Dan's fate

An hour passed, and it was time for the trial. According to the ancient traditions and customs of the land, the trial was to be held on the same day as the crime was discovered. This practice was designed to prevent the prisoner from taking his own life before the official death penalty could be administered, ensuring that justice would be served in full view of the council and the community.

The grand courtroom was an imposing structure, built centuries ago with stone walls that towered high above, adorned with intricate carvings depicting the history and valor of their ancestors. The hall could accommodate hundreds, yet today, it seemed eerily empty. This was a reflection of Dan's status in society. He was not a prominent figure; he had no family to speak of, no notable achievements, and his legacy was nonexistent. To most, he was just another prisoner, a faceless entity awaiting his fate.

The council of nine chiefs, was already seated at the high table. The head chief, Lucien, occupied the central seat. His appearance was immaculate, exuding an air of authority and charisma that could easily deceive those who didn't know him well. But behind this facade was a man known for his ruthlessness and cunning.

Lucien's presence commanded attention. He wore a robe of deep crimson. His eyes, cold-red and calculating, scanned the room with a gaze that made even the bravest shudder. Yet, as always, he maintained a veneer of calm and dignity.

Minutes ticked by, each second stretching into an eternity. Finally, the massive wooden doors of the courtroom creaked open. Dan was brought in, shackled and chained, dragged by a single guard. The chains clinked loudly against the stone floor, echoing through the nearly empty hall. A massive shackle encircled his neck, connected by a long chain to his bound hands and legs, giving him the appearance of a hardened criminal. It was a deliberate display, meant to emphasise his supposed guilt and the severity of his crimes.

The guard forced Dan to his knees in the centre of the room, pinning his chains to the ground to ensure he couldn't move. He was positioned to face the council directly, his eyes level with theirs. Despite his weariness and the physical discomfort, Dan tried to maintain a calm expression. Inside, he was a turmoil of emotions, but he clung to the hope—or rather, forced himself to believe—that Cornelius would somehow find a way to save him.

The courtroom was filled with an oppressive silence, the kind that weighs heavily on the chest and makes it difficult to breathe. Before the trial could commence, three other individuals entered the room. Cornelius, who took a seat to the right. Emma, went to the left, followed by Naya, who seemed unable to leave Emma's side. As they sat down, Naya was overcome with an overwhelming wave of grief at the sight of Dan's pitiful state. She blamed herself for the chain of events that had led to this moment, feeling a deep sense of responsibility and guilt.

Dan, tightly bound and pinned to the ground, had no opportunity to see who had entered the room. He remained where he was, hoping and wishing that everything would go according to the plan that Cornelius had assured him of.

Lucien turned to Cornelius and gave a slight nod before standing. "Dan, you have been summoned here today on charges of treason. I am sure you are well aware of that. I would also like to know what triggered such actions?" Lucien's voice echoed with authority, reverberating through the hall.

Before Dan could respond, one of the chiefs, the perverted chief shouted, "We don't need to hear anything from that pig; he needs to die!"

"Yes, I agree," another chief chimed in. "He should be cut to pieces and fed to the dogs."

"He should be stripped naked and given a thousand lashes before being killed," yet another chief added, joining the chorus of condemnation.

The outburst from the chiefs was sudden and ferocious, their collective anger palpable. Hearing their angry barks, Naya jolted in fear, her body trembling uncontrollably. Emma, sensing her distress, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her.

"Silence!" Lucien's voice thundered, immediately quelling the uproar. "Although his actions depict treason, we should consider the bright side: nobody died, nor was anyone hurt. The defendant also claimed to have acted not out of treason but in an attempt to save his dear friend from—"

"You said nobody got hurt?" The perverted chief interrupted, standing up and pointing an accusing finger at Lucien. "I fell to the ground and hit my head," he continued, showing a bandage strapped to the back of his head. "My healer said I was lucky not to have suffered a concussion, and you said nobody got hurt."

This was clearly a lie; he had only fallen on his butt. The perverted chief's actions showed how desperately he wanted Dan dead. And he didn't stop at Dan alone.

"You know, the day your father died, I noticed how you miraculously promoted yourself to head chief. That shows how you wanted power all for yourself. You are too young for this position, yet you got it. How? Through bloodshed!" The perverted chief exclaimed, gaining some favor among the other chiefs.

"I always wondered what killed the former head chief, but then I realized how calm and composed you remained during his burial. How you secured this position for yourself left me thinking—did you actually kill your father? And that was only possible because he wasn't your real father; he adopted a slave bastard like you, right—"

Before the perverted chief could finish his tirade, an arrow flew through the air, hitting him squarely in the chest and pinning him to his seat, killing him instantly. The arrow's trajectory led back to one of the guards stationed at the enormous door, a grim reminder of Lucien's absolute control over the proceedings.

"Now, will anyone else interrupt me?" Lucien asked, his voice deeper and more menacing than before. The silence that followed was deafening, a testament to the fear he commanded. When no one replied, he turned back to Dan and continued.

"Your actions warrant death, but I will give you a chance because you are one of the champions of the arena. You live as a champion and will die as a champion. Therefore, tomorrow at dusk, you shall face Gaius the Man-Eater. An hour before the match, you shall be treated to a lavish meal and the best women. I will ensure this. Consider this your grace, if you survive," Lucien's words reverberated around the hall before he left the high table, followed by the remaining seven chiefs. The ninth chief remained pinned to his chair, a grim testament to the consequences of crossing Lucien.

As Dan stared at the now-empty seats, a flicker of hope ignited within him. There was a chance of survival. If he killed Gaius, he would survive. The prospect seemed simple enough in his mind. However, little did he know that the match ahead of him would be unlike anything he had ever faced before. Gaius the Man-Eater was no ordinary opponent; he was a legend in his own right, a monstrous figure who had claimed the lives of many. The arena would be a battleground, a place where life and death intertwined in a brutal dance of survival.

[NEXT: DAN VS GAIUS THE MAN EATER]