The Dreadful Exchange. (67)

The silhouettes disappeared from sight, and I was left watching the conveyor belt in search of defects. The dim lighting cast long shadows, making it difficult to discern any details. The rhythmic sound of the machines filled the air, drowning out any other noise.

With each passing moment, the thread connecting me to my objectives was elongating, pulling them further away.

Everything seemed familiar, the endless stream of limbs and torsos passing by, but I couldn't shake off the feeling of desperation, knowing that I had to find a way out of this room before I lost myself to the relentless cycle of filth and decay.

[Endurance: 271.]

[Intelligence: 122.]

My points kept falling. Yet, all I could see were ribbons and workers, their faces obscured by exhaustion and resignation.

Returning back to my own body, I looked down at my hands holding the torn torso with protruding ribs. The sight was grotesque, a reminder of the horrors that surrounded me. If I stayed in this place for much longer, I knew that I would lose not only my physical well-being but also my sanity, condemned to become the Ultimate Filth like those who had succumbed to this wretched existence before me.

---

At that moment, nothing to work in my favor. It turned out that the blond was an inspector who took part in the meat tasting. His refined demeanor contrasted sharply with the absurd scene before us. Sharp teeth dug into the raw flesh, wielding a fork and knife like a true aristocrat, he was surrounded by Lower Losses and slowly, as if savoring every bite, tasted human flesh.

Amidst the disturbing scene, I managed to gather some crucial information. There were two ways to escape this place without becoming the next object of recycling:

1. If there is corruption, then there will be special privileges of dark machinations. So, once a month, one fighter came and took away the "goods" of human flesh, fresh with blood not yet clotted. As a rule, verified monsters who had Identity Cards were sent there.

2. Promotion. Yes, surprisingly, even in such a place there were similar incentives. For example, becoming an inspector's guard required strong resistance to devouring filth. Or work in the "sawing" department. There. Monsters could not be afraid to taste defective children who do not represent a quality product for the factory.

With 2 days remaining, I had to make the most of it. I consumed Restorative Elixirs and summoned Spectral Familiars relentlessly, gathering as much information as possible to plan a full and successful escape. Now, I could at least breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that I had some time on my side.

Watching the blond man indulge in his grotesque feast, I positioned myself at the very edge of the crowd, absorbing the information transmitted from the Spectral back into my consciousness. The monster assigned the duty of transportation was located in the far part of the room, and the mission was scheduled for tomorrow. I had over 20 hours to carefully plan my escape, taking into account every detail and contingency.

The Lower Losses did not need rest, their bodies enhanced by the Arena's energy. Their brain was dying, killing the primitive instincts of fatigue, sensitivity to smells or pain, the ability to regenerate and drowsiness. They were mere shells, slaves without minds, serving their designated roles as "Hardy Workers" with unwavering dedication.

Casting a cursory glance at us, the blond man spoke with a sinister smile:

"Thank you, my dear lumps of rot. With your presence, I was able to indulge in self-indulgence and enjoy a moment of respite. In my boundless generosity, I, Samuel Haiphong, grant you the privilege of resting."

The nearest monsters burst into applause, joined by the neighboring Losses, creating a cacophony of thunderous clapping.

My neighbor lost his second finger in the past hour, and as I exhaled, I scanned the room.

Hundreds of hunched figures stood in place, unable to comprehend the concept of "rest," spending more than an hour motionless. Samuel left, burning holes in my face the size of a volleyball.

I went back to watching the tape, the conveyor belt carrying its burden of broken bodies and shattered dreams.

---

There were only the two of us in the quiet and empty corridor. The oppressive silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant hum of machinery.

"Hirr, mock yuut. * I'll go instead of you*," I said, standing in front of a fat Loss with a missing lower jaw. The monster stared at me, its vacant eyes hidden behind a layer of muddy mesh.

"Glaa YUU glo? * Why do you*," it gurgled, its tongue flopping into the folds of its rotten neck. I counted the seconds until the Elixir of Suggestion, which had a short-term effect, would work.

Through the layer of muddy mesh covering its eyes, I wasn't sure of the right moment and just started repeating:

"Lo grus mui don, lo grus mui don, lo grus mui don. * You need to watch the conveyor *," I whispered, my voice barely audible in the stillness. The monster listened in prostration, clutching the handle of the cart, swinging its upper body back and forth. Soon it started repeating after me:

"Glu loos gun noo..." It turned and walked over to the other gurney, leaving me free to continue my plan of escape.

We passed each other along the dimly lit corridor, exchanging carts. The chain with the Identity Card clinked in my hand as I recalled the Spectral Familiar and continued forward. The atmosphere was heavy with the stench of decay, intensified by the sight of glass vessels lining the shelves. Each vessel contained a severed limb, suspended in yellow liquid that bubbled with trapped air. I averted my gaze from the macabre display and quickened my pace.

