“—you should know how to work your way into your favor.”

The mountain was a long way to go but he had hitched a ride from one of the wagons, a light wagon without a cover; which was the only one who accepted the gold he had offered. He gave him three coins to see how he could get away with it. In the end, the driver was willing to only bring him halfway.

The rider accepted it with suspicion.

"Damn tourists," he muttered under his breath. Jodeus only smiled politely and hopped on the back.

They traveled across fields of parched grass, or a lack thereof. There was also a lack of bright greenery around these parts, he noticed. The water was also scant; there were no signs of tiny waterfalls or small ponds anywhere, like in Tanzanite. Which he didn't expect given that they were traveling to the highlands, a place he had always imagined as rich with nature.

"Aren't there any waterfalls?" he asked the driver.

The driver grunted, side-eyeing him. "Damn Cityfolks"

The only thing the driver really seemed to appreciate was Jodeus' silence for the moment. So to keep himself occupied, he got out his journal and began writing about his day with Sir Grasium Malcus and his bread stall.

He wished he could have given him more coins, but he wanted to save up money. Speaking of which, the driver had accepted his payment, but he suspected that using the same coins wouldn't be acceptable in the city.

Jodeus jolted as the wagon rode over a bump; the charcoal skidding over what he wrote. He sighed and rolled his eyes at the back of the driver and continued writing, only taking a few pauses to recall what had happened that day.

He looked around at the barren, jagged fields, looking for something else to write about. It was interesting to see so many angled rocks in a row; they appeared to have been placed there on purpose.

"Those rocks…why are they aligned like that?" he asked.

The driver looked over, and there was something solemn in his voice. "Leftover stockade, they didn't bother taking it down, in case of—"

The wagon had come to a halt, flinging his entire body off to the ground. There was a loud squelch, and as he reopened his eyes, he saw the driver's head rolling over to his feet. It bounced over from the seat just across him, bleeding profusely.

As a spear went through over his head, missing it by an inch, he ducked down, exhaling deeply as he unsheathed his dagger.

"KILL THE PASSENGERS!" he heard someone say. He clutched his dagger close to his chest.

He ran, still ducking, onto the other side of the wagon for cover. There were multiple footsteps, 'two— no, four —' he couldn't tell, he was too shaken up. But he took a deep breath and extended his dagger into a saber, emerging out of cover.

There were five, their faces and chest painted crudely in what seemed to be mud.

One threw his spear directly at him, and he scarcely dodged as it sliced the surface of his arm.

"AGH!" He hissed in pain but managed to dodge the next one, throwing himself at the side.

'I can do this! A shield… just like the boat.' He tried but there was no vivid image he could see, he didn't have time to think of one clearly as the three approached dangerously close.

Using his saber, he sliced the oncoming spear on his way, and with it, created a frozen line on the ground, shocking the attackers.

"He has a blessing!" exclaimed one in a panic but the other had a different tone. "He'd be valuable."

Jodeus swung his sword to keep them away as if they were wild animals surrounding their prey. They backed off but he didn't notice the two circling behind him.

He felt a strong impact on his head before losing consciousness.

…

"What have — got — for me?"

"A rare — pay us!"

Jodeus couldn't hear the conversation clearly, his head throbbing. He'd stand up but he couldn't move or speak. There were the five who had ambushed them, and another, who dressed differently.

"Are you sure? — he doesn't look much."

"Trust us!"

"See his sword—don't touch it! — keep your hand —"

He laid his head against the pavement, passing out once more.

The darkness roared, and the earth underneath him trembled.

The ocean.

He had returned to the ocean. And it was enraged at him.

He struggled to scream but nothing came out.

Then he was drowning. Over and over

"Please. PLEASE. Let me through!" He pleaded as the water entered his lungs.

Then he was safe once more, coughing and staring down at the marbled floors.

"If you truly want to, you'll have to go through me," said Nerune.

"I don't want to fight you, Father."

He rose to his feet and unsheathed his saber, but something warm had draped on his hands. He gasped as he stood looking at it.

There was blood. Everywhere.

He turned to look at his father, but he was no longer there. Instead, there was Caera. Blood poured down her mouth.

"Jodie… Why didn't you help me?"

"NO! STOP! I'm sorry! " He lowered the dagger and sank to his knees, groveling. It landed on the floor and echoed in the marbled room. He cried.

Then he sensed the light. A familiar one. Everything around him started to freeze and he felt himself slowing down.

