Horace felt at his body in amazement. His wounds weren’t completely healed by leveling, but what pain remained after the fight had been done away with by the mead he held in his now large hand. His strength was shocking to him as it seemed unreal. Just yesterday he had been a child on the brink of death and now he was a ten year old in the body of a teenager with a slightly smaller chance of imminent destruction. He began to consider if things had really changed after all, but at least in his new body, he could get taken seriously.

After his win, they had let him come out of the arena to join everyone above, and the looks of confusion had been nothing to the fearful concern they had when Myron had taken the seat beside him. No one approached now. Rita had given him a small nod of acknowledgment from her place next to the prince, but Aiden was gone. The smells wafting from the kitchen told him his companion was likely fine and the two smug looking aids looked like they had hit the jackpot in their new role. He figured they had since Aiden was capable enough to keep them safe.

He was strangely numb about his friends’ success. He wanted to feel happy for them and for himself, yet all he felt was a soul-deep resignation. It was almost as if he had lost hope in addition to giving away his soul. The mead helped with that too. He took another gulp and relished in the way it lit up his body before numbing everything to a manageable level.

Unlike him, Myron was looking completely satisfied. If he were guessing from the expressions of those around them, Myron's younger form and jovial expression were as offputting as his own scowl. Even Gar'ath was giving them side-eyed glances from his place beside the prince.

"Horace! Superb job! It seems we both came out well from our little arrangement. Now I must warn you, the first task you must complete is coming sooner than you may think. Your new form was chosen for my own convenience in shaping your new strength and also because it allows you influence in a species the great god Ponram is particularly interested in right now."

Horace stared at the bone-white teeth of the gremlin to his right and tried to recall what he had been told to do. When he did his eyes went straight to the dais in horror and his body began to shake.

"Why do you look like you've seen a ghost? Oh, no! Not that, I require of you the task regarding the half-golems. The odds of having to deal with the other role of your new servitude are quite low. Your friends may be skilled, but it would take far more than they have in them to trigger that requirement. It is not worth fretting over. Instead, you should focus your energy on the missions you will have to complete. Gain strength and learn how to master every skill you can. You are not a leader, schemer, magician, or healer. You aren't even a true warrior yet."

"What am I then?" He was annoyed with Myron's inability to ever just say things clearly. The strange man seemed to get a thrill out of bothering him.

"You are a champion of Ponram. A warrior of divine judgment and hellish might. Your failures reflect on me and may anger him. Being skilled in just fighting would not be enough. You must be able to talk to people, lead Ponram's lesser subjects when needed, and survive in any conditions. Skills of the body will not follow you in death, yet those of the soul will give you greater strength in death. I do not wish to stay here long as I have other rolls now, so I will leave you to complete your missions and await further instructions. Even though no one will be here in person, you will be watched in everything that you do. Should you fail to complete your tasks or miss an opportunity to best serve your new god then your family will suffer."

Horace took a moment to process and then found himself laughing. It was a strange grating laugh that would have disturbed him before, yet now he took solace in the menacing nature of everything he did in his new body.

"Don't you recall one of my conditions? Your god has no influence over my mother and sister. I made sure of that."

He felt confident in his protection of them, but the returning laughter from the man made him wonder if he had missed something.

"Ha! Your family is indeed saved from eternal damnation, so in that, you did well. However, you gave your friends more consideration in current protections than you did for those of your blood. You never stated that we could not harm your family or ask that harm be done to them. The human king and his creations may be out of our direct influence as a result of our deal with Jerome but there is still much we can have done in the human lands above."

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Horace's skin prickled with unease and he felt scared for his sister. His mother would lay down her life for the little angel and so would he. He could vividly see her brown ringlets and big brown eyes looking pleadingly up at him. Two seconds later he realized they actually were and his hand smacked hard on the gremlin's chest. Myron giggled and Horace knew he was stuck. He would do whatever he had to in order to allow her a peaceful life.

"I will complete the tasks should the correct conditions present themselves and I will be on the lookout for golems, okay? If you are satisfied with that then please leave and go manipulate some other poor kid into doing your bidding." Horace's voice was firm and emotionless to hide his own apprehension at Myron leaving. He did not like the creature, but he could talk freely with him and felt none of the fear he normally did in social situations.

"As you wish Horace, I will see you again and look forward to your growth in power to match the well of potential hidden within you." Myron sent him a smile that held none of the bravado and aggravating confidence he was used to. It seemed they were both dreading being off on their own to face a hostile world.

Myron stood and eyes tracked him from all sides. Their look held them there is a sort of stasis until Myron exploded into violent laughter that shifted the looks away. The wink he sent Horace made him wonder if Myron was actually insane or if the gremlin was simply using madness as a way to keep people at bay. Horace found himself laughing back and in his buzzed state it sent him careening off the crude stool he sat on. No one else made a sound, yet the ringing of their voices resounded through the room.

Myron walked away and Horace stared as the man's pale form vanished into a discrete doorway behind the dais that he had not noticed. Rita's furrowed brow said she had failed to see it either. He rested his head back on the hard ground and lay starring at the ceiling a dozen paces above him. Booted feet appeared in his sight, but he did not tilt his head to see whose they were.

A gruff and bored voice told him it was Gar'ath, "Hey, you should return to your cell. The prince has need of your fighting in the upcoming tournament in two days' time. You will be fighting to bring honor to our dungeon and any gains for us will result in better conditions for you. In the morning I will attempt to beat some skill into you to avoid any embarrassing incidents when you fight the representatives of the other dungeon."

A firm but not harmful kick encouraged him to his feet and one of the kitchen orcs handed him a wrapped bundle of food. Gar'ath's big muscled hand rested tight on his shoulder as he walked him down the tunnel to the cage Myron had inhabited.

"This is your cell. You will be granted time outside of it, but every night you will be here or I will kill you. I do not know how you came to be the way you are or what deal you made with the demon who used to reside here, so I cannot in good faith leave a threat like you to roam. As a reward for your entertaining fight today, I had the space enhanced and a straw mattress brought in. I can take it away if warranted."

Horace saw the way Gar'ath's eyebrow lifted and his eyes twinkled as he questioned him, even with his stunted interpersonal understanding he could tell that the man was not taking his own words that seriously. It was clear Gar'ath did not see Horace as the threat he implied when he spoke, yet his duty as the prince's enforcer seemed to require him to be extra careful.

Horace looked into the cell that this morning had been bare besides the shriveled frail form of the gremlin cleric. It now had a four-inch-thick mattress with a blanket folded on the foot resting against the far side, a clay jug stood near the door next to a few solid blocks of stone, and a practice dummy was staked in the middle of the space. It looked bigger than it had before by at least five feet and as he walked in, he noticed the strange muffled sensation that overcame him when the door was closed. Gar'ath did not say goodbye and left him there alone which was fine. He took the time to unwrap the meat sandwich Aiden had created for him and ate it while staring at the straw and burlap shape resting in front of him.

The practice dummy was a big hint from Gar'ath to work on improving himself for the battles ahead. He was under no false hope that his imprisonment would end after this tournament. He would likely be used as a gladiator until he died or stopped entertaining La'Curk and his people. If that happened he would probably die anyway, so he would use the pressure they provided to strengthen himself, and then when the time is right he will leave. As much as he had begun to care for his human friends, they had a different path from his now and it would not help any of them if he clung on. It was better for them to all focus on themselves and if possible, help each other later when they could without risking their own safety.

He sent one pensive glance at the mattress before lifting a stone with his new arm and beginning to train. Sleep could come when he was powerful enough to let his guard down.