The Leisurely Execution (1)
Even anesthesia was absent. After all, these were the sort of men who wouldn’t care if someone died of shock. At the very least, they wouldn’t feel pity or concern. Unless, of course, they found it entertaining. Once that suspicion took root, the unhurried rasp of the saw began to feel infinitely more sinister. Perhaps they weren’t struggling with the bone at all. Perhaps they simply wanted Nathan to feel every moment of the pain.
Resistance, whether great or small, proved useless. The rigid frame once again nullified Nathan’s thrashing. The crimson iron clamps held his limbs fast until the moment his hand was severed. Thud. That was the sound he heard just as he lost consciousness. By then Nathan’s awareness had already faded, so he never knew whether the feeling that washed over him was relief at the saw finally stopping or terror at having lost his hand.
“Get up.”
Cold water poured over his head was no longer enough. Only when a charged pole jabbed into his back did Nathan jerk his head up with a convulsive start.
“We’ve only cut off one so far.”
Nathan saw one of the soldiers sweeping something off the floor. The object, shoved aside by the lightning spear, left a red smear across the ground. His left hand.
“I told you I’d make you pay. If you couldn’t settle the debt in the arena, you’ll have to pay with something else. Anyone who comes into my establishment and tries to screw me over ends up like this.”
It was absurd. He was being punished simply for winning. They sprinkled powder over the stump and wrapped it tightly in bandages. Nathan wished he could just pass out. The arena owner lowered his voice in an uncharacteristic attempt at gravity. Sparks flew from the eyes buried in his puffy lids, yet unlike yesterday he wasn’t sweating profusely. So this was what they had been all along—men who could maim Nathan without the slightest hesitation, the way one might sever the jaw tendons of a fighting dog or clip the beak and talons of a fighting cock. They treated living creatures like property.
Nathan’s clenched jaw opened out of habit. What slipped from his lips was neither a plea nor a beg. It was mockery, forced through the gap between his teeth by pure reflex.
“You bark promises you never intend to keep, so of course people curse you. The air tasted sweet right up until I knocked that crocodile-headed bastard flat, didn’t it?”
A fist slammed into his cheek. Crack. Yet Nathan’s mouth refused to close.
“Beat the chimera and I’ll send you home. Nagrik and the rest of you can rest easy—your money’s safe. Every single one of you is a winner. Now, how many of those bets were riding on my word?”
The arena owner swung again and again. Blow after merciless blow rained down on a man who couldn’t fight back, bound to the frame. At least, that was how it played out inside the owner’s head. Even though the slaps echoed loudly, Nathan only sneered. The fat man couldn’t even put proper weight behind his punches. Compared to sparring with fellow knights or grappling with orcs, it barely registered as an itch. Predictably, the only thing swelling was the owner’s own hand after striking Nathan’s hardened body. Clutching his tender knuckles and panting, the arena owner finally snatched a lightning spear from one of the soldiers. The power source wasn’t active, but the iron rod made a serviceable club. A flurry of indiscriminate strikes followed. Clang. When the metal cracked against the side of Nathan’s skull, his head finally lolled forward. Breathing like a storm, the owner approached slowly, grabbed Nathan by the hair, and yanked his face up.
“So? Learned anything yet?”
Nathan lifted his head. What filled his vision was a face bloated with greed. Two ears stuck onto a ball of fat. The awkward fury etched across that round, wide face suggested a man who had spent most of his life in positions of advantage. It was an insult, in itself, to the image of an elf from any fantasy. A ridiculous thought crossed Nathan’s mind. To think I once begged this man to send me home. How embarrassing.
Still sweating from the unimaginable agony, Nathan smiled brightly. Life always handed him things this way, so naturally his mouth filled with venom.
“Yeah. You look fucking ridiculous.”
Nathan’s body suddenly pitched forward. The restraints on his wrists had been loosened slightly to make the amputation easier. Compared to when they had first bound him hours ago, the difference was only a few centimeters. But it was enough. Before the owner or the soldiers could react, it happened. Nathan lunged like a viper and sank his teeth into the arena owner’s ear.
“Ghhhaaaaah—!”
As the employer thrashed his flabby limbs and screamed, the soldiers finally rushed in, horrified. Hands and fists pried at the two men, trying to separate them, yet they couldn’t tear the jaws clamped shut like a tool. After a prolonged struggle, the arena owner was finally freed. The price, however, was steep. Thud. Something soft hit the floor. The fat man’s mouth fell open.