Warmth. I need warmth.

Brytos was standing at the top of the steps but had his back turned.

He reached out his hands as the cold desperately clawed for him, pulling back. But Brytos did not stop walking. And he was unable to keep up.

"Wait," he begged. "Bry! Please wait for me!"

Then Brytos was gone, he had flown away. His mother was gone. His father was gone. And soon, he'll be gone too.

As the frost beckoned out to him, he embraced himself;

All he had to do was answer the call.

"Wake up," it said. "Wake up." the voice echoed in the marbled room. Louder and louder.

"WAKE UP!"

And he did. He opened his eyes, sweat trickling down from his forehead to his neck. He darted around like a madman, dazed and confused.

There were loud noises beyond the bricked walls. Cheers and applause. Then a large beardly man blocked his vision, he was wearing ragged clothes and he was full of scars.

"You cry too loud in your sleep. Some need their rest, you know?" he said, quite annoyed.

"W-Where am I?" he asked, frightened. He appeared to be confined in a box with other people. They appeared exhausted and lifeless. Some of them might already be.

"Aren't you too young to be in the Prison Ring? What the hell did you do? Mugged the palace?"

Jodeus sat up, "T-the Prison — I-I'm sorry, what?"

"The Prison Ring, boy. Losing your memory?" he said, grunting and returning to his side of the wall.

He looked at the man who woke him. And to the others. And to the walls.

There were no doors or windows. There were three tiny holes in the ceiling, which was where the light was coming from, but you can hardly fit a hand in.

'Where am I?' He ran up to the holes and peeked through. He could only see the clouds and nothing else. He gulped and the inside of his ears had a tiny pop, his hearing had become clearer after that.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" he yelled then tried to jump up and grab on the holes, bits of sand had fallen through and landed on his face. He grunted and shook his head, trying not to get it in his eyes.

That's when he noticed his bareness. He was wearing nothing but the rags that covered his lower parts above the knee.

"If you don't want your fingers, then please, poke it through." said the beardly man from behind him, who had been watching him from the wall as he ground his ax with a whetstone

Jodeus looked at him and back at the holes, baffled. "Where are we? Why are we here?"

"At the prison ring, how many times do I have to tell you? You'd get your turn soon I reckon," he said.

"My turn? What are you talking about?" he said, getting more and more panicked by the second. "Please, I am so confused."

The man looked at him with a raised brow. There was a scar on his right temple, Jodeus noticed. "You really don't know?"

Jodeus shook his head and the man approached him. "You're in the Prison Ring," he said for the third time.

"And you will be out there soon, fighting for your life. How many pardons do you need? You don't have a scratch on you, so there must be a lot I reckon."

"Pardon for what? I didn't do anything. I was…" he thought hard, the memory flooded back to his brain, and he gasped. "I was kidnapped! I was on my way to the Capital Mountain then… my ride stopped by these muddied men and I blacked out."

"Got yourself attacked by Hounders? Oh, how unlucky you are, the Ringers had probably purchased you then, then there's no way out for you sadly."

Hounders? Ringers?

"Purchased? I… oh no. This can't be right."

Kidnapped and sold. Jodeus quivered. And from the sounds of it, he'd be out there soon, risking his life.

"I'm with you there. Been here fighting for three years, and I'm only halfway through completing my pardon. Jameson has been here for five, and not a third of it completed. Well, he did murder two innocent men in cold blood." He discreetly glanced at the man slouched on the corner, who had a maddened glint in his eyes and a wide wicked grin that seemed permanently plastered on his face.

'The phoenix, the phoenix is coming,' heard Jodeus before looking away, feeling uncomfortable

"It's better not to engage with him," he said.

Jodeus swallowed a lump in his throat. "I need to get out of here. I need to be in the Capital Mountain."

"You are in the Capital Mountain," exclaimed the beardly man. "Not the way you dreamed it to be, eh?"

Jodeus didn't say a thing at that, instead he stepped back and fell on the hard floor. He wanted to laugh at his misfortune. More so, he wanted to cry, he really did, but instead, he bit his lip, frustrated.

'Trials after trials, nothing has ever been easy so far.' How could he possibly find Mera now? Has he failed already? Doomed to fight forever?

"You'd need a 'King's Pardon'," the beardly man said as if reading his mind. Jodeus looked up at that.

"King Malue would be watching the match today. If you impress him enough, you might just earn yourself one. All your crimes — er — as long as you're an inmate, you'd be free to go." He continued.

