It was a night at a raucous pub. Three men walked out of it on their unsteady feet. They swayed to the right and the left, dancing around the street. Though, weirdly, there was always a distance between them. It was unknown if it was intentional, or unintentional, or even instinctual. Maybe was the sword hanging from the waist the reason.

One of the two was rough and burly. His skin tanned. The other one was slimmer and had whiter skin. Of the two, the rougher one grumbled to the swordsman, slurred, "Hey, Friedrich. You already know, His Highness is alive. We already paid the fine, why do you care about him so much?"

The swordsman gloomily swivelled the flask in his hand before he took a sip. Then he disheartened sighed, "You won't understand. You won't understand. You won't ever-"

Hearing him speak like this, the slimmer one snapped, "Shut up! You fucking killed our family. We don't understand? Yeah, I don't understand how one can be such a beast!"

The burly one blinked stunned. Usually, he and the swordsman quarrelled while the slimmer one calmed them down. He nodded his head, before noticing now wouldn't be the right time to give his consent, and swiftly shook his head. Then he said, "Hey, calm down-"

The eyes of the slimmer one glimmered azure, "I should calm down? I should calm down?! To hell, no! You just moved on! Did you forget your old family after you a new love? To hell with that!"

The rougher one shout at the slimmer one, "Hey!"

But it didn't matter, as the slimmer one already turned left, and walked away. Noticeably, a lot less wobbly as compared to the time as they walked out of the pub. The swordsman shrugged, taking a further sip from his flask. Noticing the gaze of the burly one, he shrugged once again, "I believe I should go now."

The swordsman took the opposite direction of the slimmer ones, to the right. The burly one sighed, swaying straight further down the street. Their little group, it broke apart.

The swordsman mindlessly stumbled further. He didn't care where he was going, he had too much on his mind. His head throbbed, and he saw several suspicious men carrying bags. Holding his hand against his head, he muttered, "Am I seeing things again?"

The men turned around, seeing him. They clicked their tongue and rushed at him. After taking a further sip from his flask, the swordsman drew his sword, grinning, "Let's play hero!"

The swordsman lightly swayed to the right, a dagger stabbed left to his throat. He hit the dagger wielder with his free hand and slashed with the swords at another one. It was parried with another sword. Swiftly he delivered a kick at a third one before he jumped at the dagger wielder.

The dagger wielder reacted faster than the swordsman expected and wounded his arm, but in return, the swordsman decapitated his head. The swordsman froze. This was all real. The sword wielder used the moment to ram the swordsman to the ground.

Laying on the ground, the swordsman's eyes glowed red. He rolled on the ground to avoid the sword which came after his life and jumped up. Then he quickly parried another slash for his life. The one he kicked away, came slamming him away. The sword fell from his hand.

The swordsman coughed and frightened scrambled after his sword. One second later, he ended another life but it was useless. The sword wielder held his sword against his neck. He inquired, "Who are you?"

"Just a passing-by mercenary."

"Oh, then there is nothing to worry."

After saying that, the sword wielder slammed with the flat side of the sword down. The swordsman dodged as he abruptly fell to the ground and swept his leg across the ground. The sword wielder fell, the swordsman stabbed down with his sword.

The swordsman plumed to the ground, groaning, "I am too old for such actions."

Later, he stood up, rubbing his neck. Then he stretched himself before he walked to the carried bags. He opened one, and his eyes widened. He couldn't believe his eyes. How could he be here? Furthermore, in a bag? Unbelieving he muttered, "Your Highness…."

Quickly, after the swordsman regained his composure, he glanced around. Behind him was a man, smiling at him with his eyes shining pitch black. He remarked, "Did you see enough? Yes? Thanks. Please go to sleep now!"

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The world turned black. The swordsman lost his consciousness. The man pulled another bag out of his pocket and squeezed the swordsman inside. Then he closed the opened bag. After everything has ended, he patted his hands and walked into the darkness. Soon, another group of suspicious men were seen carrying bags….

Libertas woke up in a dilapidated room on the floor. There were a table, a chair, and two doors. On the table were a plate of slices of bread, a bottle of water, and a note. The doors were to the left and the right of him. He sat up, laid his head on top of his hand, and sighed, "I survived…. Do I need to live another day?"

Libertas shook his head, standing up, "Don't think too much. Didn't you already live your whole life like this? A day more, a day less won't kill you. A torturing day, or an agonizing death?"

The hands grabbed his throat, gradually tightening around it. Then suddenly, the hands slid down. Libertas sat down at the chair, took a slice of bread, and ate as if nothing had happened. After taking a sip from the bottle, he read the note.

