Gran Torte—the royal capital of the world. Packed into caged carriages, all of us slaves were immediately shipped out of the camp and into the grand capital city.

With the sounds and smells of festivities in the air, it seems today is a big day for the people of Gran Torte. Multicoloured stalls and shop fronts can be seen poking out behind the massive crowds lining the streets, filled with excited people pointing and gawking at each carriage slowly making its way down the stone-paved roads.

Riding along in one of the carriages, I wave outside the bars to all the people on the other side.

Fwah! I’ve never seen so many people before! People of all different types, races, and cultures—all out and about and having a fun time.

As I flex my pecs for all the cute girls among the crowds, somebody taps me on the shoulder from inside our cage.

“Leader...”

“Oh! Buttercup! I didn’t notice you were in here too! What’s up?”

It's Buttercup. The cute centaur slave I was feeding every day back at the camp. The last time we spoke, she didn't seem very happy with me because I interrupted her rebelling by putting her back in her cage. I had to do it though. It was for my own good.

“I’m sorry, Leader. It’s all my fault,” she says. “I wanted to apologize to you for what happened back then, but...” Her voice trails off as she looks away guiltily for some reason.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. It’s cool.”

Fweh? She wants to apologize to me? I don’t really get it, but I like Buttercup. If she’s not upset with me anymore then I’m not gonna complain!

"B-but, Leader... Are you sure? Is it really okay? It's my fault your whole plan failed and we got into this mess, isn't it? When you put me in that cage again, you told me ‘today is a bad day’ and that we should do it ‘some other time’... You knew the Queen and her soldiers were going to arrive, and that’s why you threw us back in those cages. You knew they were coming and you wanted to protect us. If only I had paid more attention to you... If only I had waited another day...”

I still don’t get it. And I still have absolutely no idea what she’s talking about. But if I can smooth things over with her, then all is good again.

“I told you, it’s cool!” I reassure her, giving the side of her thick, furry back a friendly slap. “It all worked out in the end anyway!”

“It all worked out..?” Her eyes go wide as if realizing something important. “Don’t tell me, this was all part of your plan too? Leader... Just how far ahead did you plan this? Your foresight can only be compared to the Queen herself...”

Yup! Still absolutely no idea! As far as talking nonsense goes, Buttercup might even give Bran a run for his money. Hm? Speaking of Bran, I haven't seen him or Mei-Mei ever since the Spire collapsed and we all got split up. I hope they're alright and having as much fun as I am.

Eventually, our carriages come to a stop and, bound by chains, we’re let out of the cages one by one. Stepping out, I’m immediately met with a grand sight...

In the middle of this city, high marble walls stretch up towards the sky, curving inwards to form an almost dome-like structure with no roof. Wild cheers and excited screams echo out from inside and, even from out here, I can feel a tinge of bloodlust hanging in the air. This is a place where fighting happens. An arena!

Fwah~! This feels kind of nostalgic! It’s like my first day at the Spire again!

Escorted single-file into the building, we’re immediately taken down into the lower levels beneath the arena. Already waiting for us, large cages line the room, most of them already filled with ragged, hollow-eyed people. Finding an empty one, I’m quickly shoved inside by some knights in silver armour.

Fwah! That’s right! It wasn’t just our camp that gets to fight, it’s all of them! Slaves from all across the land have been gathered here today to slap each other around while thousands of people come to cheer us on! A slave tournament! Where the winning slaves get to be free and the owner who trained them gets a big payout! Speaking of owners...

Idly passing the time with some simple one-fingered vertical push-ups, a short middle-aged man in a red and white cap eventually shows up in front of my cage. Despite it being quite cool down here, sweat is already pouring down his chubby face, soaking through the entire top half of his shirt.

“Fwah! Mash! What’s up? Are we ready to fight yet? I wanna punch something!”

It’s Mash. Technically, he’s the one who’ll be entering the tournament, not me. But I’ll be the one fighting, of course. It’s a tournament for slave trainers to show off their best and strongest slaves by pitting them against one another to see which one of them has what it takes to be called a slave master. Most of these guys have whole teams of super-strong slaves at their disposal, but Mash only has me. It doesn't matter though, because I'm gonna win it all anyway!

“Ah, Pepper. Sorry about the cage. Apparently it’s a requirement for now...”

“Don’t sweat it! What about the fighting though? When are we up?”

“Oh, right. We’ll be up later today...”

“Fwah! So soon!”

“Y-yeah...”

Something’s up. Mash is a lot sweatier than usual and he looks kinda nervous too.

“Come on,” I tell him. “What happened to all that hype from last time we spoke? You’re gonna be the very best, right? Like no one ever was! What’s up?”

“A-ah, sorry. It’s just that... There are a lot more slave trainers entering this tournament than they expected. They’re having trouble fitting all the slaves in so they figured they’d start weeding people out early.”

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

“And?”

“The preliminary round will be a team-based battle royale. Ten teams of seven will enter the arena, and only one team will be able to pass on to the next round. Since you're my only slave, it'll be you against more than sixty other people..."

Sixty other people...? That’s...

“Fwahaha! That sounds great! What’s the problem? You worry too much, Mash! I’ll be fine!”

Seeing my bursting confidence as I laugh away cheerfully, Mash still doesn’t drop the nervous look.

“I figured you’d say that, but that’s not the problem. The problem is that the trainers will be a part of it. Ten teams of seven. One trainer and six of his slaves. If one of the trainers gets tagged by a slave, then they lose and they’ll have to leave the tournament. It’s a game where trainers have to manage their team to protect themselves while also sending some out to attack the other trainers. Since you’re my only slave, you’ll have to tag other trainers while also protecting me somehow...”