"The King of Uvites??" he asked, hopefully.

"Don't hope too much, it's a rare thing to be given one," he said, as though he's been trying to get one for years. Then he went back to his side of the wall, grinding his ax; it was large and had two uneven edges, and you can tell its usage just by looking at the scratches and dried blood.

If it was brand new, one swing and his head would topple off, just like that driver. Then he remembered something important.

"Bry —" he panicked but his ring was still there. He also noticed his dagger on the wall where he was laying earlier and grabbed it.

'They didn't take it,' he sighed in relief. He did wonder why, if they were after the money, they could've taken either of these things. But he was glad.

The clapping was erratic, with boos and jeers thrown in for good measure. But the closest sounds were the metals banging together and the sound of someone getting beaten up to a pulp.

He swallowed a lump in his throat, sweat trickling down his neck, which was partly from the heat. He wiped his brow on his sleeve and continued to listen in.

The fighting went on for a few minutes before a jarring applause and a loud horn accompanied by the sound of bustling steps.

"What's going on?" he looked up, hoping to see something else other than the plain blue clouds.

"Intermission. Audience gotta have to freshen up for the next one," the beardly man said.

Jodeus took this chance to approach him this time, "What are you in for?"

He didn't respond nor even look at him, but he did grind the whetstone much harsher. Jodeus stood there nervously. "What about your name then? You can call me Jodeus."

Took him a while to answer. "Beer. You can call me Beer," he said with finality.

There was an awkward silence after that so Jodeus went back to his wall.

He pondered on how to escape this box but it was sealed shut except for the three holes. It also smelled really bad; blood and sweat and possibly feces. He scrunched up his nose and tried to think of something else like trying to get a King's Pardon.

He would like to ask thoroughly how but Beer seemed so busy with his ax, which he had been grinding for so long that it could burn someone's eye. A light conversation would also be preferable, he misses a conversation as he did with Sir Grasium.

Being alone at sea for a few months had really taken a toll on his social skills, not that he had much anyway.

There was loud applause and lots of banging. Sounds like intermission is over. There was a loud booming voice, speaking over the crowd.

"And now! We welcome a new ring fighter!"

Jodeus and Beer had both looked up. Could it be?

"He may not look much but I guarantee he will be an entertaining punching bag!"

The crowd dissolved into a burst of sickening laughter and Jodeus felt a dark pit in his stomach, clutching his dagger as though it were his life. Then the ceiling caved in, and two men in golden helmets grabbed him by the shoulders and hoisted him to the surface.

He tried to fight back but they were strong enough to lift him off his feet and throw him against the scorching sand. He heard the crowd laugh again, their booming voices even louder compared to being in a box.

If Jodeus were seeing the whole place as someone who wasn't a sheep about to get slaughtered, he would've found himself in awe.

The Prison Ring had seven columns that were high as a tower and were lit with some sort of glowing green rock that perched like a torch on every side. Beneath it was three rows of sand bricks and stones that were the entirety of the ring, which was full of ecstatic people, looking down at him both with pity and mockery.

Those who didn't have much expression had been sitting on the columns with scopes, examining him as though he was a breed they have never seen before.

There was a loud horn, and the crowd erupted in excitement. A wall had crumbled into a perfect arched entrance, and in it, a dark figure was approaching closer and closer. Jodeus swallowed a lump and immediately stood on his feet.

…

It was a nice and warm day, and the King and his counselors were all in the mood for good wine. A few commanders had traveled to the Capital Mountain to celebrate their king's birth anniversary; those who did not attend had sent all gifts and sorts, which the king had only scoffed at.

"I am not a child in need of gifts to consolidate," Malue said gruffly, fixing up his golden fur coat, which was specially made for the occasion. " I sent for them to discuss war matters, not to celebrate."

"It is a special day, your majesty. The people…your people, had arranged for the week to be festive." said his counselor behind him.

King Malue scoffed once again and shooed the wine away, his hands glistening with gems and diamonds. He looked through his scope, slouching on his chair as he laid his metal prosthetic leg on the bricked edge of the column, watching the fight unfold as the crowd cheered.

"Boring. All of them," he said, before looking away and finally accepting his wine.

There was a bit of shuffling and the wall behind them had crumbled, entering the Sixth Commander, dressed up as well for the occasion, in a white fur coat that matched his hair, highlighted with silver streaks of diamonds. The king peered and pointed at him with an amused grin, his golden tooth glistening as he did, and spilling the wine of his silver goblet.