The time had come to set my escape plan into motion. I had already spent a significant amount on purchasing elixirs, draining my resources to their limits. Lowering my head, I passed more powerful monsters on both sides of the road. They were distinguished by the weapons they held—spears and oval shields—a clear sign of their authority and strength.

Swallowing my apprehension, I looked ahead and spotted a colossal mountain of muscles, adorned with a thick beard, sitting prominently. The monstrous figure stretched out a calloused palm and snatched the Identity Card from my hands. I tried to maintain my composure, summoning Dark Threads as a precaution. The threads rose around a nearby wooden chair, wrapping around each leg three times.

The monster studied the Identity Card—a simple iron plate with a barely noticeable Loss pattern, its lower jaw missing. Its black pupils met mine, and for a moment, the tension hung heavy in the air. Just as I was prepared to defend myself, the monster surprised me by returning the card and nodding toward the source of light in the distance.

I hastily secured the chain around my neck, and trudged forward, feeling a mix of relief and apprehension.

I navigated through the maze of the factory, constantly checking the finished card that would guide me to the outer walls and, hopefully, freedom. As I neared the exit, the blinding light of day seeped through, warming my face and giving me a glimmer of hope for what lay beyond. Maybe there would be a blue sky and the warmth of the sun, a stark contrast to the darkness and despair of the Arena.

But as my eyes adjusted to the newfound brightness, I was met with a different sight. A woman embraced a child of about seven years old, a curly-haired human cub who looked at me with apprehension, clinging to her mother's skirt. The woman's voice quivered with hope as she spoke to a silhouette in a white hoodie.

"You're going to help my boy, aren't you?" she pleaded, her words laced with desperation.

"Of course, we will help everyone in need. He will be an excellent Caretaker of the Arena. You can believe me," the man's voice sounded muffled, my hearing ruined and unable to process the rest of the conversation.

I listened in silence, feeling the weight of their exhaustion and weakness.

"My daughter is shy by nature, and I hope you will accept her just as she is," a young woman said, bringing a three-year-old girl closer to the Caretakers.

"Yes..."

They all looked exhausted and frail.

My mouth opened, but before I could say something, my attention was diverted by the sight of a living human queue. The crowd, clad in torn clothes, slowly approached the row of Caretakers in a flow-like stream. They willingly handed over their children, grandchildren, and nephews to the "Blessed Sons of the Arena." It was a gut-wrenching sight, one that stirred conflicting emotions within me.

Lost in the overwhelming scene, I suddenly heard a heart-rending scream that cut through the air:

"MONOSTR! THERE'S A MONSTER!"

"Oh no, someone managed to breach the seals!"

"Look out!"

"He'll eat us!"

"Be..."

Panic ensued as the crowd scattered feverishly through the territory. I stood there, unsure of how to react to such a situation. Before I could process what was happening, someone grabbed me from behind, their fingers wrapped tightly around my neck. I gasped for air, feeling the vague pain between my shoulder blades as I was dragged forcefully to the ground.

Wheezing and struggling to regain my bearings, I looked up to see a towering figure approaching. Pushing off the steel floor with my hands and feet, I fought against the grip on my neck, desperately trying to rise to my feet. But just as hope seemed lost, a hoarse male voice broke through the chaos, commanding the attention of the monster. The grip around my neck loosened, and I fell to my knees, gasping for air.

"What's going on here?" the newcomer demanded, his presence commanding respect. I tried to compose myself, my heart still pounding in my chest. The Caretaker who had arrived glanced at the contents of my cart, expressing his disapproval before addressing the surrounding Caretakers with cold glances. "Let him deliver the goods. I don't want to deal with The Infernal Legion. As for the Lower Loss," he paused, his gaze fixed on me, "let's wait for his return and enjoy the slow torture."

As tension hung in the air, the Caretaker approached me and effortlessly broke the chain with a swift motion. He pressed the Map against the intricate runes on the wall, opening a portal to another part of the Arena. Without hesitation, I pushed the cart through the portal, leaving behind the impending torment.

On the other side, a formidable warrior awaited me, clad in head-to-toe armor, with bone wings protruding from his back, a clear indication of his race. The portal closed behind me, sealing off any pursuit. The warrior raised his head, his gaze meeting mine. Sensing that we were alone, I tapped into my inner powers, allowing Dark Threads to emanate from my being, binding the warrior in their ethereal grasp. With a surge of energy, I shed my assumed form and revealed my true identity.

"I'm sorry, but I've come to steal your identity."

Two red lights glowed within the eye slots of the steel helmet.