The men in the cage went ballistic, grabbing the cutlery trying to end the other, or using underhanded tactics like grabbing the hair. But at that time, underhanded or not, it didn't matter at all. The fight ended in 10 minutes and in the death of another, caused by head injuries, head smashed onto the ground multiple times. And the winner got an entire chicken breast cooked by the servants thrown onto the ground, and yet he ate like a dog.

“This won’t do.” The old man said. “We need to entertain the audiences more.” The old man then points to two slaves, again from the lines, one on the left and one on the right. Then he points at the ground signaling Mane to bring them right to him.

Once the two slaves were brought there. He put out his index and middle finger, then all of the sudden, the air became tense, the slaves were very slightly pulled towards the old man and they could feel an intense wave of energy forming around it. It was mana. The man proceeded to cut open the chains and shackles with relative ease, just like cutting through butter. 

“That guy is a qualified mage, shit. I underestimated him.” Arthur uttered softly as to not let him hear it.. “Those are the kind of magic you see on the battlefield.”

“Fight.” The old man exclaimed again.

The two slaves were thrown into the cage. The nobles laughed and cheered joyfully, at their despairing faces. At first they hesitated to fight, neither of them had the will and the determination to do it, that is, until one of the nobles threw a coin at them. Then the cheering got louder and more nobles started throwing coins too. Pressuring them into fighting, and of course, they knew what would happen if they didn't. 

The two ‘gladiators’ rushed towards each other, trying to get a hold of one another. Both of them only tried using their fist and legs, ignoring any cutlery around them as to minimize bloodshed and prevent any deaths. After all, they’d already seen enough. One of them eventually did get a hold of the other, both hands on the others’ hips and threw the ‘defender’ against the ground. Then the ‘attacker’ rushed in a flurry of attacks on the ‘defender’ that was already at the ground. The ‘defender’ blocked the attacks and tried to gas the ‘attacker’ out. The ‘attacker’ stopped, the ‘defender’ stopped defending himself, and found an opening. He tried to get a right hook in, but it was a bluff. 

The ‘attacker’ swiftly knocked the ‘defender’ out. He won. He smirked thinking that he won, and successfully prevented any deaths. However the cheering stopped, and instead they booed, they weren't satisfied by the win achieved by him. He looked around afraid and confused, then behind his back, someone softly demanded, “kill him.”

The man was handed a dulled butter knife used when preparing toasts or breads, completely unsuitable to kill. His hands shaking, unable to make a proper decision, his mind became blurry and dizzy, and he started to cry as a natural human instinct in order to comfort or alleviate the body. He begged to what he knew was the old man, “Please! Have mercy, I…I don’t want to kill another human being.” As he kneels to the ground and his hands around the old man’s left leg.

“Alright.” He said softly. “I’ll have mercy on you. Please rest easy.”

The man looked up, joyful. “T-Than-

A second later, the man’s head was rolling on the ground, with blood splattering all of the cold, hard ground.

The nobles bursted into laughter and cheers. ”HOOOOO!” As each of them lifted up their cold refreshing beverage, and drank, ate. Smiles can be seen all across the nobles’ faces. Frei glanced at the silhouette of the hunching old man in the flickering light of the campfire, and at that very moment, Frei mistook it to be an eerie shadow of a horned demon, which shook him a bit.

“Get rid of the body. And drag this one back to where he was a moment ago.” the old man ordered Mane. “Now, people! This is just the beginning. We have much more to do and watch! Please, if you are entertained, or perhaps want to make some money. Put some coins into the bowl and bet your hard earned money on our fighters, or if you’re willing to bet yours. After all, you’ll be the one profiting the most.” He said charismatically while lifting both his arms up enthusiastically, hyping up the event. The air was filled with cheering and malice, which engulfed all displayed despair and fear the slaves had.

“Why the fuck would they come here, just to look at slaves forced to become gladiators?” questioned Johnny angrily. “Couldn’t they just buy tickets to a colosseum?”  

“They are sadists, that’s why. They don’t like fighting themselves but instead they like the faces they have when they fight. They don’t see that type of crying and begging in a colosseum, not often anyway.” Berg said.

“Maybe you can ask your lord and savior to save them?” said Arthur sarcastically.

“...” Johnny stayed silent, frowning at Arthr’s remarks. Then beside him, in the line a boy he had never seen before, a lad around 17 to 18 puked, due to the pressure and violence he’d seen from the crowd in front. “Kid, you alright?”

“I…I am fine, I… just can’t stand the air that’s all.” the lad said. “I knew it! I knew this was going to happen. They’ve been doing this for ages now. Of course, the next would be me of all people. Haha” he chuckled nervously. 

“Ages? You mean they’d been doing this outside of here? Hosting slaves fights, on this scale?” asked Johnny. 

“Minus the killing. N-No, not on this scale, this is the first i’ve seen where so many nobles and aristocrats gather to just see some slaves fighting.” the lad explained, while breathing heavily. “I’ve seen it enough times to be desensitized from it. But… for some reason, this time feels extra ominous.” he continued.

“It’s more common than you think.” Arthur said. “Outside here, on the battlefields, whenever there’s a victor, the losers always have to accept whatever demands given by the victors. Whether it’s morally right or not.” Arthur explained disregarding the fight and emotions the others are having. “When I was a mercenary, stuff like this would happen all the time when we held a fortress captive, we would ask the prisoners and losers to fight and kill each other, all I did was go along with it.” Arthur said regretfully.

Frei listened to the story attentively, sure enough he was slightly shaken by it, because stories outside told by “Gloria” and the drawings in Johnny’s journal may not be as nice as it sounds then . He just stayed silent, staring blankly at the fight going down in the cage. Hoping that whatever he’s thinking is not true, and will not come true. Then his thoughts are halted by a loud punch.

*THUD*

“THE FIGHT IS OVER! NUMBER 1 Have WON!!” shouted by one of the servants in the area. 

Some were upset by their loss but most were happy as their predictions have come into fruition. Those who were happy, quickly rushed to collect their shares from the bowl, leaving with only but a few coins in it. Frei looked again at the happy and upset members of nobility, unbothered by whatever they were doing. Then suddenly, in Frei’s vision, he saw the old man…

Pointing

At

Him.

“Fight.” the old man uttered yet again, softly and demanding, with a big devilish smile on his face. Then he moved his finger slightly to Frei’s right, “That boy too. Fight.” 

He was pointing to the lad that puked, perhaps as an act of revenge for spoiling his land. But nevertheless, the two young powerless boys, were forced to fight, and as adrenaline surged throughout Frei’s entire being, the sounds of cheering and cries from the boy on his right as well as the supports and concern words given by Johnny, Berg and those around him, became muffled and eventually all that Frei can hear, is silence.

As Frei began to walk towards the cage. All anxiety and worries left him. And when he entered the cage, all that is left within his perspective is the boy right in front of him, shaking, sobbing and him. Himself.