"HA! You dressed the part, but don't look like it! Smile wider Ektes, it is a special day," His counselor gave him a look but he didn't care. "C'mere and sit beside me, my day has been nothing but bland."

The Sixth Commander, Ektes, remained apathetic and bowed his head before taking a seat. "I've seen the streets, my liege, they're all so happy," he said simply, his stoic voice not faltering.

He accepted the scope one of the servants offered, looking down at the ragged man clashing with his puny shield to not get a limb cut off by one of the more well-treated inmates, who in turn, had a silver ax and armor. It was given to those who have won countless fights and is a crowd favorite.

"'Course they are! They love to throw away large sums of money regardless of the occasion. They've been throwing it away since the social ranks below us have been broken." he exclaimed, looking through the scopes once again.

"Look at that! Ringers don't know how to give a fair fight. I could take that man with my bare fist. Don't even need my blessings."

"Of course, my king, such a man is far below you in both ranks and strength," said his counselor from behind him but King Malue only scoffed.

When the horn sounded, they watched the beaten convict being hauled off the ring by the Ringer's servants. The sparkling winner removed his silver helmet and bowed to their column, giving him a triumphant smile. The king scoffed again and decided to complain to the sixth commander beside him, who only responded with a nod.

Seeing the king's uninterested look, the winner took his leave, feeling humiliated. Most of the audience had left, talking about the fight and their lunch.

"I think I shall take my leave," he said, slouching on his back. "Ready the carriage! And my lunch!"

"But your majesty!" exclaimed one of the Ringers, who stood behind him nervously.

King Malue gave him a scathing look and the Ringer threaded lightly. "...The prisoners are expecting a King's pardon to be given, it being a special day and all — we do have a new inmate, that I would think you'd enjoy — he was caught smuggling stolen jewelry, just outside the capital."

"I'd do that as well if I were poor." King Malue whispered to Commander Ektes, who only nodded in turn. "Mostly to piss off the rich folks. But why should I find him enjoyable?"

"Well, it's a surprise your Majesty and we're going to put him against our best fighter." said the Ringer with a nervous smile.

"If I'm bored by the end of this match, I'll have your head," he threatened.

The Ringer yelled at one of his servants to rush down and inform the other Ringers about the change of schedules for the day due to recent circumstances. The audience filed back to their seats as the intermission ended, ecstatic for another match.

King Malue and the Sixth Commander drank their wine as they waited for the surprise. Although they didn't expect much at all.

The servants hoisted a young man off the sealed cage, which served as a waiting room for the next inmate to fight. The audience laughed as he failed to get on his feet.

King Malue peered down at him with his scope. "He… what is that, a schoolboy? Alright, someone ready the head-chopper," he said.

The audience then booed the ragged 'schoolboy' and threw rocks at him, which didn't even reach him because he was in the center of the ring.

"Distasteful." Muttered Commander Ektes as he watched the whole unfold, although his expression didn't change at all.

Then came the second inmate, dressed in golden armor and armed with golden weapons; a spear and an ax. He was twice as huge and, by their estimates, twice as strong. The boy then unsheathed his dagger, which was massively puny in terms of everything.

The crowd roared with laughter.

"It's not silver. Interesting choice of weapon, although it's not something I'd use in a fight," King Malue exclaimed, peering down at the boy. "What do you say to that, Commander?"

"Odd weapon," he said, looking down at it as well.

King Malue peered through his scope, squinting at the weapon. On careful inspection, you can see somewhat through the blade, as if it were tinted glass. He then turned to look at the ragged boy, who didn't appear to be much older than twenty.

"He looks like he should be modeling rather than fighting," he said, an eyebrow raised.

Commander Ektes didn't say a thing and watched as the golden fighter swung his ax at him.

'Good reflexes.' He thought to himself as the boy dodged in time, and he could tell it wasn't by accident. The King seemed to have noticed as well.

"Is this a young enlister in your training ground who may have lost their way in life, Ektes?" he asked and laughed as the boy kicked the helmet off the contender. The crowd cheered and booed, they couldn't tell which one they were rooting for.

"I don't recognize him," he simply said.

…

The inmate scowled at Jodeus, who clutched his golden helmet by the hand. He had managed to get it after kicking it off his head.

He glared at him with a scowling look. "Give it back boy, or else I'd break you more than I've planned to."

