The number of times Jack had passed out started to annoy him.

The pain and numbness in his head blinded him at first when he opened his eyes again.

His back was against the cold wall. The wet ground could still be felt through a layer of straw, making his lower body shaken and discomfort.

Jack blinked several times and shook his head to regain his eyesight. He and the rest of the survivors, including Abraham and Robert, were locked in an iron cell. Moss and mold covered the surface around them. Rats dashed back and forth in front of the iron bar, their shadows flashed on the wall by the dim light from the lamb on the table at the door to the stairway. There sat two guards sitting on stools in their dirty patched-up animal skin clothes, sipping the bottle of wine in their hands, and looking down at the prisoners.

Jack tried to move himself as the shock came back to him, making him cough out blood. He felt thirsty. The electrical convulsion had stripped him of his body liquid.

Robert crouched to him, put his arm around Jack, and straightened him up.

“Here. Drink, Jack!”

The carpenter carefully brought a cup of water to his lips. It was dirty and stank, but Jack didn’t mind one bit. He leaned his head back and gulped them all down.

A knock on the iron bar startled Robert, making him drop the cup and spill it on the floor. Jack almost choked the water out, his throat and lung aching in objection, but he still tried his best to swallow it back in. He reckoned every drop worth a fortune in this situation.

The guards satisfyingly laughed, seeing Robert stare at them.

They raised and cheered their cups, shaking them and taunting the man.

“Want some, old man?”

Robert gritted his teeth and stayed quiet. He turned around and carefully stroked Jack’s back, seeing how much of a hard time the boy was having.

“Come on,” he said.

His father’s arm movement came with a clanking sound, making Jack realize the cuffs on Robert’s wrists. It looked like it was made from normal gray stone with a keyhole on its surface. There was light underneath, where it touched the skin. Jack looked around and saw the same pair of cuffs on everyone. He didn’t need anyone telling him to know it was a device to restain their power. This meager cage alone could only contain cattle and farmers.

Jack was still struggling with his breathing when he tried to push himself to a better position. Abraham turned his back against his son, his body looming in the shadow, much like a beast in chains. He couldn’t stare at Jack’s eyes as his own wandered at the stairs, expecting something. Perhaps, he was just staring hopelessly at nothing. The thieves wouldn’t let them go, not until they had squeezed out every drop of value.

The rest remained silent. They cowered, some biting nails, others rubbing heads. A few acted like statues, emotionless as if this was how things should be. Jack saw in them the expression he had been running from years ago. When one was experienced enough to know his ending, they tended to become apathetic, even when facing death. Only when facing the cruelty of the adventurer life, or maybe the cruelty of this world itself, did one show his true self.

“So boring!” One of the guards said.

He stood up, revealing his skinny and lengthy body. His head was mostly skin and skull with a pair of bulging eyes. He clumsily walked toward the cell, knocking the bottle on the bars.

“Want some games, Bud?” He asked the other one, who was still sitting.

“What game?”

“A little contact?”

“Give me a break,” Bud snorted annoyingly. “I can shove your long arm up your ass to your mouth for fun, Mantis.”

“No, you idiot,” Mantis grumbled, pointing the bottle at the prisoners. “Them.”

“Ahh, ohh.”

Bud finally understood Mantis’s idea. His eyes immediately brightened up, and his round face stretched out his smile from one ear to another.

“Good idea,” he exclaimed. “Very good idea. I’m starting to get sick of this place!”

Jack frowned at the way these bandits exchanged their words. The people in the cell were also unnerved by what they imagined was going to happen to them.

“Then, I pick that one,” Mantis pointed at a low-ranking Herald that Edward once told Jack about.

Edward! You cowardly bastard.

Bud leaned forward, opening up a despicable smile on his face.

“The old one!”

“Oh,” Mantis was impressed, “so petty. He’s so tiny.”

“But his eyes are bigger than mine. That annoys me.”

Mantis looked at his mate questionably.

“You too,” Bud said.

Mantis shrugged. He couldn’t care less about the rising horror on the face of the two selected victims.