"Hello. If you are reading this, you should be calm enough to understand your circumstances. But to be sure, let me tell you. You were captured to take part in a life and death battle. Win, life, and fight. Lose, die, and suffer in agony. However, you don't need to lose hope. We will gift you a law, and even strengthen it every single time you win. Fight hard, and win ten times, then you shall be freed from this cage."

Uncaring, Libertas laid the note back and continued to eat the slice of bread. Occasionally, he took a sip or two from the bottle. Finally, he finished eating. After a while of mindlessly starring at the roof, the eyes closed. The hands helped the legs atop the chair, swiftly crossing them. Then he relaxed his body and entered his Imaginary World.

As always, there was a red veiling covering the sight of a fuzzy form, a sweet metallic smell still lingered in the air, and like last time, it was lighter, but weirdly enough, though the veil wasn't thicker, it felt heavier than last time. Once again, he sensed out to the fuzzy form.

There was the butcher with the orc's belly, the general appearance of his, and with features of the swordsman blended in. The white apron hung loosely from his body. The red gloves laxly covered the hands. One of them held firmly on a cleaver, pointing at something.

This time, the butcher didn't smile idly. The crooked eyes, too, didn't shine with insanity. The whole expression of the butcher didn't express anything, except indifference. Even the pigs at his feet seemed listless, as no squeak sounded from their snouts. Besides that, the pixelation of the pigs was done shoddily.

The cleaver pointed at a location where the red veil was thinner than elsewhere. It nearly dissipated, but still this time it didn't, unlike last time. There wasn't even the fuzzy form at its centre any more.

A door creaked, Libertas opened his eyes, back in reality. A man in a black suit stood behind a door. The man smiled, greeting him, "Your Highness, welcome. You already read the note by now, right?"

Libertas stood up and nodded at the man. He continued after seeing the nod, "Well, in that case, my work should be easy. Your battle will start soon. Now, come with me, select your weapon and armour. Then get ready to fight for your life."

The man gestured for Libertas to follow him before he turned around, walking away. After Libertas gazed at the man's back for a moment, he followed. Though he didn't like the treatment and attitude here, he can't change anything. He can only endure it.

The walls were made of stones with moss covering the most part. Similarly, vines could be seen everywhere. Though the floor was well maintained, occasionally, there was the one or the other crack on the visible stones. Soon they entered another room.

It was full of different types of weapons. There were long or small, light or heavy, sharp or blunt. The man asked, "What type of weapon do you use?"

Libertas didn't speak for a while before he stated, "Sword."

Then the man led Libertas further inside, only stopping near a door, likely the exit. Or to be precise, the entrance to the death battle. The man told him, "Please, choose your sword quickly. Your battle will start soon. If you haven't chosen until then, you will go out there without one."

Libertas nodded. Following that, he picked carelessly one of the smaller swords up. Feeling it was on the heavier side, he laid it back and picked up the next one. After he picked the third sword, he swung it around. Similarly, he put it back. Moving on like this, he found a sword in which he believed that he could handle the recoil.

"I have chosen it. Shall I go out of that door?"

"Yes, but not now. Wait until I tell you to go out."

Once more, nodded Libertas at him. Time passed with no one speaking. A smiling man and a stoic child, standing in a room full of weapons, it indeed looked strange.

"Your Highness, you can go and fight now."

"Okay."

Libertas opened the door, walked through. Behind him, the door creaked to close, then it clicked. Standing in front of the door, Libertas saw a giant coliseum. Though there was a huge spectator room, only a few were occupied. Under one of the occupants was the young master.

Libertas gazed up. He couldn't see the sky. Rough boulders blocked his vision. On an elevated stand stood a man in a similar suit like the man earlier. He was holding a piece of wood in front of his mouth. It resembled a globe with a striking pattern carved on top of it. He spoke into the wooden globe.

"…worry. At the end of his ordeal, he either becomes a high-end slave or spends the rest of life here! Let's move on. Don't you wonder who will become the first opponent of His Highness?"

A door opposite from Libertas opened, revealing a scrawny boy. He held a dagger in each of his hands. Similar to Libertas, he looked up to see the man on the elevated stand. He continued to speak, introducing the scrawny boy, "A pitiful kid picked up from the slum. He lived his whole life with the dogs, and as such had a fitting law, rabies. Now, let us enjoy how a king fends off a rabid dog!"

Immediately the scrawny boy rushed at Libertas. His eyes glimmered in a white which was faintly tainted rosy.