Colosseum
A fair bit of time had passed since Alden’s escape.
So...
“Hey!”
“Yes, sir!”
“How many days has it been since I got thrown in here?”
“S-six years and two hundred fourteen days, sir...!”
“Fuck, that’s a goddamn long time.”
Yeah, roughly three years since Alden bolted.
Time had flown by in a blur.
“Good work.”
I gave a light pat on the back of the young gladiator’s head—his posture ramrod straight with discipline—and stepped out of the training grounds.
In this country, you’re an adult at sixteen.
So I’d been stuck here from snot-nosed kid to full-grown man?
What a shitty feeling.
I could kinda understand how Alden must’ve felt, that runaway gladiator.
I’d already gone from champion hopeful to actual champion a while back, but the itch to get the hell out hadn’t faded one bit.
Today, like always, I trudged down the corridor with a scowl etched deep, entering the private cell they’d set aside just for me. I sank onto the bed.
“Hoo...”
After a quick glance around to make sure no one was nearby, I circulated the cultivation method Alden had taught me.
The air in here was foul, sure.
But this place brimmed with energy.
The opposite of the stuffy, poorly ventilated hellhole it was.
Vital force.
Yang energy, overflowing.
This was where gladiators lived and breathed, wagering their lives in every fight.
I absorbed the life force pouring off them, building up my Aura.
After a short session, I opened my eyes.
Then picked up the wooden practice dagger I’d left on the desk.
And...
Shhhk—
I channeled the energy I’d just gathered into it...
Crack—
A split ran right through the wood.
“...Not quite.”
I could manage the circulation, but coating an object was still beyond my skill level.
And stuck in this isolated cage, there was no one to ask.
Hell, I couldn’t even tell if I was doing it right.
Still...
I wrapped the energy around my body.
This surging high never got old.
Three years since Alden split.
I’d powered through a hellish schedule without missing a single day of cultivation.
Always careful never to get caught.
For the day I might need to bolt like Alden did in his worst spot.
I was better off than him, at least.
No shackles like the ones they’d clamped on him.
That day, after wrapping up my secret practice...
“Hey, champion.”
I was taking a stroll around the nearby training grounds when one of the Colosseum staffers called me over.
“What?”
“Your schedule’s set.”
He handed me the timetable printed on cheap mass-produced paper from the Mage Tower.
My usual brutal lineup was scrawled there: mid-grade monsters like orcs and werewolves as the baseline, plus matches against other gladiators.
And as always, the week’s finale was the highlight bout.
I wondered what poor bastard it’d be this time.
“...This right?”
My turn, huh?
“Yeah, the bosses upstairs have high hopes. Don’t fuck it up.”
I’d been wondering when they’d finally match me against it.
After Alden escaped, the Colosseum had been tearing their hair out for three years over how to handle that ogre.
An ogre was top-tier among massive monsters.
Containment facilities, feed—maintenance costs must’ve been insane.
Even their monster-vs-monster event matches probably strained the budget.
“But Alden couldn’t even take it down...”
Still.
Wasn’t this a stretch for me?
Champion or not, honestly, I’d need two of me to beat one Alden.
And that Alden had chosen to run from the ogre. Seemed like a clear mismatch.
“Don’t sweat it. We’ll throw in a bunch of other gladiators with you.”
The staffer replied like it was no big deal.
...A raid setup, then?
Fair enough. With a squad of high-rankers, who knew?
Still.
“Got it.”
I could feel it—this place was nearing its end for me.
These psychos never learned, did they?
Fine for me, but grinding senior gladiators for aggro? Insane.
“Don’t even dream of pulling an Alden and running.”
“Yes, sir.”
Guess.
I’d need to prep my exit too.
Time passed.
A week later.
I headed to the Colosseum for the highlight match capping off the week, right on schedule.
“Wooooah—!!”
“Champion!”
The stands, usually two-thirds full at best, were packed to the brim today.
They’d clearly hustled hard with promo, hype being hype.
Attendance had tanked meaningfully after Alden’s escape stunt.
Good chance to wash away that three-year-old fuckup.
[And here comes the champion!!]
The announcer bellowed through his little megaphone.
“Kyaaa!”
“Look over here!!”
The crowd’s cheers roared in my ears, hyped to the gills.
This scene, these sounds.
Every time I saw and heard them, it pissed me off.
What the fuck did these assholes love so much?
At least it was a relief.
[And his opponent... the eternal overlord of this Colosseum! King of the Mountains!]
Hearing that would end today. For good.
There, across this massive arena.
An ogre, shackled head to toe, glaring out from behind iron bars.
...The pressure was insane. Roughly three times human size?
I’d glimpsed it once from afar.
Facing it up close, my body trembled on instinct.
No wonder even that powerhouse Alden had legged it.
[And joining today’s event! Our Colosseum’s pride—the senior gladiators!]
They flashed the ogre on the screens, then...
“Wooooaaah!!!”
“Uwooo!!”
Iron gates elsewhere ground open.
Gladiators poured out, each gripping different weapons.
Like me, they wore minimal armor.
Had to show the blood for the crowd’s kicks, after all.
Even against an ogre? Ballsy getup.
What the hell were they thinking...?
[The match of the century! Let it begin!]
Honestly.
Really honestly, it looked doable.
Because...
“Let’s go, everyone!!”
“Tie the bastard up!”
This Colosseum’s senior gladiators were top-notch.
