back by Jeeves. 

He then followed the headless giant deeper into the dark dungeons where he was put into a cage different from the last.

There he found the familiar red armour as well as the katana Shiro had passed down to him.

'So he wasn't lying to me.'

Recalling the amount the lady from room 204 had drunk from him that nearly killed him, Larian thought he was worrying too much.

Feeling the grip of the katana with his hands, he rubbed its surface.  Staring at the silver elegant sword, its blade showed a person their reflection if only they weren't in absolute darkness. Larian now felt that the blade was not so simple.

'But I finally got them back, that's all that matters.'

Laying sighed in relief as he wore the armor and strapped the weapon on.