"You don't look like you can plan, at all," said Jodeus, trying to put up a clever act after getting laughed at, something he didn't exactly enjoy, but he doubted that they could even be heard from here.

He dashed across the grounds, hoping not to get his skull slashed by the huge ax that was almost his size, but he wasn't used to sprinting barefoot on hot bricks and sand. He found himself wincing at the burn and eventually slowing down.

He screamed as he tried to look for the perfect time to take out his saber. He had planned to stab him earlier but the armor was blinding as he got closer, so he had kicked off his helmet (cutting his foot as he did so), revealing a smaller head than he had expected.

"Imperial Pardon. Do it for the Imperial Pardon," he muttered, ducking a swing over his head, terrified at the welcoming breeze that came from it.

"I need some damn water!" he yelled, desperately. He was too exhausted and too dehydrated that he felt weak to conjure up anything at all.

He rolled out of the way, letting the man crash into the wall. The crowd cheered at that.

"You!" he pointed at the man slurping his drink. "Give me water!"

"Aye, why should I? you damn prick!" he said, annoyed and a bit perplexed at an inmate talking to him during a fight.

"Please!" he said desperately as the golden armor glinted as it emerged from the crash.

"Just give it to him mate!" the guy beside him said, and then threw the goblet over the wall, spilling it on the air. Jodeus had to jump up, palms in a cup to get it before running to the middle.

"Did he just catch that with his hands?" asked the guy, watching Jodeus sprint away as he got chased.

"You damn prick, now I have to get 'nother."

Jodeus drank it all at once, sighed deeply, and looked directly at the largest column of the Prison Ring. He gripped his dagger tightly and turned to face his opponent, who was red-faced with veins protruding from his brow.

"I'LL F*CKING KILL YOU—" He burst, saliva spurting.

Jodeus stood his ground and like a flash of lightning, the Prison Ring went silent. There was a loud crash, breaking everyone from their daze. King Malue stared down at him while the sixth simply put down his scope. It took a while before the silence broke.

"AND WE GOT OURSELVES A CHAMPION!"

Most of the crowd groaned in defeat as almost all of them had a sure-win bet awaiting their pockets. On the other hand, those who had a lot of money to spare had given their new champion a standing ovation. But Jodeus didn't care at all about the audience. He returned his gaze to the highest column, hoping for a more desirable response from someone else.

He took a side glance at the golden armor being taken off his competitor, leaving the man buck-naked, with a bleeding chest. He blinked away.

'I didn't kill him.'

"Smile like a champion, son," the Ringer whispered as he nodded around the audience with his pure white teeth. Then he handed Jodeus the golden helmet and raised it up high.

"OUR NEW WINNER!" The crowd cheered even louder than before.

The cheers went on for a while but there was no word from the King, he was busy now, from what Jodeus could see, trying out what seemed to be sweets. There was another man right beside the King, gazing down at him without a single hint of a rewarding expression. He felt a dark pit in his stomach.

"Take the helmet and leave through the wall — over there —" he instructed and pushed him along.

"Wait!" Jodeus looked up once again, desperation lingering behind his eyes. But there was no response. He was pushed once again and he looked down at the sand as he retreated to where the golden competitor had emerged from.

…

Dirty looks were thrown his way as he walked through a room of other prisoners, silently grunting amongst themselves. Words got out fast, or rather in.

Jodeus had no idea where he was supposed to be in this dimly lit room, no one was giving him any welcoming looks. Everyone stood on their guard and sharpened whatever weapon they had as they snarled their missing teeth at him. He didn't look at any of them for more than a second.

Finding an isolated corner, he slumped against the wall and pulled his feet up to examine the sole, they were scraped red, he winced as he tried to wipe off the sand. He sighed, tears pricking at his eyes.

'Damn it. What do I do now?'

"Death," said someone.

He snapped beside him, it was a large beardly man, who looked exactly like Beer but bigger, but before he could ask if they were related, the man continued.

"Look for Death in the Treatment room," he pointed at a hallway, "She'll get you fixed. Hurry fast. Heard she'd be quitting prison work today." he left after that.

Jodeus raised a brow and limped towards the hall.

There were a lot of prisoners going in and out of the Treatment Room, there was a large sign above the jail cell indicating the name in lights.

He patiently waited for his turn at the very back of the line. There was one who got a large slice in his shoulder stitched up who passed by him. All of the injuries of these people seemed worse than what he had. He almost felt guilty being in line with the rest of those who had lost a finger or two. But he was tired and maybe Death would give him water as well.