“I only took one, too.”
Nathan’s mouth looked ready to split from the grin. The soldiers recoiled in shock at the sight of him baring his teeth like a wolf. There had been gladiators who lost body parts after angering the owner, but few who refused to submit even after reaching this point. And the one who had actually bitten the owner… in all their centuries of life, none of them had ever witnessed such a scene.
“I’ll make you look even funnier. Try this. You think losing one hand means I can’t kill you?”
The owner’s eyes darted over Nathan. Nathan’s limbs were still locked tight, and the soldiers now held him down by the neck. Only then did the owner clench his fists and charge.
“Let go! I’m going to slaughter that crazy ape—!”
The soldiers panicked and tried to restrain him. The thought of another incident occurring if he got close again was clearly unbearable. Yet the owner struck the faces of the men holding him back and snatched a rod from yet another guard. Rage still outweighed the reality of his injury. This time the power was switched on. Electricity crackled menacingly along the shaft.
“Sir, we don’t have much time.”
The secretary’s voice trembled. It must have taken considerable courage to offer advice. One could easily imagine how he was usually treated. The owner, who had been about to bring the rod down, froze. “The wound needs to be cauterized before infection sets in. You have far more important matters than a gladiator slave. The councilor who requested an audience is waiting.”
The owner’s face, flushed crimson, looked ready to explode. Nathan assumed he would ignore the secretary. Nothing in his behavior so far suggested he was skilled at controlling his emotions. Yet the man lowered the spear. He even took a deep breath to calm himself and returned the weapon to the soldier. As the owner left, Nathan felt relief. Well, that’s fine by me. Damn it, at least I kept one hand—
“Understood. Cut the other one off quickly!”
Nathan’s pupils shook. There was no time to protest. The saw bit into his right hand next. Suffering didn’t become easier just because one had experienced it before. The scream was no smaller than the first. Flinching at the horrific sound, the secretary picked up the arena owner’s severed ear, wrapped it carefully in a handkerchief, and hurried after his employer.
Clang. Once the work was finished, the soldiers finally released Nathan from the frame. They dragged his unconscious body down the corridor in the opposite direction from the arena. One of the soldiers looked down at Nathan with something almost like pity. He looked so menacing at first, but now… not so much. He’s so young. The terrifying forearms had made him seem older, yet up close the boy appeared remarkably youthful even for a short-lived Sapiens. In Eleim years, he might have been a Ba-eleim just shy of earning citizenship. Those fearsome arms were useless now that his hands were gone. Watching the powerless boy, the soldier offered a silent prayer to the heavens. Going peacefully is already out of the question, so at least let his soul find rest in death.
The soldiers stopped and secured Nathan’s body to the wall with straps. When the floor of the hull opened, a fierce wind rushed upward. The view three kilometers below was dizzying. They rolled Nathan out into the open air.
“Good heavens. Is he even alive?”
“Who knows. It wouldn’t be strange if he were dead.”
“It’s not that it wouldn’t be strange—he looks like he should be dead.”
“We’ll only know once we check. I’ll go first.”
Clang. A harpoon trailing a cable embedded itself firmly in the iron bars. The metallic impact made Nathan’s body twitch. He hadn’t regained consciousness. It was merely a reflexive response born from the pain carved into his flesh. The harpoon’s hook coiled around the steel like a living thing, anchoring the cable so it wouldn’t sway. Soon someone began descending along the line. The pleasant sound of the weighted hook scraping against the steel rope filled the air. Bin, the Sword Star Sect member savoring the wind as he descended, deliberately let go of the handle attached to the hook midway. For a brief instant he experienced the dizzying sensation of freefall thousands of meters above the ground, clothes fluttering. He caught the bars just in time, then quickly climbed up and pressed himself against the cage.
“See? Don’t be scared. I told you it was easy.”
“What kind of nonsense is that—telling someone not to be scared while doing something like that! Just check if the boy is breathing!”
“You want me to check? Hey, you alive?”
Nathan reacted. A tiny movement, almost impossible to notice. Lying there as if dead, he had only tensed the muscles in his waist. Thanks to the killing intent radiating from Bin, the Sword Star Sect member noticed the motion and felt a flicker of admiration. If anyone approached the fallen boy to deliver a finishing blow, he intended to strike then. Like a wounded animal hiding its fangs. Even so, Bin opened the cage door and stepped inside. Sensing the shift, Nathan’s eyes snapped open. His gaze locked onto Bin’s ears. Long ears. An elf. Nathan bared his teeth and launched himself forward, half on instinct. The long-ear. I have to hit him first, before he does anything to me. Otherwise—
“Sorry, but even with both arms intact you wouldn’t stand a chance.”
