Chapter 60: Hell Slaughter Arena

The moment I stepped through the gates of Slaughter City, the oppressive atmosphere struck me like a physical blow. Bloodlust was everywhre. The faint, acrid scent of blood lingered, mixing with the stench of unwashed bodies and decay. Before me stood a woman, her figure lit faintly by the flickering torches lining the walls.

"This is the first time Slaughter City has someone as young as you," she said, her tone dripping with mockery. "What are you, ten? Eleven?"

I didn't answer, my gaze locked onto hers. I had recently turned ten, but she didn't need to know that. My silence seemed to irritate her, and she clicked her tongue.

"Poor young soul," she said in a voice that might have sounded pitying if her expression didn't betray her amusement.

Her lips curled into a smirk as she stepped closer. "I'm your guide," she said. "You can ask me about anything you don't understand. Within twenty-four hours, I will answer all your questions. After that, you'll be on your own. This is the place where you'll live, and you'll formally become a Slaughter City citizen."

She started walking, gesturing for me to follow. Her voice echoed in the desolate streets as she began her explanation. "This is the outer city. Here, you can find anything you need: food, weapons, information. But nothing comes free. Blood is the currency here, two cups of Bloody Mary every month, and you'll have the Slaughter King's protection. Fail to pay, and you're fair game."

As we walked, she pointed out various landmarks, grimy inns, shadowy alleyways, and establishments offering everything from illicit goods to deadly services. Every face I saw was hardened, every movement sharp and predatory. Yet, none of it or what this guide was saying surprised me.

The woman seemed to notice. "You already know all this, don't you?" she said, her voice laced with curiosity. "How interesting."

I gave her no response, which only seemed to frustrate her further. Finally, I broke my silence. "Bring me to the inner city, to the Hell Slaughter Arena."

She arched an eyebrow but smiled. "As you please," she said, her voice dripping with amusement.

The inner city was chaos incarnate. If the outer city was a cesspool, the inner city was a war zone. Criminals roamed freely, indulging in every depravity imaginable. There was no semblance of order here. People fought openly in the streets, their screams blending with the constant hum of malicious laughter and the occasional sound of breaking bones.

A man was dragged through the street by his hair, his body bloodied and broken. Two others laughed as they tossed knives at a third, who was tied to a post, his face contorted in pain. The very air seemed alive with cruelty and malice, a tangible force that pressed down on anyone who dared enter. The weak were devoured, quite literally in some cases, and the strong reveled in their dominance.

But none of this affected me. My expression remained calm, almost detached, as if I were merely observing a scene from afar. The woman guiding me took note, her eyes glinting with something between respect and suspicion.

"Most first-timers can't handle this," she said. "But you… you're different."

I didn't respond. There was no need to. My focus was on the path ahead, the towering structure that dominated the inner city, the Hell Slaughter Arena.

The Arena loomed before us, a massive, circular structure made of dark stone. Its walls were stained with centuries of blood, and the ground around it was littered with broken weapons and bones. The air here was even heavier, thick with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid scent of death.

"Welcome to the Hell Slaughter Arena," the woman said with a flourish. "This is where you earn your place in Slaughter City. Every citizen here has fought in this arena, spilling blood to prove their worth, each fight you win gives you one more year in this paradise."

She led me inside, the interior even darker and more oppressive than the city streets. The air was thick with anticipation, the roar of the crowd echoing through the stone halls. The arena floor was visible from the entrance, a blood-soaked battleground illuminated by little lights. The stands were packed with spectators, their faces twisted with bloodlust as they cheered for the carnage below.

"You can watch the matches by paying with one Bloody Mary daily," the woman said, her tone almost teasing. "It doesn't have to be your own blood."

"I don't care about watching matches," I replied flatly. "I want to participate."

She laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed through the halls. "You? Participate? You've got guts, kid. I'll give you that."

Ignoring her mocking tone, I handed over my ID tile. The woman took it, her amusement fading as she registered the number. "9111," she muttered, her expression shifting to something unreadable. "Interesting. Very interesting."

She led me to a darkened chamber where a grizzled man sat behind a stone desk, his face a mask of scars and shadows. He glanced at my ID, then at me, his eyes narrowing. "You're registered," he said curtly. "Your match will be announced soon."

I nodded, stepping back as the woman handed me a small, blood-red token. "This is your entry pass," she said. "Don't lose it."

Taking the token, I moved to the waiting area. The sound of the crowd grew louder, their bloodthirsty cheers echoing through the stone walls. I sat on a cold, hard bench, my mind focused, my body calm.

The Hell Slaughter Arena was a place of death and despair, a battleground where only the strongest survived. But to me, the bloodshed, the violence, the chaos, it didn't scare me. It excited me.

I tightened my grip on the token, a faint smile playing on my lips. Let the games begin.