Regulars trained daily while fighting monsters tooth and nail.
Climbing to senior meant they were the real deal.
Didn’t mean it’d be easy, though. I’d probably have to sacrifice an arm at minimum.
[Here it comes! The ogre’s unleashed!]
The ogre broke free.
“Attack!”
“I’ll take its head!”
The gladiators charged in a frenzy.
I gripped my sword tight and rushed the ogre alongside them.
[The champion charges!]
I glanced skyward amid the announcer’s excited play-by-play.
More precisely, gauging the height of the stands looming like the heavens over us.
One jump wouldn’t cut it.
If I knew exactly how Alden pulled his escape, I’d copy the master.
No intel, so I’d plot my own route.
“Hoo...”
I circulated Aura through my body.
Compressing it to the brink, right before release.
No running? Fuck that.
A bit early, but.
I’d prepped for this day.
[Finally! Champion clashes with ogre!]
The announcer whooped as I barreled toward the beast.
One day I’d stick that hype man with a blade.
Too bad I couldn’t today.
Thud—
I kicked off the ground.
Aura surging, I vaulted straight to the ogre’s shoulder height in one go.
[Wha—! The champion’s flying!]
Rooooaaar—!
Eye level in a blink, the ogre bellowed.
My body locked up at the sound.
...So this was fear, the pre-fight hype.
That primal terror roar only the strongest monsters could unleash.
But.
With Aura, it was different.
I looped energy through my body, shaking off the paralysis in a flash.
Landed on the ogre’s shoulder.
Then.
“Hup.”
All the circulated Aura funneled to my legs.
Just like endless practice: I leaped for the sky.
[Uh, uh...?]
The announcer’s dumbfounded stutter trailed as my body soared toward the stands.
[You little shit—!]
A weird barrier shimmered at the stands’ edge.
Post-Alden precaution?
But.
Riiip—crack!
My sword wasn’t for slicing air.
I shredded the barrier, vaulted into the stands, and landed clean.
“Wha—wha...!”
“Kyaa—kyaaaak—!”
The crowd that always lorded over me from above shrieked in horror, not cheers, scrambling from their seats.
“Hoo...”
...Aura drain was heavier than expected.
Could I make it out of the Colosseum like this?
I knew it was a rich city, but zero grasp of the layout.
Dragged in blindfolded, no outings for gladiators.
Still, worth a shot.
I bolted across the stands, hunting the exit.
Where the mob was thickest heading out.
Yeah, there.
The second I launched to break free...
“You’re not passing!”
“Block him!”
Colosseum guards—and a few spectators—reacted sharp, plugging the entrance.
...About twenty.
A few radiated serious energy.
Breaking through? Suicide.
Even if I did, no guarantee I’d be whole.
So...
Plan B: pivot.
Hated this play, but no choice now.
Scan quick, like I’d mapped: weakest link, priciest look.
Yeah. That girl.
I kicked off, pouring everything into a sprint toward the kid in the fancy dress.
“Miss!”
“Get back!”
Her two guards drew blades to intercept.
Desperate times.
I bulled through brute force.
Life-or-death tightropes? Old hat.
“You fucker...!”
But these guys were elite—no panic, blades whistling lethal.
Whish—slash—
Straight thrust, side cut.
Two edges incoming, laced with faint Aura.
Users, too.
...Aura this common? News to me.
Guess she was big-time nobility.
Yeah, had to be for hostage value against these medieval barbarians.
Clang!!
Batted the thrust aside.
Ducked low for the throat slash, body arching back big.
Razor-close—fraction late and my jugular’s gone.
But my senses, amped from that botched drug back then, screamed dodge.
“...!”
“Miss!”
I shoved past them.
“Everyone stay put!”
Champion-forged razor to the neck of the golden-haired girl.
“You—you bastard...!”
“Do you even know who she is?!”
Reactions screamed jackpot.
“Don’t care—clear a path!”
...Me, pulling a dumbass hostage stunt? Never saw it coming.
Post-escape, pursuit squad for sure.
Snagging nobility? Multiplied numbers.
...But I trusted my evasion and trail-wipe.
Magic was the wildcard, but gotta roll the dice.
Then...
“Don’t kill him. Subdue.”
The hostage girl dropped a weird line.
No killing?
That instant.
Dizzying instinct spiked every nerve.
I yanked the blade tighter to her throat—
Boom!!
Massive impact hurled me into the stand seats.
“The nerve.”
A frail old voice followed.
“Guhk!”
Body reeling from shock.
What hit me?
Shing.
While I reeled, the two guards snapped blades to my throat.
“Our apologies...”
“Miss, truly sorry.”
Bowing to her, eyes screaming murder.
And that geezer who’d popped up beside her.
The monster who launched me, probably.
...Game over.
Should’ve just tanked the ogre, arm be damned?
Or maybe punching through twenty was smarter.
Whatever.
“No regrets in death, right.”
End of the line.
...Even I had to laugh at the absurdity.
Just like that failed slave market breakout.
Crushed by overwhelming power. A sensation my old life never knew.
All ’cause I banked on my meager experience and strength. Predictable doom, maybe.
As I sensed the end of my second life...
“I wanna keep him.”
“Miss?”
The girl’s words flipped the script.
“Hey, you.”
I’d targeted her for the ritzy clothes, hadn’t clocked her face. Now those eerie glowing red eyes fixed on me.
“Wanna be my doggy?”
Or...
“Die?”
My answer was set.