Chapter 21: The Cost of Life

As I hefted Elric onto my back, his weight a grim reminder of his injuries, a thought struck me. "Will he have to fight today?"

Sia shook her head. "Considering his condition, they'll probably either ask for a small fee or require him to complete an extra battle later."

We raced off toward the arena, the place most recruits seemed to gather during the day, and where we figured Rorik would be.

By the time we arrived, I saw the crowd and realized this might be more difficult than I'd anticipated. The noise was overwhelming, recruits packed into every corner of the space, but luck was on our side. A cluster of healers stood near the edge of the arena, and among them, I recognized faces—some belonging to those who had harassed Elric before.

And there, next to them, stood a man wielding a massive axe. Like most melee weapons here, it was blunted, but a chunk of metal that size could still wreak havoc. I knew that all too well.

Putting on my angriest face and summoning a voice laced with rage—hardly difficult given the situation—I bellowed, "RORIK!"

The man turned, confirming that we'd found our target.

Surprisingly, his initial reaction wasn't arrogance. Instead, he seemed cautious, as if he was bracing for retaliation. But after a few murmured words from the healers beside him, his confidence returned. He smirked, his stance shifting slightly.

"What? Do you need something from me?"

I dropped my voice into a low growl. "I am challenging you. Now. Let's go register."

Before Rorik could answer, Thea stepped forward, launching into a performance that was teetering on the edge of absurdity—the kind of overacting you'd expect in a melodramatic stage play where a farmer's wife sobbed uncontrollably as her husband went to war, a war he would never come back from.

"Peter!" she gasped, her voice quivering with dramatic flair. She paused, as though summoning tears. "You can't—you don't even have a system!"

Oh, sweet creators of this world, please let this work.

If the situation weren't so serious, I might've laughed. I decided not to tell her that later. Wait—my line.

"No!" I snapped, turning my glare back to Rorik. "Rorik, do you agree?"

His expression shifted to one of pure delight, as if he'd just hit the jackpot. Though he did cast an odd look at Thea—probably trying to figure out if she was just way too into me. Honestly, let's hope he thought that. It'd only make sense for some obsessed fan to throw away her points for a guy like me, rather than a reasonable girlfriend.

"Fine," Rorik said, his smirk widening. "If you want to hand over ten points, let's go."

"No!" I resumed my yelling phase, spinning toward Thea. "How much?"

"Darling?" she said sweetly, dropping the overdramatic tone just long enough to hit me with such an endearing term that I nearly froze. Nice touch. I might've underestimated her. Maybe she knew exactly what she was doing.

Now starting to look like the incompetent one, I snapped myself out of it. "How many points do you have?"

"I—I…" she stammered, looking up at me with wide, watery eyes.

"How much!" I barked, doing my best to sell it.

"Eight hundred and thirty-five!" she finally blurted, her voice trembling as though she was on the verge of tears. Good god, she can act. Now there were actual tears glistening in her eyes.

Rorik hesitated, his smirk faltering. "I don't have that much. Are you insane?"

"Wait," a healer behind him interjected, grabbing Rorik by the arm and pulling him aside.

Good, I thought, watching as they whispered back and forth. Hopefully, he's about to take out a big loan.

When Rorik returned, his grin stretched wider than I thought possible. "Fine. Eight hundred and thirty-five."

"NO!" Thea shouted, and for a moment, I imagine Rorik thought she might refuse the absurd request. But then she turned to me, her voice quivering with despair. "Eight hundred and thirty—leave him five… please."

Now she was actually crying. Even Rorik, the man who had nearly killed Elric, looked like he might feel bad. For a second, anyway.

He nodded, his tone softening just a bit, though his confidence seemed to double. "Fine," he said, this time with a more measured, assured tone.

Thea pulled out her orb, transferring the entirety of the points into mine as we walked to the front desk. The entire way, she sobbed theatrically, shifting between uncontrollable wails—during which Sia and Lyra gently comforted her and, occasionally, suggested she rethink her taste in men—a touch I thought was entirely unnecessary—and silent sobs, which I could swear were just muffled chuckles. But what do I know?

When we reached the attendant, Rorik explained the situation. She looked at both of us skeptically. "You are aware this does not count as your daily match?"

I wasn't aware, but it made sense. Friends could theoretically challenge each other repeatedly to skip their dailies otherwise.

