The guard opened the door.
"Enter."
The teens spilled into the cell in a slow, hesitant line.
I counted them without thinking.
Fifteen.
They looked disheveled and worn out. Clothes stained and eyes dulled.
Not much different from me.
But my eyes drifted back to the guard.
A dragonkin.
I wasn't in my right mind the first time I saw one. But now—now I was calm enough to let curiosity through.
He looked human at first glance.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Pale skin. Black hair cut short.
Then my gaze shifted.
Small black horns protruded from his forehead.
They weren't big, but enough to make him seem otherworldly.
As he spoke, I caught a glimpse of his teeth.
Small canines, slightly sharper than a human's.
Not enough to call them fangs.
But enough to remind me—
That he wasn't human.
And then came his presence.
I didn't know if it was his strength or something inherent to a dragonkin, but it felt like something pressed down on the room the moment he stepped inside.
Like an invisible weight settling onto our shoulders.
The air itself seemed heavier.
He didn't do anything.
As if it were simply his natural aura.
That made it worse.
The difference between him and a human was small in appearance, but huge in feeling.
I swallowed.
It wasn't that I didn't believe it, but that I couldn't.
So much had happened all at once.
The memories.
The torture.
The ship.
The march.
It all felt distant. Like a long nightmare, I had watched instead of lived.
But now—
Now that I saw the dragonkin again, after regaining some sense of sanity.
I realized.
It wasn't a nightmare.
And not a dream.
Everything had really happened.
I was reborn.
And—
I am really in another world.
Another humanoid race besides humans.
And dragonkins weren't the only ones.
There were more.
Many more.
I had already seen some of them.
Elves.
Dwarves.
Beastkin.
If I counted humans and dragonkin too, that made it five.
Five of the dominant humanoid races I had seen with my own eyes.
I had only heard stories about them.
Whispers.
Rumors.
The fourteen Dominant Races.
They ruled over the fifteen continents of this world.
But that didn't mean only fourteen humanoid races existed.
There were even more—less powerful, smaller in numbers—but they existed.
Humanoid—but not dominant.
Thud.
The door closed, snapping me out of my thoughts.
My eyes stayed fixed on the place where the guard had stood, only realizing he was gone when the sound echoed through the cell.
I turned my attention back to the teens he had brought inside.
They had already moved.
Some walked toward the beds and collapsed immediately, resting. Others hovered near the table, unsure, as if they were waiting for someone to tell them what to do.
Nobody spoke.
Silence wrapped around the cell.
I observed them.
Their eyes were hollow as if they had lost more than their freedom.
Some had dried tears on their cheeks. Others stared without blinking.
What caught my attention the most—
They weren't injured.
Their hands were clean of blood, and no bruises covered their knuckles.
Some had bloodstains on their clothes, but not in the same way I had them.
That confirmed it.
They didn't fight yesterday.
Which meant—
That not everyone who arrived with me had been thrown into the arena.
My guess had been right.
The colosseum.
They weren't going to keep doing death matches every day.
Or at least—not for everyone.
And—
Soon, the matches would stop.
Or change.
The thought eased something inside me.
Just slightly.
But enough to lift one weight from my shoulders.
Still, I couldn't let that relief linger.
There was no time to rest.
I didn't know when I would have to fight again.
I had to be ready.
Enough rest.
My headache had lessened, and my mind felt clearer.
I could start again.
Mana.
I needed to become familiar with it.
Because it was the only thing that could keep me alive.
I closed my eyes and guided the warmth from my core toward my right hand.
Warmth spread into my palm and fingers.
I clenched and unclenched my fist.
Held it.
Then—
It dispersed.
I started again.
And again.
Each time it lasted a little longer.
Each time it felt a little easier.
Time passed.
Then—
Click.
The door opened again.
I stopped my training and lifted my head.
Two guards entered.
One carried a crate. The other a barrel.
They placed the crate on the table and the barrel beside it without a word, then turned and left.
Thud.
The door closed.
The teens stared hesitantly at the crate and barrel, unsure whether to approach it or not.
I climbed down from the bed.
Step.
My stomach growled as I walked toward the table.
I was hungry.
The training hadn't required much movement, but it drained me in a different way.
I needed food.
Creak.
The crate held the same things as yesterday.
Bread and meat.
The bread wasn't hard.
The meat tasted like meat.
I filled my cup from the barrel.
The water didn't smell like salt.
That was enough.
I took my portion and climbed back onto the bed.
The other teens moved as soon as I was done.