Jack held Robert’s shaking hand tight. His kind face grew pale, the pupils in his eyes shaking and his breathing disrupted. Jack was speechless. No word could be spoken, for no one deserved to die here.

As Mantis opened the cell, Jack could see a spark in Abraham’s eyes, his fury brightening up the dim light of the cuff.

Seeing this, the bandit gave Abraham a knee to the face. There was the sound of broken bones, and Abraham fell to the ground, his head hitting the dirt. Even so, his heavy breathing, mixed with his own body liquid, could still be heard echoing on the walls.

“Robert,” Abraham roared. “Don’t die!”

Abraham’s words covered the mercenaries with a dreadful atmosphere. But then, their thoughts quickly wandered off, for nobody would stand up for them here. They didn’t even bother saying anything to the Herald being dragged out of the cell, who was even more visibly shaken than Robert. He hadn’t expected his first mission to turn out like this as his clacking teeth stopped him from actually saying anything that made sense.

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“Damn it,” Mantis cursed, “I got myself some useless trash.”

He slapped the man twice to silence him.

Not letting them have their way with him, Robert stood up and shakingly followed behind. His hand slipped from Jack’s grip on his own account. He had to live.

Abraham was still facing the floor when Robert passed by, his hand bleeding from the wound on his fingertips. Nobody knew if he was blaming himself for his own arrogance or if he was just trying to suppress his ever-growing anger, waiting for the moment to strike back.

Robert and the young mercenary were pushed to the space by the guard’s table.

Bud stood up and excitingly looked around, his arms outstretching, his face smirking.

“Gentlemen. Tonight, we welcome the two warriors entering the grand finale of fighting to the death.”

He paused, letting the word “death” simmer in the air and the prisoners’ hearts. After a while, he pointed at the two unlucky victims.

“The rules are simple. Who survives gets to live, who dies…, well, I don’t need to finish that, right boys?”

Mantis smiled, slowly getting back to his seat, waiting for the upcoming performance.

“Now,” Bud shouted, “let’s begin!”

Robert and the mercenary warily looked at each other, fully understanding the hesitation of the other.

They stood their ground for a while until Bud screamed, startling them.

“Damn cowards, I said start. Are you deaf?”

Having said that, he jumped forward and gave the two a punch in the face, knocking them to the wall on the other side. They were but dummies without their power. As everything took place, no sound came from the cell.

“Now, I have justifyingly given each of you an equal punch,” he snorted. “If you’re still not listening, I will hang your guts up for the dogs in the cell to smell until they rotten up.”

Robert stood up, wiping off the blood on his chin.

“What’s your name, kid?” Robert asked.

“Ardun,” the mercenary answered as he also stood up.

“I’m really sorry,” Robert sobbed for a moment, “Ardun.”

The old man lunged forward and threw a kick at Ardun’s face. Panicked, Ardun tried to block it instead of dodging it. Robert took advantage to close in and continuously attacked his opponent’s exposed weak points. Rib, then temple, then belly; Robert’s barrage seemed to be on the edge of knocking Ardun to the ground, but the young man still diligently stood on his feet.

Bud laughed satisfyingly beside Mantis, shouting in enjoyment.

“As usual, a mana crystal?”

“Hell no, why don’t you go rob someone else?” Mantis grumbled.

“You maniac, what do you think we do for a living?”

As the tbandits were arguing, Robert threw a right-hand hook. Ardun lowered his arms and slightly leaned his head back to dodge it. The punch barely touched his nose as the young man did a counter sweep to knock his older opponent to the ground.

Seeing the move, Mantis stood up and waved his arms cheerfully.

“Outta boy. Beat that old ass up!”

Ardun, as if being encouraged, jumped on top of Robert, stopping the old man from regaining his footing. The same barrage was returned; face, rib, and belly.

The carpenter’s groan was cut off many times, his breathing blocked by the blows. He tried to break free, but Ardun always held him down. His eyes were full of fear, and Ardun saw it. For a moment, the mercenary hesitated.