"Yes," we said in unison, depositing the full 830 points each into her orb. I handed Elric off to Thea, who, as I glanced back, was practically grinning behind a cloth she'd taken from Lyra.

"Alright. Proceed back there," the attendant instructed, pointing toward two side-by-side elevators.

We entered silently and descended to the arena.

The entrance announcements blared overhead, and before I could take a proper breath, a resounding "Begin!" echoed through the space.

Following the commander's advice, I held my ground, waiting for an attack. My focus turned inward, circulating my energy as efficiently as possible. It rushed through the spiral patterns in my Grand Channel, diffusing into my body with speed. Some of it pooled in my chest and shoulders, ready to be unleashed.

Rorik, filled with misplaced confidence, charged immediately. He closed the gap in moments, his massive axe swinging wide in a ridiculously telegraphed arc. Did he take this fight seriously? Or had he relied too long on brute force? Don't tell me he took on his previous job for points to surrender.

Without thinking, I stepped into his swing, cutting his momentum short before his axe could come down. Placing my foot behind his, I shoved him with all my strength.

He fell hard, the impact loud enough to echo in the arena. His weapon clattered to the ground, leaving him defenseless.

Before he could recover, I climbed on top of him, pulling out a cloth I'd borrowed earlier and gagging him.

I locked eyes with him as he struggled, his expression shifting from shock to desperation. I wasn't strong enough to resist those struggles so, my fist struck his throat with precision. His body convulsed, choking as he tried and failed to draw air through his nose. His flailing weakened, giving me the advantage to reposition and pin him more securely.

Once again, I locked eyes with him, the weight of my rage settling over me like a storm. "You should have never targeted my friend," I growled.

The rage consumed me. My fist collided with his face over and over, the sickening crunch of bones breaking and flesh tearing barely registering in my ears. The world blurred into a haze of red and static. Only the announcer's voice cut through, pulling me back.

"---tinuing will result in severe punishment."

I froze, my breath heaving. Slowly, I stood, my vision still tinged with red. Before they could order me to the elevator, I grabbed Rorik's ruined body, yanking the gag from his mouth. A weak gurgle escaped his lips, barely audible over his ragged, wet breaths.

I dragged him to the elevator with me.

No soldiers appeared to stop me. Either it wasn't against the rules, they didn't care, or maybe they were just happy I was doing their job for them—as long as I didn't hurt him more.

When the elevator doors opened, gasps rippled through the gathered crowd. Faces turned toward me, a mix of horror and indifference painted across them. Some recoiled at the sight of Rorik's battered, bloodied form. Others seemed unfazed, perhaps accustomed to the gruesomeness of these battles.

I marched directly to the attendant's desk, dropping Rorik unceremoniously at my feet.

"What is the punishment for killing another recruit?" I asked, my voice sharp and cold.

She blinked, visibly taken aback by my question. "Outside the arena, it is… severe. An accidental death in battle results in a loss of five hundred points."

I leaned forward, locking eyes with her, my voice low and deliberate as I emphasized each syllable. "What is severe?"

She hesitated, her face pale. "One thousand points."

A laugh bubbled up from my throat, sharp and humorless. It spilled out uncontrollably, leaving me trembling. I could only imagine how insane I looked. "One thousand points," I repeated, the absurdity of it twisting my expression into a bitter grin. "That's the value of a life here?"

I shook my head, disgusted, and turned toward the group of healers responsible for this mess. Their faces ranged from uneasy to outright fearful as I approached, dragging Rorik's limp form behind me.

"I have more than a thousand," I growled, my voice cutting through the tense silence. "Do not bother us again."

They simply paled, nodding wordlessly before gathering around Rorik. Working collectively, they began to heal him, their hands glowing faintly as they restored his mangled body. Then, without so much as a glance in my direction, they carried him away—no doubt to discuss the loss of their investment.

I turned back toward the desk, holding out my orb. Its faint green glow displayed only 5 points, which then jumped to an astounding 1,665.

I didn't want to face the others. I could feel their gazes on the back of my head, burning with unspoken questions and emotions. I was sure none of them held anything against me—not truly—but my appearance, which I imagined was a mess, couldn't have helped what I could only assume were shocked expressions.

"Sign me up for my daily," I said flatly. "A beast fight."

