The eleven of us left through the same stone door that Chella had used to take the slaves the previous night. As the previous sacrifices were led through, I could have sworn there were stairs leading into even deeper darkness.

However, when I walked into the shadows, I was met with a standard hallway lit by torchlight—not the balls of white energy floating in the dungeon area. The stone walls were covered with some sort of pinkish slime that dripped down its length like goo. Fortunately, there was no slime on the floor, which incidentally was clean of any blemishes. While everything else was stone, the flooring was made of a yellow-white marble material. It was so slick that I nearly slipped when Dralos suddenly stopped. Being at the back of the line, I had enough time to slow my momentum. Three of the others did not and collided with each other. The Dragonborne gave them an annoyed expression.

But then Chella came into view from further down the dark path, and all irritation left Dralos's face, replaced by anticipation. His yellow eyes lit up, and the scales along his body seemed to chitter, which was weird, even for a Dragonborne.

"Is it ready?" he asked, his voice trembling with obvious excitement. Chella, who usually wore a stoic expression, appeared almost somber, even sad. She hadn’t seemed the slightest bit upset at having sacrificed the three slaves the night before, so the fact that she looked like that now sent a wave of goosebumps through me.

“It is,” she responded, slamming the flat of her hand against an area of the wall devoid of slime, revealing the rectangular outline of a door. Before the new door had opened more than an inch, the walls of the tunnel began to shake from the overwhelming pressure of an inhuman roar deep into the new path.

“Come on, slaves,” Dralos said, gleefully shoving all of us into the pathway. “We’re trying something new for the Festival this year. Come meet Orpheus.” His smile was as wide as it was malicious.

At the far end of the hallway from which the roar reverberated, I could see a dim red pulse. The red light pulsed accompanied only seconds later by the deafening scream of Orpheus. It wasn’t until we reached the end of the hallway that I saw what exactly Orpheus and the red pulses were.

The hallway opened up to reveal a dilapidated chamber thick with the scent of mildew and decay. This room was made of marble like the outside floor, but here, even the walls were marble. Most were stained red with a seemingly endless amount of blood and gore. There were no other cells or prisoners aside from a single, solitary figure. Dense, heavy black manacles wrapped tightly around his wrists and continued up into the ceiling, so his arms were perpetually raised. Golden chains curled around each leg like snakes, so tight I could see dark purple bruises like spots on a cow. The golden chains did not connect to the ground; each end hung loosely to the side.

The solitary figure was not a man; that much was clear from the three large horns protruding from the top of his head and smaller spikes tracing down his spine. If he had been able to stand at his full height, I guessed he would have easily matched Chella. Eyes black as coal stared at the twelve of us, though his mouth stayed open in an ear-deafening scream. His face was a mask of exhaustion and despair, eyes hollow and empty as he stared at us. Black hair hung loose and unkempt around his face, plastered with sweat, dirt, and blood. The way he looked at us, at me, gave me the impression that any hope of escape he may have had was long since extinguished. His gray, almost translucent, skin flashed red again.

I watched in absolute horror as a gaunt man with more wrinkles lining his features than anyone I had ever seen removed a foot-long syringe from the horned man’s leg. Blue fluid filled the syringe’s barrel. The man moved over to a large gray desk where a small, crystal tube sat and slipped the syringe needle into it, before emptying out the blue contents into it. The room was silent except for the steady pouring of the fluid and the labored breathing of the captive.

After he finished his task, the gaunt man deigned to cast a glance our way and grinned when his soulless black eyes fell on Dralos. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought the man was a scholar by his lank form and glasses. The white coat that drooped down to his knees, however, indicated to me that this was likely a researcher of sorts.

“Ah, Dralos. I appreciate your speed in preparing some new test subjects,” the researcher clasped his hands together, examining each of the slaves in turn. “Oh yes. Oh, how wonderful." When he got to me his eyes lit up. "A child? How absolutely magnificent Dralos. You have brought me such a diverse group. We shall reap such great information from this test. How perfect.” He walked over to a counter where he picked up a smaller syringe filled with blue fluid. “Who would like the honor of being the first of you ten to be imbued with the Blood of Orpheus?”

What in the name of Ashwash…

“Her. Start with her, Darmond,” Dralos said, giving me another shove. The tattoo tightened, and my entire body went rigid before I could argue.

Gods be damned, I cursed. Given enough time, I knew I could break through the slave bonds with the power of my newly formed second heart ring, but the damned slavers weren’t giving me any time at all.

Darmond reached out, grabbing my arm and yanking me forward so I faced the horned man. Orpheus. “Look into his eyes,” the old researcher commanded, grabbing my chin so he could point my face toward Orpheus. Despite my resistance, the slave tattoo forced my eyes to meet those of the captive.

And then Darmond plunged the needle deep into my arm. I wanted to scream, but the tattoo held me still and silent. I couldn’t even watch as the blue blood was drained into my bloodstream.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

There wasn’t any pain. In fact, nothing happened. Darmond simply examined my eyes for a moment, nodded, and handed me back over to Dralos, who looked a bit disappointed that I hadn’t spontaneously combusted.

The process was repeated with the other slaves, and one by one they all lined back up next to me. After all of us had been injected with the Blood of Orpheus, the researcher jotted down some notes in a leather-bound brown book that lay a few inches from the test tube filled with the fluid. “It should kick in once they enter the arena grounds,” Darmond explained directly to Dralos and Chella, not bothering to even pretend the explanation was for us. “The blood will remain dormant until then. I’m not sure whether the blood will return to being dormant afterward, or whether the effects will linger since the previous subjects were all killed in the arenas. If any of them live, return them here for further examinations.”