“Fwahaha—! Ah. Wait, that sounds hard.”

“Yeah! That’s what I’m saying!”

Hmm. A game where I have to fight while protecting somebody else? I guess it’s not much different from dragging Mei-Mei and Bran through the Spire.

“Ah, it should be fine!” I reassure Mash. “Don’t worry about it! I’ve got this!”

“R-really? If you’re that confident...”

“Mm! Now get outta here and go take a bath or something. Come get me when it’s time.”

“Y-yeah, alright.” And with that, Mash waddles away, looking somewhat less nervous than he was before he showed up. “Maybe I’ll look through the rejected section just in case though...”

Hm? Rejected section? What’s that? I guess I’ll ask him about it later.

As I continue passing the time by working out, the occasional slaver or two will pass by the cages, casually chatting away with one another. My ears prick up at one of the more interesting conversations that catch my attention.

“What happened to that dwarf slave we had? The sick-looking one with the smart mouth?”

“No idea. Went missing back at the camp after we had her fix up that troll. Little shit must’ve escaped somehow.”

“Damn. And the troll? That thing was messed up pretty bad.”

“Funnily enough, it’s still alive. That dwarf must’ve fixed it up before she scrammed. The annoying thing though is that it’s useless now. Doesn’t do nothing no more. Just sits there. It’s started to smell a bit too, and some of the other guys have said they heard weird squelching noises coming from inside it. It's basically just a waste of space now anyway so we left it in the rejected section.”

Oh?! Trolls, huh? I wonder if I'll get to fight any in this tournament! That sounds like it could be fun!

“Oh, and have you seen that weirdo in the cloak yet? The one who keeps telling people she’s a little girl underneath?”

“Wait, that ridiculously massive one, right? Like, eight feet tall? The one with the weird laugh? I saw her heading down to the lower levels just a while ago. What's up with that?"

“Ah, just ignore her. I don’t know what her deal is but she’s with Thea. Just let her pass.”

“S-sure...”

Oh? Thea? As in Cinnamon? I wonder what happened to her...? Wherever she is, I hope she’s not still mad at me. I like Cinnamon.

Sticking to my one-finger vertical push-ups, I diligently work my way through each one of my fingers as the time ticks by. Suddenly, a familiar voice calls out from the other side of my cage.

“B-big sis Pepper!”

A fluffy, white-haired wolfgirl appears before me, pushing her little face up against the bars of my new cell.

“Fwah! Biscuit! I missed you! Well, I mean, I would have if it wasn’t for the whole Curse thing. What’s up?”

Now that she's shown herself, all the memories of my beloved pudding angel come flooding back to me. And from what I remember, Biscuit isn't a slave like me. She must've sneakily followed behind the carriages again and slipped down here in the basement of the arena.

“M-mm, I missed you too,” she says, sweeping her tail behind her. “Ah, s-sorry. That’s not what I came to tell you though...”

Like Mash, Biscuit looks really nervous as well for some reason.

“Hm? What’s up? Is it Bran? Did he poop himself again?”

“N-no, that’s not it... It’s... I think it’s best if you drop out of this t-tournament. I can find us another way to escape instead...”

“Fweh? Drop out?! Biscuit, I love you, but that’s a pretty big ask, you know?” Leaning down, I meet the small girl face-to-face. Her big yellow eyes flick away awkwardly, not wanting to meet mine. “Why?”

“I—I can’t tell you...”

I lean in even closer, pushing my face up against the bars as well. “Why?”

“... Because if I tell you, you won’t want to drop out anymore.”

There's a reason Biscuit wants me to drop out of this tournament, but she won't tell me what it is because it'll make me want to drop out even less, huh? I guess that's a real dilemma. I can see it's really stressing her out.

“Just tell me,” I say. “I can’t promise you I’ll drop out, but I’ll at least promise to listen.”

Thinking to herself for a moment, she eventually stutters out her explanation.

“There’s someone in the b-basement of the stadium, on the lowest level... Someone I don’t want you to f-fight. I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t want anyone to g-get hurt...”

“Me get hurt?” A wide grin spreads across my face. “Just who, or what, is hiding down in that basement that could hurt me, Biscuit?”

“... They’re— Ah!”

Before she can answer, Biscuit suddenly rushes away, leaving just as quickly as she arrived.

“Hey, Pepper. What are you doing? Who were you talking to?” Approaching my cage, Mash stares down at me from the other side, my face still pressed up against the bars.

“... Fweh? Was I talking to somebody?” Standing back up, I tilt my head to the side in confusion. “I don’t remember.”

If I was talking to somebody, I can’t remember who that somebody was or what we were even talking about. Though I do feel a little conflicted for some reason...

“Well, anyway...” Mash lifts the cap from his head with a wet squelch. Wringing it between his hands, a torrent of greasy sweat oozes out in globs and drops to the floor. Placing it back on his head, he moves to unlock my cage. “We’re up next...”

“Fwah! It’s finally—! Hm. I thought I told you to take a bath...”

“I-I did. I just sweat a lot when I’m nervous. I can’t help it...”

“Ah, it’s fine, I guess. There’ll be a bath waiting for us in the arena anyway.”

“E-eh? What are you talking about...?”

Stepping out from my cage, I slam a fist against my palm and shoot him a wide grin.

“A bloodbath, of course!”