The scabbard that flew at him struck Nathan’s neck and slammed him to the floor. His lungs convulsed violently against the metal. It wasn’t a sword. It was a sheath. Smooth wood grain pressed between his vertebrae. The weight distribution was uncanny. Pinned by nothing more than the tip of a scabbard, he couldn’t rise in any direction. He couldn’t breathe. Nathan tried to grab the man’s leg, but he no longer had fingers. The bandage around his arm shifted, and fresh blood seeped through. Bin stared at it grimly, then pinned Nathan down with a knee and removed the scabbard. He rapped the iron bars with it.
“It’s safe, so come down!”
“Which part? The cable? Or the boy you’ve got pinned under your knee? Both look highly suspicious.”
“Both are safe. And as you can see, he’s alive. He looks like he needs urgent treatment, though.”
A grumbling voice came from above. “Fine, guess I have no choice but to go down!” Loud enough to be heard. The tone made it clear he was only complying under protest. Bin grinned. This was why he preferred dwarves over fellow Eleim. Regardless of how long they had lived in the Heavens, their kind feared heights. Yet they weren’t the sort to turn their backs on the injured. Indifference was one thing you rarely saw from a dwarf. Descending once more via the hook handle, another guest dropped into Nathan’s cell. The dwarf, trembling the entire way down, tumbled through the door Bin had left open. The landing was far rougher than planned, but the dwarf scrambled to his feet before Bin could even offer a hand. The view straight down had been too terrifying. The floor wasn’t stone or wood but a metal grate. Through the gaps, the abyss yawned thousands of meters below. The dwarf looked around in horror, then finally blurted out what he could no longer hold back.
“Quite malicious, isn’t it?”
The place where they had thrown Nathan was a massive iron cage shaped like a birdcage, affixed to the outer wall of the flying arena—a very special room where one could feel the sky against one’s skin. It wasn’t the only one. Cage-shaped enclosures with ceiling entrances hung in a long row like laundry. Most were empty, but a few contained rattling skeletons. Whenever the heavy wind swept through the clouds, the iron structures swayed like cathedral bells. The unobstructed view of the breathtaking drop beneath the floor was an added touch. Thanks to it, the occupants could fully savor the freezing cold of high altitude, violent motion sickness, and the terror of dangling three kilometers above the ground.
“They say only unfortunate gladiators who’ve earned the owner’s ire—regardless of race—end up here. The heat from the airship keeps them from freezing to death, so they just slowly go mad instead.”
“I can never understand the tastes of you long-ears— That wasn’t aimed at you. It just slipped out.”
The dwarf swallowed his words in a hurry. Bin looked puzzled for a moment before realizing the situation and forcing the friendliest smile he could manage. Bin had no intention of reporting him, but if he did, the dwarf could face execution. “No, it’s fine. I imagine this boy feels much the same way.”
“That’s right, you long-eared bastard.”
The dwarf flinched at the suppressed groan. “So get your knee off my head.”
“All right. Now stay still—this is the important part.”
The dwarf had already repeated the same words fourteen times, but Nathan decided not to complain. He was far too grateful, and besides, he was nervous. The nameless dwarf’s skill was almost magical. Yet his hands trembled violently, perhaps because he was aware of the abyss beneath their feet. The work itself was swift as the wind and so precise it seemed beautiful, but the uncontrollable tremor in those hands remained unsettling. There was no telling when a piece might be driven into Nathan’s flesh. Still, it would probably be all right. Nathan stared in fascination as he tried moving his newly attached hand. Just a little. The plate gauntlet twitched in response to his will. It looked like a prosthetic at first glance, but it was far more than that. It was an entirely new hand made of dozens of joints and thousands of components.
“I told you to stay still—!”
A small vibration sent parts cascading down. The assembly from the little finger to the wrist ligament collapsed in a shower. Bin hurriedly spread a cloth to catch the falling pieces. Given the structure of the floor, anything that dropped would be lost forever. This was already the third time it had happened, yet Bin chose not to complain. He figured he would have been just as amazed in Nathan’s position. The dwarf, however, had reached his limit. Rolling up the parchment blueprint, he smacked Nathan over the head with it.