Robert took the chance and gathered all of his remaining strength, immediately swinging the stone cuff on his wrist at Ardun’s head. The cracking of bones echoed the dungeon once again. The left side of Ardun’s face was covered with blood, splashing out like a small stream. Robert was startled as the hot dirty blood splattered in his mouth and all over the floor, but quickly regained himself.

Ardun faced the shocking and terrible consequences of his action as the bleeding was stripping away the last of his awareness. Fear consumed him, realizing how mistaken he had been in showing a brief of mercy. He had had his chance and he had let it slip. Ardun turned his body around and saw Robert clumsily dragging himself up. The stun slowly blurred everything around him. Still, he needed to get up and beat the crap out of this damn old man, no mercy this time.

But Ardun couldn’t. The hit had critically injured him.

Now, Robert could see the fear that he had shown earlier in the young man’s eyes. His heart ached, disgusted with himself. He wanted to vomit right on the spot, but the pain all over his body distracted him.

“What’s going on here?” A rough voice sounded from the stairs.

The two bandits were startled. Their arguing stopped as the leader walked in.

His bulky body was especially noticeable in the cramped space. He was bigger than everyone in the room. His big rough hand, which seemed like it could squeeze the head of its enemy even without using mana, held Jack’s small bag.

The leader was followed by Rat in a short-sleeved shirt and another man in a cumbersome robe. Beneath the clothing, a number of vials and small pouches hanging on his belt could be seen.

A Maester, Jack thought. His equipment was like that of Julia, always carrying several types of poisons or potions around.

Bud slowly made his way toward the leader, his hands fondling each other awkwardly in fear.

“We were just having some fun, boss!”

The leader scanned the room. His face frowned hard.

“We could sell them for some more pay, you idiots!” He scolded.

For a second there, everyone in the cell, including Robert and Ardun, was given a glimpse of surviving. Being sold into slavery was still being alive, and as long as they lived, there was still hope.

Mantis’s next words gave them the chills.

“But boss,” Mantis said. “We pick our toys carefully, ya know? Who would pay for an old lower Herald? And the kid over there is a rookie. Isn’t it better to just finish them here? Save us some food cost and guards time, ya know?”

The leader now closely observed the battle and he figured the same. Robert was worthless, too old, with no potential at all. As for Ardun, the kid was an amateur. Nobody would take these two, not for a hefty price.

“Well, and who should I thank for capturing these priceless prisoners?” He angrily said.

With a wave of the hand, the bandit leader signaled to continue the fighting.

Bud and Mantis gave their seats to their boss and the Maester.

“Can I still bet?” Rat was quick to join in.

“Everything is settled already. What the crap do you bet on?” Bud mocked.

Robert turned his attention back toward Ardun. His eyes darkened, his feet couldn’t stop now.

The young adventurer tried to get back on his knee and looked around. He couldn’t see anything. Before him was now a blinding white thickening up like the milk cheese his mom used to give him. His tears started rolling as he leaned toward the sound footstep slowly closing in and stopping in front of him.

“I’m sorry,” Robert choked.

The carpenter put one hand on the top of the boy’s head, the other under his chin. A snap, followed by a crack, and a body dropped down.

Robert collapsed, his tears fell by the lifeless Ardun.

The bandits savagely laughed out loud. Their leader and the Maester smirked as if this was the least of their entertainment.

Robert left Ardun, stood up, and shakingly walked toward the cell. In his eyes were the color of tears, regret, and something broken. He had never wanted to take someone’s life. He was happy with never having to be an adventurer, never having to envy their wealth, power, and reputation. Living a peaceful life had always been his utmost desire. And now, he had just ended the life of someone the age of his son.

Robert looked to his master and then Jack to seek a response. Both gave him a nod, signaling he had done what he must.

Robert smiled, a smile of relief, as his head was severed by Mantis.

Bud clapped his hands to the sound of the rolling head on the floor.

“I did say to finish them here, didn’t I?” Mantis turned around, asking Bud, the bloody blade still in his hand.

Bud shrugged.

Mantis shrugged.

Jack watched the whole thing from the cover of the dark corner. Nobody thought he was worth anything. Therefore, he hadn’t been cuffed, allowing the notification in front of him to give him a chance.

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