Henry returned to his room in an effort to train, but it was futile. He felt lighter but no stronger. The weights unfelt around his soul had been unbound and left to fall away, but there wasn’t more force to be had from less restraint. The screams coming from outside also didn’t help.

“What?”

He opened the door, but no one was there. Again a door was opened, this time with a crowd, most staring at the bamboo rafters of his eastern-style dormitory. Henry looked up, and found the corpses of eleven disemboweled students— ten female, one male. Their necks were slit open beneath coarse rope, tongues poking from the bottom.

Blood trailed down their exposed abdomens and dripped from toes just fast enough to know it was still warm, but there was no saving them now.

Henry looked around. To his left was the maid, collapsed to the ground, hands covering her mouth. Mascara was smeared over both eyes, blood trailed from her lips invisible through the tightly bound fingers. Her hair was disheveled and dress dirty from the cobblestones.

She screamed through sobs. “Why?”

Henry looked to the bodies and saw one that resembled Sarah there.

“Ah,” he thought, “she must fear for her own safety.”

So he asked the crowd who did this.

When he met no response he asked again, louder. Silence fell over them, but no response came.

He shrugged and collected the bodies. They would need no graves.

When there were only ropes to dangle in the wind he went back inside.

Anisa clawed at the cobblestones until her fingers bled vigorously. She had barely known Sarah, but she didn’t deserve this. How could she?

“She stood up for us and died for it. Why would someone do this? How? Why would someone do this? I don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense. Why her?”

It took an hour but she finally went back inside and went directly to Henry’s room. She did not knock. Prostrating herself to the floor, there were only six words to be said.

“Please, make whoever did this suffer.”

Henry raised an eyebrow, but before he could respond she continued.

“And if there’s anything you want from me in return, I’ll do it.”

She raised her forehead just enough to open her top and expose her breasts. It was the least Anisa could do to protect her close and less close friends.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

Henry pondered his loss of humanity in tandem with his rising manhood, but what kind of man would he be to deny her now?

“Sure. Consider them dead.”

He didn’t feel the need to hide his gaze that pinned Anisa in place as he began to unfold his criss-crossed legs, but in the long second of his stare the legs again folded back into place.

Then he rose in the air and left. There was no need to stand, nor was there ever. Henry didn’t know why he didn’t do something like this sooner— it must leave such a cool impression.

Anisa remained firmly locked in place until Henry was gone, then she stood, patted some meager portion of the dust off of her dress, and started dusting. Dirt from her hands stained the wall when her rag came out of position, so she then resolved to clean them properly. Soap and water lasted only long enough to conjure acid, and then the skin was properly cleaned. Blood began to seep up from within, but it felt better than the dirt.

There was no weight to Henry’s body. There was no weight to any of this. There was only the strength necessary to take what was his and the necessity of punishing those who would violate the sanctity of the things in his life.

It only took one body from the crowd raised by the throat to convince another to say the name of the perpetrator.

“Ni.” It did not surprise him in the least, but where to look for a cherub that should have long since been aborted?

In front of him, it seemed. Ni rose from the crowd, swaddling clothes unfolding away from his disguise as the product of teenage pregnancy gone awry.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Henry could feel no rage bubbling up from within.

“You already know.” Ni’s elderly and deep voice never grew less jarring.

When the last of the scraps of white cloth fell away his purple face became clear. Some of the crowd had begun to make their way out from beneath the two, but some stood directly beneath them for a better angle of Henry’s feet. Or perhaps they were blind, it didn’t really matter which. But they weren’t dead quite yet.

“And you expect me not to retaliate?” Henry didn’t really care all that much, but he needed to play the part.

“Oh no, that’s why I’m here, or did you think I wanted to give you my well-wishes?”

The few below them were clearly suicidal.

“I didn’t want to kill you, you know, but now you’ve left me little choice.”

“Have I now? Those were my rightfully-owned slaves. I haven’t wronged you at all.” Ni smiled, just slightly. It seemed he had something meaningful to say, but Henry spoke first.

“And yet you’ve defaced my dorm and mentally scarred my hare— roommates.”

“I’ve done no such thing—! Merely delivered a message that you’re my enemy and should prepare yourself for our next bout in the arena.” Ni smiled and spread his stumpy infant fingers.

Henry’s stomach rumbled as they resembled Vienna sausages. He could stop this and go eat… it wasn’t like Ni would run anywhere. He had pride to think of, and with pride behind him it was unthinkable to run. But he’d already promised Aniva? Anila? Anila. That he would kill this little fat bastard. He had cleavage to think of!

So Henry spread his hands in turn.

“And?”

“Hmm?” Ni didn’t know what to make of this.

“And why do I care about your justification?”

“Well,” Ni began, “You see it is my right to do…” he paused to spread his stumpy sausage fingers and point to the ropes where colombian-necktied bodies had once hung, “this kind of thing.”

“It helps combatants take each other seriously.”

“Hmmm.” Henry didn’t know what to make of this. Maybe it would be sufficient to kill Ni in the arena? He didn’t strictly have to do it now to achieve vengeance right? But it would look bad to ask the spectators whether this was normal or not… a true quandary indeed.