“Will do,” Dralos said. Chella stayed silent. She hadn’t looked up from her feet since we’d entered the room.

As we exited the way we’d entered, heading back toward the hall of slime, I ventured a question toward Chella when Dralos made his way to the front of the morbid parade.

“What did that man inject into us?” I asked. She didn’t answer, so I pressed. “What exactly is the Blood of Orpheus?” Chella winced as if that very title made her uncomfortable. “If I’m going to die, I at least deserve to know what was put inside of me,” I argued, still making sure to keep my voice low enough that Dralos wouldn’t hear. While I’d gathered that Chella outranked him, I didn’t think she’d answer if Dralos was actively listening.

After a moment, she looked up at me, and her brown eyes were full of pity. “It’s not so bad,” she muttered. “It might make you much stronger than you’d ever believed you could be.” It was my turn to remain silent. There was more to it than that. “Orpheus is…” she started to say and then trailed off.

“He is what?” I pushed, needing to hear it. My life was about to be thrown into utter turmoil and the more unknowns were involved, the more likely a blade would find its way into my chest.

Chella gulped. “He is the sire of a beast king.”

My mouth dropped open as I let out an involuntary gasp. The only beings I could fathom siring a beast king would be a progenitor. How had anyone in this world captured a progenitor? I thought back to the time in the dungeon room and then my meeting with the progenitor in the Misty Veil Forest; where the pressure had been magnitudes more deadly.

But then an image of the golden chains snaked around Orpheus came unbidden to my mind. I hadn’t been paying attention to the chains because of what had been happening. I tried to recall whether there had been any wards carved into them.

I couldn’t remember.

“I was injected with the blood of a progenitor?” I whispered, barely audible even in the brisk silence of the tunnel. That wasn’t something I'd even thought was possible. Progenitors were individual species. The common belief was that two progenitors couldn’t reproduce with each other, and that’s why there had never been any cross-species. “That’s insane,” was all I could say.

Chella nodded and then after a few seconds added, “It’s blasphemy against the Heavens. The Blood of Orpheus can open the mortal mind to the way of the Gods. It is not a realm mortals should be interfering in.”

I was about to ask what that meant when Dralos shouted from the front. “Welcome to the arena! Get out of there and die, ya worthless scum.” Chella shot me another pitying look and then increased her pace to walk ahead of me toward the steel doors that swung open to open air. Like a procession, all ten of us walked out into a screaming crowd. When I looked around for Chella, she was gone. Dralos had vanished as well.

All around me, the cheering of an audience was deafening, drowning my thoughts in a myriad of noises. I had figured from its title of “Arena,” but I still had not expected the sheer size of the colossal amphitheater—a perfect specimen of ancient architecture and engineering.

The arena was encircled by towering stone walls, each with distinct markings of different animals carved along their lengths. Their weathered surfaces bore thousands of scars indicating the countless battles that had occurred within. Archways and columns stood heavy along the Colosseum’s perimeter, adding to the obvious wealth and grandeur that had built the amphitheater.

Within the arena, the dirt floor covered the entire interior adorned with sparse weapons and obstacles like a broken-down wagon or a large boulder. Patches of the black dirt were stained crimson with the blood of past warriors.

Tiered seating spread outward along the periphery, rising steadily in concentric rings to fill the entire outer rim. Despite the colossal size, not a single spot seemed to be empty. Hundreds of rows of stone and wood benches filled the concentric rings to accommodate the crowd, excitedly waiting for the next participants to enter the arena below them.

I looked up at the audience, attempting to shade my eyes from the blistering sun overhead when a monotonous voice rang coldly in my ears.

[Welcome to the Arena. Please state your name so it can be recorded in the System.]

I spun instantly, hands out to protect myself against whatever had talked over my shoulder. Nothing was there. There was no one other than the other slaves, who were all shouting at each other for some reason. I still couldn’t hear them.

[State your name so you may proceed to choosing your preferred class for the upcoming Arena Challenge.]

There was no way I was going to engage the disembodied voice, much less tell it my name. One of the slaves to my right pulsed with a red light akin to Orpheus’ own pulse.

In the blink of an eye, the withered slave man with sad blue eyes disappeared, replaced with a much taller, stronger man decked out in shining silver and gold armor. Even the man looked shocked as he stared down at his new armor.

“The Blood of Orpheus can open the mortal mind to the way of the Gods.” Chella had said. Is this what she meant?

"Lilliana."

A blinding blue light exploded across my vision. When it dulled and coalesced into a semi-translucent blue wall in front of me, I was able to see words written on it that echoed the voice in my ears. The blue screen flashed, showing six different options. Swordsman, mage, archer, spearman, tank, rogue. Before I could do anything the opalescent blue screen disappeared and then reappeared a second later, this time a foreboding pitch black. The words laid out before me were written in a deep blood red.

[Error.]

[Second system interfering.]

[Choose whether you would like to mix the Core System with the Blood of Orpheus?]

[Ability to choose overrode. Combining system.]

[Systems combined. Blood of Orpheus benefits will continue. Status window only applicable within Arena territories. No access allowed outside the jurisdiction of Orpheus, Progenitor of the Sun God.]

[Defeat your enemies to gain energy toward your Core.]