The first ones were hesitant while taking their food, the next ones weren't.
I sat on the edge of the bed and ate while watching them.
The food vanished faster than I expected. I was hungrier than I had thought. When my stomach still growled afterward, I glanced at the crate.
Empty.
There was nothing left.
No extra food.
A soft voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Do you want some?"
I turned my head toward the voice, eyes lowering.
A small figure stood below the bed.
A girl.
She was small. Tiny even. Not much older than me. Black hair tied back with a strip of cloth. Brown eyes far too tired for a child.
She wore the same black clothes as the others.
The number stitched to her chest was 30.
Her outstretched arm held a piece of bread.
I hesitated.
My gaze stayed on the bread, then shifted to her face.
She was thin.
Too thin.
Her cheeks were slightly hollow.
And yet she offered me food as if it were nothing.
I pointed at the bread in her hand.
"Won't you eat it?"
She shook her head and forced a tired smile.
"No… I'm not hungry. But you look like you are."
I studied her for a moment, thinking.
Then nodded and took the bread.
"Thank you."
She smiled again.
"You're welcome."
Then she crouched and slipped back onto the bed beneath me.
I watched her vanish before shifting my gaze to the bread in my hand.
The bread disappeared in seconds.
It didn't fill me, but it helped.
I paused my training after the meal. The headache had returned, and I needed a break.
Still, the pressure of an incoming battle wouldn't leave me alone.
I decided to change my approach. Instead of enhancing my entire hand, I focused mana into a single finger.
When the mana dispersed, I moved to the next finger.
The strain on my mind was much lighter this way, and I could still train my control.
As I practiced, my gaze drifted across the cell.
It stopped on the bunk bed opposite me.
A girl knelt on the upper bed, her back turned to me. Her hand moved across the stone wall.
She was drawing something.
Then she whispered.
"Goddess… protect me…"
Her voice was barely audible.
My eyes slid away from her and to another bed.
A boy lay curled on it, knees drawn to his chest.
He was sobbing quietly, shoulders trembling.
"Sniff… mom…"
The others mostly stared blankly.
Some looked at nothing.
Some looked at the ceiling.
But all wore the same expression.
One filled with despair.
And everyone was fighting it in their own way.
I was no different.
I looked down at my hand again.
Mana flowed into my fingers, one by one.
It felt easier now.
More natural.
Not effortless.
But familiar.
Then—
Click.
The door opened again.
A guard stood in the corridor, holding a faintly glowing metal sphere.
He glanced at it and spoke.
"11, 4, and 29! Step forward!"
My chest tightened at the last number.
My number.
I let the mana disperse and climbed down.
Step.
My steps were steady, even though something inside me screamed to run.
Two boys moved too, climbing out of their beds with shaking legs.
They looked nervous and scared.
Step.
The guard stepped aside and waved his hand impatiently.
"Come on. Move!"
11 and 4 hurried out of the cell.
I kept my pace the same.
Hurrying wouldn't change anything.
I would still have to fight.
I glanced back once as I crossed the threshold.
The bed.
The grey wall beside it.
The red numbers written across it.
Then—
Before I turned forward again, something moved.
A small head peeked from the bed below.
The girl.
Number 30.
She looked at me and silently mouthed the words.
'Good luck.'
I paused for a moment before nodding and turning around.
The guard shoved me forward and slammed the door shut behind us.
Thud.
He took the lead and walked down the corridor, shouting without looking back.
"Follow me."
We followed.
11 and 4 walked ahead. I stayed a step behind them.
The corridor felt longer than before.
We passed the place where the women once stood with crates.
Step.
We passed the smith's room.
Step.
We reached the hall where we had entered yesterday.
The guard stopped and pointed at a group of teens waiting before a massive metal gate.
"Wait there."
We walked toward them.
I stopped near the edge of the group and counted their numbers.
Thirteen.
Then I glanced toward the two boys beside me.
Two.
My jaw tightened.
With me, it's sixteen.
Again.
A death battle.
My fists clenched.
I will survive.
I have to.
Until tomorrow.
Thud.
The metal gate split apart.
Screech.
Metal scraped against stone.
Light poured through the opening, blinding me.
"Move!" a guard shouted.
Step.
I took one step forward.
Step.
Another.
Step.
Stone turned into sand beneath my feet.
Step.
My eyes adjusted slowly, the brightness fading.
The stands.
The walls.
The crowd.
And as if welcoming us, the crowd erupted into a chant that echoed across the arena.
"BLOOD! NO MERCY!"