Knock.
I knocked on the old metal door in front of me.
Click.
The door opened with a heavy creak, and light spilled in.
After walking up the dark staircase, I had to close my eyes for a moment until they adjusted to the brightness.
"How was it, slave?"
The guard who had opened the door leaned lazily against it, chuckling as he spoke.
I didn't answer.
I simply stepped out of the dark staircase.
The guard opened the door wider and stepped aside to let me pass, but as I walked by, I still heard his last mutter.
"Must've been quite the experience."
Thud.
The door shut behind me.
I walked down the corridor without caring about what he had said.
Step.
I soon reached the hall where the gate stood. My head turned at once, casting a brief glance inside.
It was already filled with teens.
I didn't know the exact time, but it was likely somewhere around late morning.
Step.
Walking past the metal gate, I continued down the corridor until I reached the bath.
I stepped inside.
Luckily, it was empty.
I walked toward one of the faucets, picked up a bucket, turned it upside down, and sat on it.
Haah.
Letting out a breath, I rested for a moment.
My legs felt heavy, fatigue clinging to me.
I had worked the whole night, and after helping Baldy with the beasts, they had sent me over to shit duty since, as Baldy had put it, I wasn't much help there. And as much as it disgusted me to admit it—
Taking care of the shit had been better.
But—
I looked down.
Not that much better.
My feet were covered in blood and shit, while my skin had turned into a mixture of brown and black. My clothes weren't in any better state.
And then there was the stench.
Breathing fresh air—if I could even call it that—felt so much better.
I had been underground for so long that at some point I stopped noticing the smell.
But I still knew.
I reeked of blood and shit.
Haah.
Letting out another breath, I stood up.
I pulled my shirt over my head and stepped out of my pants before filling a bucket with warm water and starting to wash my clothes. I scraped at the fabric with my nails and rubbed it against the wooden bucket, trying to get the stains out.
It didn't really matter how my clothes looked. But I had to get the stench out at least.
It took some time before I finally felt like the stench was gone. Hanging them over a free faucet to dry, I started to wash myself.
I rubbed a piece of soap over my skin, trying to scrub away the black stains. Some spots had to be scrubbed three or four times before the dirt finally came off, but in the end, I managed it.
Taking a towel from the shelf, I dried myself before reaching for my clothes. I wrung them out before dressing again.
They were still wet, but it was just uncomfortable.
I wouldn't get sick.
I had done this too often already and never had any problems. Maybe it was because of my awakened body. Or I had simply developed some sort of resistance to cold.
It didn't matter.
I wouldn't get sick.
That was all that mattered.
After dressing, I walked out of the bath but stopped in the corridor.
'Should I head to the arena or back to my cell?'
It was hard to decide.
I was exhausted from the work and hadn't slept. But at the same time, I didn't want to skip training. There would still be time to sleep afterward, and I had already eaten with the other workers. So there wasn't really any reason not to train besides exhaustion.
Sigh.
Step.
I turned and walked toward the arena.
There wasn't some grand reason behind the decision.
I just knew I would feel like shit if I didn't train.
And somehow—
That feeling was even stronger today.
I didn't know why.
I just felt like I needed to train.
Step.
I reached the gate.
A pair of guards sat near the entrance, playing cards, while the teens inside did drills and sparred.
I walked through the gate and turned left toward one of the weapon racks, searching for my sword. Finding the longsword among the others, I wrapped my hand around its grip and pulled it free.
I placed it over my shoulder and turned toward the arena, eyes drifting around, searching for an empty place to train.
The arena was crowded.
But somehow, the spot where I had always trained. The one next to the platform and podium where John always stood was empty.
No other teen had taken it.
I didn't know why.
But it didn't matter.
Step.
I walked toward it, walking past the other teens. Some of them glanced at me as I moved by, but quickly returned to their own training.
Reaching the spot, I planted my feet firmly in the sand. My toes sank slightly into the ground. Lifting the sword from my shoulder and settling it into stance, I immediately felt that something was different today.
My chest felt tight, and my core throbbed faintly as I enhanced my body.
That strange feeling I had carried since earlier hadn't vanished.
It was the same restlessness that had made me choose to train despite the exhaustion.
It was difficult to explain.
But—
My body wanted to move.
That was what it told me.
Move.
Swing.
So that was what I did.
Step.
I stepped forward and delivered a diagonal slash at empty air.
Shing.
After the slash, I returned into stance.
Step.
But—
Something felt wrong.
The strike.
The way I used mana.
My step.
It was as if I were moving one beat off.
So I tried again.
Step.
Shing.
But the moment I swung, the mana I used to enhance myself rippled for an instant.
It wasn't strong.
But it was enough to make the whole motion feel wrong.
Lowering the sword, I concentrated on my core, trying to feel the mana inside it. There wasn't any great difference, but I felt it.
Something was off…
"Hey."