Chapter 3: Chapter 3

The band of Danger Beast hunters made the unconscious Haco wear some sort of bag around his body, before dragging him onto the platform and finally left the valley behind. Its purpose was to bind Danger Beasts' limbs without hurting them, while also protecting the hunters when the paralyzing poison lost its effect.

That stuff was expensive, so they were unwilling to waste any more on poisoning them again on the transport to the buyer.

This time though, they weren’t going to the usual city.

A few hours later...

Haco woke up finding himself wrapped in leather. After trying to struggle free without the hunters knowing, he found it impossible. He was wrapped too tight. Then Haco realized the desert was gone, replaced by greenery. He was being dragged on a graveled road by two ropes.

“So the monkey has finally woken from his beauty sleep. Woah?! You are getting awfully red in the face.” Commented the hunter who wouldn’t drop calling Haco monkey.

Sure, enough. Haco was blowing a fuse. He felt so humiliated, that he had to boost his esteem.

“I will kill you! I’ll fulfill my role. You cannot bind this-“

Haco was cut short, by a splash of water in the face. His rambling was left alone in the wind. The hunters sure weren’t listening.

“Woulda’ shut up. Just accept your fate and make us rich.” Another hunter said with a knife in his hand. His intention was easily misunderstood when he grabbed Haco’s hair and began cutting the hair crudely.

But Haco didn’t accept anything.

‘This isn’t my fate!’

He had something he had to do. Something he had decided from early childhood.

As humiliating as it was, it only got worse when they crossed a pair of colossal city gates. People were walking everywhere. Carts coming in. The city streets were cramped. In the air, Haco spotted someone riding a wyvern.

The humiliating part was that Haco was sold like cattle on a city square. The bids flew in from anywhere, though they stopped bidding when a man wearing a military uniform and glasses bid. Most noticeable, was his superior attitude and a purple streak of hair, that contrasted with the rest of his black hair.

Just like that, Haco was forced in chains to follow the man that was well guarded.

‘At least, I can comfort myself a little. This outcome is better than theirs…'

Haco was looking at the corpses—or soon to be—that were nailed to logs around the city square.

It had made Haco awfully quiet during the situation and concluded that acting up would only be detrimental.

In the prisons under the Colosseum.

Haco had lamented on his thoughts further. His death could very well be worse than those nailed people. At least people would know about his death. Now? He might die by these unfriendly gladiators that were glaring at him. He was sure the people running the place would make good use of his body—like using it as Danger Beast fodder.

He has learned from staying here one night; that the fight isn’t only happening upstairs.

In Haco’s cell, he was sitting on the cold concrete floor. What should have been grey, was getting overlapped by the flowing blood. The crooked floor made the blood gather in a pool in the corner.

The source was Haco's cell mate, or what was left of him.

Haco had been attacked the moment night arrived. The guy tried to pop his eyeballs.

The response was more than just resistance. Haco grabbed his cell mate’s arms and nimbly kicked the guy’s jaw.

But it didn’t end there. All the frustration Haco had built up was let out.

After the guy fell on the floor, Haco:

Stomped...

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Stomped...

And continued… Stomping on the guy’s face.

Long after it was already bashed in, Haco only stopped when it looked like a completely crushed watermelon. The skull could be mistaken for white seeds for the unknown.

It was only the next morning a female guard opened the door. With her, she had another prisoner who was pushed inside, before the door was locked again. The corpse was left inside.

This time around, Haco could get a little sleep. His new cellmate was intimidated by Haco—from the moment he saw what had happened to his previous cellmate.

On average, the doors are opened just once a day, and prisoners are thrown a minimal amount of rotten food.

Haco had already counted the eleventh bad meal.

More noticeable, the cells were getting cramped. Through the underground, in each small cell, were stuffed at least four people.

Something was going on. Fighters were getting stocked up.

At first, Haco had to deal with the racism his dark skin induced, but a few demonstrations solved that.

The routine was broken when every prisoner was brought up—forced into the middle of the Colosseum.

He heard the cheers from below but having arrived in the middle of it, Haco felt so small. So many potential enemies.

As he was about to run out of the encirclement, a spear stopped short of his throat.

“Stay where you are!” Yelled the guard.

“What’s going on? Why isn’t it the usual fights?” Questioned Haco. He had a bad feeling.

“Just stay where you are and you’ll soon learn of it.”

Forced to stay, Haco scouted for any possible exit out of this hellhole. Amidst the cheers, in the grandest box—that had the best view—he spotted the very same man that bought him.

He looked like he was waiting for someone. The superior attitude was gone, and instead, he looked nervous. Sweating like droplets of a leaf. He had grasped his hands together to deal with the nervousness a little.

Iokal; a relative to the Prime Minster who was guiding the Emperor of this country, from this city called the Capital.

Haco had learned this from the only cellmate he'd had a conversation with. Though it was cut short and Haco didn’t understand what Prime Minster entailed. But just hearing how a descendant of the legendary 1st Emperor was ruling this country shocked him silly. More so, when learning that not only did The 1st Emperor create the Gravekeepers' Secret Art, he also created some immensely powerful weapons called Teigus that were the greatest weapons in the world.

Then a woman followed by three people stepped into the box. Iokal looked like someone who’d retract into his military jacket at any moment—as a turtle would retract into its shell.

Without a doubt, the woman with blue hair fluttering in the high wind and a white military uniform ignited the fear in Iokal. That much was obvious.

He squished out a polite smile.

“It’s nice to have you here General Esdeath. I sincerely hope the show will satisfy you."

“Uhm. I hope so too. You have certainly been given enough preparation to gather strong slaves. If not for Honest so annoyingly insisting I took a break, I wouldn’t waste my time on you.”

She was bored and didn’t have any hope of having fun here. Still, she took the forefront seat and put her long white, high-heeled, boot over her knee, and waited. Her three bodyguards just followed over and stood ready behind.

Iokal wasn’t offended at all by Esdeath. Instead, he cursed his relative, who brought upon this nightmarish responsibility of a woman’s boredom.

‘Honest, you bastard!! Can’t you just let me live the high life by using your name to rape a young woman?’

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