This wasn’t a nightmare one could wake up from. The smoke from the flames, the ash, and the pained screams of his people surrounded Jadian everywhere he turned. His once bright, green eyes, dulled by the images of burnt and moulded corpses lying scattered around, were disregarded. His small legs began running and running, his eyes widening as he came across more of the destruction.

“Capture the young children left!” A sinister, gravelly voice ordered, dispersing the white and red uniformed soldiers across the village. However, other than Jadian, there were no children left. Hearing this, Jadian dove behind a small alleyway situated between two abandoned houses. The young, raven-haired boy held his mouth so as not to make a sound. Tears of terror and frustration soon welled up in the young boy’s eyes as his legs slowly shook. Why him? Why was his village targeted? The sound of machines moving around reached his ears, and he quickly began running again. Jadian’s lungs were hurting, his throat was scratchy, and his tear-filled eyes were burning. He needed to get back to his house. He had to make sure his family was okay. The young boy kept running, ducking soldiers, and running again. It ached. His whole body ached, and he wanted nothing but to sleep in his bed and be done with this nightmare. A nightmare he had been stuck in for three whole days. Witnessing no end to the pillaging, massacres, and horrors his village was subjected to was breaking his mind slowly. After running for a while, he finally reached his small cottage home and gasped in shock as he stared at his home ablaze.

“Mama! Papa!” He screamed out, rushing to the burning and broken home. Broken wood lay scattered all over the place, and Jadian tried his best to move it all, hissing each time the hot wood scorched his palms.

“Jadi.” His mother called out weakly. His mother’s voice beckoned him forth, and there she lay underneath piles of burning wood. The ten-year-old rushed to her side and tried his best to lift up the wood, but his tiny body held no strength to do so.

"Stop, Jadi; there’s no hope for me.” His mother spoke. She began to cough out blood as she weakly looked up at her crying son.

“I’m going to save you. I swear, mama, I will.” He kept chanting, trying to remove the wood from her legs.

“Stop Jadi!” She yelled weakly. “You need to save yourself.” His mother begged.

“But mama!” Jadian tried to argue. However, his raven-haired mother softly smiled as she shook her head.

“You need to go now. Please leave.” She begged again. Jadian slowly looked up, trying to locate his father.

“Where’s papa?” He asked, unable to locate him anywhere. His mother gritted her teeth before biting her inner cheek. Hot tears began to fall from his eyes.

“That man is not your father,” she said slowly. Jadian looked down at his mother with wide and confused eyes.

“What do you mean? What are you saying? Where is father?" He questioned his mother frantically.

“That man is a traitor!” She screeched before coughing up more blood. “He’s the cause of all this. Money, greed, and lust are what drive that man. It is also what drove that man." She continued screeching, slowly driving herself to madness. Once she calmed down, however, she looked up at her son one last time. “You need to go now. Go on and be safe, my sweet, sweet child.” She spoke, her eyes softening. Jadian began to sob, rubbing his eyes with the sleeve of his brown tunic. The rest of the house began falling apart, further crashing down on his mother’s body until she was almost completely covered.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“Go Jadian.” Her final words were fully uttered, pushing Jadian back to his feet.

“There, get him!” A group of soldiers exclaimed, pointing at Jadian’s retreating frame. In no time, he was surrounded. The young boy turned around in his spot, unable to find a way to escape.

The splash of cold water awoke the young man from his nightmare, and his green eyes glared at the large, stubby man standing before his bed, looking down at him with an air of arrogance and the stench of death.

“Time to wake up, Jadian. You got a job to do, and the monsters won’t die themselves.” The old man spoke, his croaky voice grating on Jadian’s ears. The young man had to deal with eight years worth of this man’s voice. Jadian sat up on the hard bed he knew would pull apart his spine one of these days. The stubby old man laughed dryly and left, leaving Jadian in the dark, dingy room, where a dozen monster fighters lay asleep. The soaking feeling of his shirt and blanket became unbearable, so he fully got out of bed and headed to the shit-scented bathroom.

[Entering ID 15540: Jadian Zaela]

‘Does it always have to do that?’ The young man thought his annoyance was already growing. 2920 days worth of fighting. 2920 days of trying to escape, and 2920 days of being watched. Surveillance magic coated every inch of this dungeon, watching and tracking every fighter's movement. The bathroom lights lit up the dark blue walls, leading him to the rusting sink and cracked singular mirror. Jadian slowly placed a calloused palm on the mirror, and a single toothbrush and toothpaste fell out.

“Hurry it up in there!” The stubby old man yelled.

‘Why’s he back?’ Jadian thought bitterly. Nonetheless, the young fighter hastily brushed his teeth and exited the bathroom.

[Exiting ID 15540: Jadian Zaela]

“You have six B-class monsters waiting for you. If you fail to kill any of those monsters and bring in the money, your punishment will be severe.” The stubby old man spoke, his balding grey hair shining under the neon blue bathroom sign. Jadian knew of the punishment. His first few years as a child fighter were riddled with failures, and in turn, he was tortured. Without a word, Jadian walked past the old man and towards his black fur cloak. He placed the cloak on and walked out into the large, white-lit halls, filled with fighters and their masters alike. A fighter's job was simple. Fight monsters in the arena and entertain the onlookers while bringing in the money from the bets made on you.

Children. That’s what they all were once. Children from all over the continent whose lives were destroyed by a single entity. The Kixulian Empire. And then there was his father. A man he thought he knew. A man he thought could do no wrong in his eyes, but the image of his dying mother and burning village said otherwise. Shaking his head, Jadian pushed those thoughts back into his mind.

“Jadian!” A soft voice called out. The green-eyed man turned around and smiled. Well, he tried to.

“Amia.” He greeted the young woman. A brown-skinned woman with a slicked back and curled pink hair. She was wearing a turtleneck white kirtle with a diamond-shaped cut around the chest. Her bright pink eyes gleamed upon reaching him. Amia Arale. The bright spot in a dark tunnel. She had been a fighter longer than he had, and she became the only friend he'd ever have. She, too, fell victim to the Kixulian Empire. Her entire kingdom was erased from existence. How she survived that ordeal boggled his mind. Yet again, he did too.

“You’re on your way to the monsters, huh?” She asked. The man nods, cracking his neck to loosen some of the tension in his neck.

“Have you finished your job?” He then asked. Amia nodded before clasping her right arm. Soon, a solemn expression coated her face. “I wasn’t so lucky last time.” She muttered. The burns on her right arm still stung, leaving behind a bitter memory. Just as Jadian could utter words of comfort, the white halls became red, and the blaring sound of the alarm rang through the halls.

[ALERT!! Code 606: Monsters Free From The Arena]

The fighters, as well as Amia and Jadian, looked at the hologram warning sign with wide eyes.

What the hell was going on?