15.| Wheel Fragments (3)
The dark priest rose from his kneeling position, his robes swirling around him like living shadows. "He should be fine now," he said, his voice a low rumble. "You should head back. I can blind them long enough for you and the Punishers to escape."
"But the parts to the wheel flew off—" I began to explain, my heart sinking at the thought of facing more dangers to retrieve them. But before I could finish, the dark priest raised his hand, silencing me. With a fluid motion, he uncurled his fingers, revealing two gleaming fragments nestled in his palm.
My eyes widened in disbelief. He had found them! And not only that, but he'd saved me from another fight that neither Dyon nor I was prepared for. Without hesitation, I reached out to take them, concentrating on my newfound inventory ability. As my fingers brushed the fragments, they burst into a shower of blue particles before vanishing into thin air.
[System Notification: Two Wheel Fragments Obtained!]
[Items Added to Inventory: Wheel Fragment x2]
[Quest Complete: Find The Wheel Pieces]
[Reward: XP +500, Skill Point +1]
A rush of excitement coursed through me as the notifications flashed before my eyes. I looked up at the dark priest with gratitude and awe on my face. "Thank you," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "But... why are you helping us?"
The dark priest's slitted eyes narrowed, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Let's just say I have my reasons. Now go, before I change my mind."
As I helped Dyon to his feet, I couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something much bigger. The dark priest's aid, the strange powers I seemed to be developing—it all hinted at a destiny I never could have imagined.
My life, even reborn as a thrall in my father's game, had meaning. The realization hit me like a bolt of lightning, electrifying every fiber of my being.
"What's your name?" I asked the dark priest..
He gave a little smirk, his slitted green eyes glinting in the darkness. "Killian," He answered without hesitation, the name rolling off his tongue like a forbidden spell.
"Come on, Dyon," I said, supporting his weight as we began to move. "Let's get out of here while we can."
As we stumbled away, Killian's chant rose behind us, the air crackling with energy. A brilliant light shot up, flaring in the sky like a newborn star. Bryard's whip sang through the air, striking down a needle beast with a sickening crack.
The creature scrambled to its feet, leaping at the man who had caused me so much pain and misery. Every part of me screamed for Bryard's demise, yearning to hear him scream the way I had until I'd fallen unconscious in that wretched barn.
But fate had other plans. The blinding light seared the needle creature, its fur and needles sizzling away like mist in the morning sun. The beasts retreated into the darkness, just as Dyon and I made our way back to the wagon.
With a deep breath, I held out the wheel fragments to Bryard, who stood there, a tempest of shock and anger swirling in his eyes.
"I guess there's some damn use for you after all," Bryard barked, his words dripping with disdain.
He snatched the fragments from my hand, tossing them to one of his guards. "Get to working on it. Hurry before that damn light fades."
As the guard rushed to repair the wheel, I noticed Bryard's gaze fixed on Killian, light and shadow dancing upon his broad face. They locked eyes and worry gnawed at me. I prayed Bryard wouldn't suspect my involvement with the dark priest.
After all, why would a dark priest come to aid a lowly thrall?
"It's fixed, sir!" the guard shouted, and Dyon and I were unceremoniously herded back into the wagon.
As we settled in, my mind raced. I may be a thrall now, but I swore to myself that one day, I would have my revenge on Bryard. And when that day came, I would make sure he remembered every lash, every cruel word, every scream he had forced from me.
But for now, I had to play my part. As the wagon lurched forward, I cast one last glance at Killian, his form fading into the dissipating light.
***
Three grueling days had passed since I'd been thrown into the back of this cursed thrall wagon. Three days, at least eight stops, and not a single morsel of food from our captors—just a few measly sips of water to keep us alive.
As I shifted in the cramped space, trying to wake my legs that had long since gone numb with pins and needles, I overheard the guards whispering. We were only a mile away from our dreadful destination. My stomach twisted into knots.
I didn't know whether to be terrified of the death matches that awaited us or relieved at the prospect of a proper meal. After all, anyone would want a decent last supper before they died, right?
Squeezing my eyes closed, I thought of the menu, and the dictionary.
[Dictionary]
Blood Moon
Underground Church
Punisher
All Mother
Forgotten Gods
Daemons
The Hallows
Anima
???
???
???
I wanted to understand Anima more in depth. Yes, it was part of a Daemon's soul, but what exactly did all of that entrails?
I clicked on Anima.
[Anima]
[ Ψ The Daemon Animas are manifestations of chaotic energy, born from the tumultuous borderlands between the mortal realm and the infernal planes the Daemon's left behind when the sky was torn asunder during The First Coming. These spectral entities embody raw emotion and primal urges, flitting between worlds and occasionally possessing mortals or objects. Ψ ]
[Specifications]
[Locked until appropriate level]
"Argh! What the heck was the appropriate level then?" I grumbled, squinting at the flickering status screen.
Just as my finger was about to tap the profile icon, the wagon hit a massive pothole. "Gah!" The sudden jolt sent me sprawling, the menu vanishing in a swirl of pixels.
A vein popped on my forehead as I sat up, brushing dirt off my clothes. "Fine, whatever! I'll check it later," I huffed, crossing my arms.
My gaze drifted to Dyon, and as if on cue, my stomach let out an angry growl that seemed to echo through the wagon. Ever since I'd healed him with the needle creatures Anima, he'd been unnaturally quiet. He sat there, knees pulled up to his chest, those usually vibrant honey-brown eyes now dull and distant.
A cold fear gripped my heart. Had I messed him up when I tried to save him? What if my reckless action had done more harm than good?
"Hey, Dyon," I whispered, my voice hoarse from disuse. "You okay?"
He turned to me slowly, his eyes struggling to focus. For a moment, I saw a flicker of... something. Recognition? Fear? But then it was gone, replaced by that same vacant stare.
"I'm... fine," he muttered, but his words lacked conviction.
I wanted to press further, to shake him out of whatever trance he seemed to be in, but the wagon suddenly lurched to a stop. The sound of heavy boots approached, and the tarp covering us was ripped away, flooding the space with harsh sunlight.
Bryard's sneering face loomed over us. "Welcome to your new home, maggots," he growled. "Hope you're ready to fight for your miserable lives."
As we were roughly hauled out of the wagon, I caught sight of our destination—a colosseum that dominated the skyline. Its circular walls, etched with scenes of brutal combat, rose imposingly before us. Cruel iron spikes lined the top, each bearing a grisly trophy from fallen combatants.
The arena's stone facade was stained with the dark patina of old blood, telling tales of countless brutal spectacles. Roars and screams echoed from within, a symphony of violence that sent chills down my spine.
A short distance away stood a utilitarian structure—the Thrall training grounds. Its gray walls and barred windows gave me a hint at the harsh regimen within. The crack of whips and clang of weapons drifted from its confines, and I could only think of the fate that awaited us.
Between these two bastions of cruelty, a wide courtyard teemed with activity—handlers barking orders, newly arrived thralls shuffling in chains, and seasoned arena fighters strutting with deadly confidence. This was it. The arena where thralls like us were sent to die for the entertainment of others.