"Adonis."
We looked at each other while shaking hands for a few moments before he pulled his hand back and turned around.
As he walked away, I heard him whisper.
"A strange name."
Haah.
Letting out a breath, I lifted my sword onto my shoulder.
I lost the duel.
Yes, he had used a cheap trick and thrown sand into my face, blinding me.
But as he had said—
There are no rules here.
It was kill or be killed.
No matter the method you use.
Watching his back as he disappeared into the crowd of teens, I murmured quietly.
"Rash."
He was strong.
It could be said that our duel was even, with him gaining the upper hand through tricks.
Among all the teens I had fought, he was the strongest.
By a lot.
No other teen had ever come close to winning against me after I familiarised myself with the sword.
But he?
He even won.
I had fought so many battles that I had grown used to winning.
The survivor.
That was me.
I had survived in this hellish place for so long without losing even once.
Battle after battle.
I won.
I survived.
But now—
For the first time...
I had lost.
My hand tightened around the grip of my sword at the thought.
I didn't like it.
The feeling of losing.
It had only been a duel.
But what if we ever fought each other to the death?
Would I win?
I wasn't sure.
That uncertainty.
I didn't like it.
How many other tricks did he have up his sleeve?
How could I beat him?
Those were the questions in my mind.
Not because of rivalry.
But if the moment ever came—
I needed to be able to kill him.
To survive.
Until tomorrow.
Step.
I would rest for a bit and continue my mana training later in the cell.
Step.
I took another step forward and left the arena.
***
Click.
The cell was empty when I entered.
I was the first one to come back after training and had already washed myself.
Taking some food from the crate, I climbed onto my bed. Sitting comfortably with my back against the stone wall and my feet hanging from the edge, I ate.
It was silent.
Not only the cell but the entire corridor was quiet.
Most of the teens and guards were still in the arena.
I enjoyed the silence for a while before continuing my mana training.
Time passed.
One by one, the other teens returned to the cell from the arena.
I continued my training until—
"Hey Adonis, training again?"
A loud voice interrupted me.
I didn't need to open my eyes to know who it was. Still, I opened my eyes, and there in front of my bed stood number 125.
Rash.
"You're quite the hard worker," he said with a chuckle. "First training in the arena, now again in the cell."
Glancing at him briefly, I answered flatly while continuing my training.
"Yes."
"I was wondering how someone your age could be so strong," he continued. "Now I have my answer. Hahah."
He rested his arms on my bed and continued to speak while leaning against it.
"I still can't believe it. What are you—fifteen? Maybe sixteen? And you've already reached the third stage? Not only that, but you almost beat me in our duel—and I'm at least two years older than you."
My focus broke as he kept talking. I stopped my training and looked at him.
Curiosity slipped through before I could stop it.
"You're eighteen?"
"Yeah."
Hearing his answer, I pushed myself away from the wall and lay down on the bed.
There was no point in continuing my training while he stood there talking.
Rash stayed leaning against the end of my bed, watching me.
"And you? How old are you?"
I shifted slightly on the bed until I was comfortable before answering.
"Fourteen."
Thud.
The bed shook slightly as Rash pushed himself upright in surprise.
"You are fourteen!?"
I glanced at him with tired eyes before resting my head on the pillow and closing them.
"Wow. A True Awakened at fourteen," he said. "I never thought I'd see something like that."
"How is that even possible? Are you some kind of genius?"
Haah.
He let out a breath.
"Will you reach stage five before even turning eighteen or what?"
Rash kept talking, completely oblivious to every sign I showed.
I didn't want to talk.
"Fourteen years old. Stage three. Hardworking. You could have made it big if you weren't a slave, huh?"
Sigh.
"Fate is a bitch."
Then suddenly his weight lifted from the bed as he stepped away.
"Oh man, I'm really exhausted," he said. "I'm going to sleep for a bit. Never know when they'll call you for another fight, right?"
I heard the creaking of his bed as he lay down.
"Good night, Adonis."
With Rash finally silent, I was able to sleep.
***
Click.
The cell door opened, and a guard brought another crate of food.
As I woke up, I realized that we hadn't been called for another fight.
Rubbing my sleeve over my eyes, I looked around.
A few teens had woken briefly when the guard entered, but quickly returned to sleep. I was the only one fully awake.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I climbed down and grabbed some food from the crate before heading toward the arena.
I had slept a lot last night since I couldn't train. My body felt refreshed. It had been a long time since I had gotten that much sleep.
But I couldn't do that every day.
There wasn't enough time to spend it on resting.
I had to become stronger.
As I walked down the corridor, I thought back to our last beast fight—and why they hadn't called us again.
It was surprising, but it also made sense.
We wouldn't fight against beasts every single day. At least a few days—maybe even a week—would pass between each fight.
Not because the colosseum lacked beasts.
I had seen them. There were more than enough to make us fight every single day.
But they likely changed the schedule and gave us longer resting periods to avoid killing us too quickly.
Fighting beasts was different from fighting other teens.
Injuries are more severe, and more teens would die. There also weren't enough groups left to throw them into one battle after the other.
We needed time to recover.
Maybe even time to train our teamwork.
That would make the fights more interesting for the crowd.
Their entertainment couldn't die too early.
Step.
Receiving a glance from the guards at the arena entrance, I stopped my thoughts and entered. Taking my sword from the rack, I placed it on my shoulder and walked to my usual training spot.
Thud.
I stabbed the sword into the ground and sat down with my back leaning against the wall.
Today would be the same as yesterday.
Closing my eyes, I focused on my core and forced mana through my pathways again, slowly widening them.
The pain had lessened compared to when I first started this training.
Before, it felt as if every tendon in my body was being torn apart. Now it was more like aggressive stretching.
It was still painful. But much more bearable than before.
As my control improved, I slowly began enhancing my senses again.
Eyes.
Ears.
Nose.
I only used a small amount of mana—just enough to make things slightly uncomfortable, but not enough to overwhelm me.
Just like with the rest of my body, I would slowly widen the pathways in my head.
While sweat slowly formed on my forehead during training, my mind kept circling around something Rash had said yesterday.
He had called me a genius for reaching the third stage at fourteen.
Genius.
The word wouldn't leave my mind.
A genius...
I was certain that I wasn't one.
Because if I were—
I wouldn't be in a place like this.
Being called a genius felt more like an insult than a compliment.
Everything I had achieved in my life came from effort.
There were no miracles.
Nothing that just happened on the first try.
I tried.
I failed.
I tried again.
And failed again.
Over and over—
Until I succeeded.
The year I spent in the colosseum—surviving and fighting with everything I had.
Every time I stood closer to death—
I became a little stronger.
Relearning swordsmanship and improving it with every battle.
My mana control—polished until it became like breathing to me.
I spent countless hours on every skill I possessed.
While the other teens played house and built friendships.
I trained.
While they slept—
I trained my mana control.
While they rested in their cells—
I swung my sword.
And while they died—
I survived.
The only survivor.
That was me.
Not because I was born a genius.
But because I poured my blood and sweat into becoming stronger.
That was why I hated that word.
Because it made it sound like everything I had achieved meant nothing.
As if all those hours I trained never existed.
As if everything I had was simply a gift.
I am not a genius.
I am just trying my best to survive.