He didn't notice the man he had fought walk by him until he was thrown against the bricked wall.

"Damn little f*cker. Ruined my streak! Ruined my chance in getting an Imperial f*cking Pardon!" he yelled and gripped his whole neck. Jodeus tried to breathe through but he was way too strong.

He heard a loud clang and suddenly the tightness around his neck was gone. He gasped for air and sniffed.

"Go back to your cage," he heard a voice say.

His competitor scowled and left the hallway, looking back at him with a snarl.

Jodeus raised his head, his hands caressing the pain in his neck. There was a figure staring down at him with a mean look, she huffed and gestured for him to stand up. And he did.

She turned and entered the Treatment Room, the edge of her robes trailing behind her, which covered the rest of her except for her brown shrubby hair that was pulled back, revealing her old mean wrinkly face.

"I was waiting for you."

Jodeus sat at one of the chairs. "Sorry, I don't know the place yet," he said and laughed inwardly.

'I'll get to know it soon enough I think.'

She huffed, laying her briefcase down. "I thought our 'Young King' had died on the way."

Jodeus stood abruptly. "You're—" but she cut him off.

"I don't know what Alis was thinking, sending you out here, all alone. Must've been one hell of a journey, wasn't it? Imagine my surprise when I saw you get dragged in here." She organized her papers and put them in her briefcase. Slamming it closed.

"I doubt anyone would be happy to find out you've been in jail."

"I was kidnapped…" he started. But then he felt confused. "How did you know what I looked like?"

"Alis told me. I wasn't going to look for every blue-haired boy in the country. And where else would I find anyone with such features?"

Jodeus sat back down and wondered with a sad smile, The Alumnus—'Alis', and his Father. He wanted to know about what was going on back home. He wanted to ask if she had heard from him yet. He couldn't wait any longer and took off his ring but she stopped him.

"Let's heal you first."

This feeling of his foot was slowly becoming at ease, this reminded him of The Alumnus and how he'd heal him back to normal right after a tiresome training that he never seemed to master. He had asked him to teach him how but it proved a lot more difficult than he had thought. The Alumnus told him that it had taken him a while to heal a simple bruise.

'It takes a lot of time, one of which you don't have,' he said once.

'A while' for The Alumnus is quite different. He wondered if it was the same for Mera, if they were the same and if there were others like them. He could never quite get an answer that satisfied his curiosity.

…

"Brytos… the light has been dimming since I've set sail. I'm afraid that I've wasted so much time and energy…" he explained.

She accepted the ring, then examined the engraving before putting it in her briefcase.

"Well then," she snapped her briefcase closed and bowed her head politely at him. "I shall start my work. I'll see you at my clinic when you're out of here,"

As she passed by him, Jodeus turned and grabbed her wrist. She sent him a look and he immediately pulled his hand back. But he continued,

"… Aren't you going to get me out of here?" he asked, hopefully.

She raised her head. "I am not the one giving pardons, Young King. There is nothing I could do."

"But—"

"It's King Malue's special day. Now, I doubt they have seen an Azurite and a Tanzanite stone mix. They will be interested in you. Use that to your advantage, you are a prince, you should know how to work your way into your favor. A replacement doctor will come soon, I won't be back here."

Jodeus hesitated for a second but nodded after Mera gave him a knowing look before leaving. That wasn't the interaction he expected to have with her, so he stood there and stared at the spot where she was. All of his scrapes and bruises had healed, and no stitches were required. At the very least, he knew Brytos was in capable hands.

"But how do I even get out of here?"

…

Jodeus couldn't sleep well that night.

He was thinking of what could possibly happen the next day, also sleeping on the hardened floor was as uncomfortable as it could get. The only person who he had a slight trust in not strangling him in his sleep was Beer, who was knocked out cold next to him, most likely used to sleeping in such a way.

They were put behind bars, winners got a bigger room with fewer bunkmates. It was better than what was usual at least, from what he heard from Beer. But since it was his first win, he wasn't given much other than full bread which he had shared with him and received some ale in exchange.

He thought back to Brytos and wrecked himself with worry. He hasn't seen him since he was dying on the cot in The Alumnus's room. What if the journey took a toll on him and worsened the curse? All because Jodeus wasn't the reliable and capable person he wanted himself to be.

He turned on his side and forced his eyes shut. Tomorrow he'll fight. And the day after that he would. And the next. Until he's free to go to Brytos.