The attendant nodded, her movements mechanical as she gestured toward the elevator behind her. After depositing the required points, I stepped in without another word.

Inside, I took a moment to examine myself as best I could. My hands were smeared with blood, unbroken for the most part but dotted with scratches from striking bone. My clothes were spattered, the dark stains stark against the fabric. The metallic smell told me my face hadn't fared much better.

The elevator stopped, the doors sliding open to reveal an unfamiliar arena. This one was made to resemble a snowy landscape, the air biting cold and the ground beneath me crunching faintly with frost.

I waited, my breath visible in the icy air.

It didn't take long for the beast to appear.

Even after everything I'd seen, the creatures of this world still took my breath away.

The beast emerged from the snowy expanse like a ghost, its white fur blending seamlessly with the terrain. The only thing that betrayed its presence was the faint shimmer of frost clinging to its pelt, catching the dim light and making it glisten like freshly fallen snow. Its body was sleek and powerful, the rippling of its muscles visible beneath the dense fur with every measured step it took.

Its eyes were the most striking feature—a piercing, unnatural blue that seemed to glow faintly, as though they contained shards of ice. They locked onto me with a predatory intensity, cold and calculating, sending a shiver down my spine that had nothing to do with the frigid air.

The beast's breath misted in the icy arena, curling around its sharp, almost jagged fangs that jutted from its maw. Its long tail swayed behind it, tipped with an icicle-like barb that dripped with frost. Claws, curved and razor-sharp, scraped against the frosted ground, leaving shallow grooves in the ice.

It moved with an unsettling silence, its paws barely making a sound as it prowled closer, circling me. Every step felt deliberate, like it was sizing me up, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

I took a deep breath, focusing on the cold seeping through my boots and the air stinging my lungs.

The panther let out a low growl, the sound reverberating through the frozen air like the groan of ice under pressure. Its breath puffed out in bursts of frost as it crouched low, preparing to lunge.

"Alright," I muttered to myself, tightening my stance. "Let's see what you've got."

I barely had time to react before it lunged, closing the distance in a blur.

I dove to the side, narrowly avoiding its claws. The beast skidded on the icy ground, turning with unnerving agility to face me again. My heart raced as I scrambled to my feet, my breath misting in the cold air.

"Okay," I muttered, circling cautiously. "Fast. Got it."

The panther growled low, stalking me with slow, deliberate steps. I could feel its gaze piercing through me, calculating, waiting.

It feinted to the left before lunging to the right, claws outstretched. I managed to block with my forearm, but the impact sent a jolt of pain through my body. The reinforced energy I'd diffused into my arm held, but the sting reminded me how fragile my defense really was.

I stumbled back, my footing slipping on the frost-coated ground. The panther didn't give me time to recover, closing in with another swipe. I leaned back, barely avoiding its claws as they tore through the air inches from my face.

"Come on, Peter," I muttered, forcing myself to focus. "You've got this… probably."

The beast lunged again, but this time I sidestepped clumsily, my boots skidding on the icy surface. I reached out instinctively, grabbing hold of its fur as it passed me. The panther snarled, twisting violently to shake me off.

Before I could think, I wrapped an arm around its neck, clinging to it as it bucked and thrashed. My grip was loose at first, and the beast managed to claw at my side, tearing through my clothes and drawing blood. Pain shot through me, but I held on, my arms tightening as I adjusted my position.

"Just… stop already!" I grunted, my muscles burning as I struggled to stay on its back.

The panther's movements grew wilder, its tail lashing out and its claws raking against the ground. I could feel its strength waning, but it was still far stronger than I was.

I tried to remember what the commander had said about conserving energy, about staying focused, but all I could think about was not letting go.

The panther reared up, nearly throwing me off, but I used the momentum to tighten my hold around its neck. My arms ached, my fingers screaming for relief, but I grit my teeth and held on.

Slowly, its struggles began to weaken. Its growls turned into labored hisses, its movements sluggish and uncoordinated. Finally, with a final wheeze, it collapsed onto the icy ground, its body heaving with shallow breaths.

Panting, I released my grip and rolled away, lying flat on my back as I tried to catch my breath. My body felt like it had been through a grinder, every muscle screaming in protest.

The panther lay motionless a few feet away, its glowing eyes dim but still open. I could see its chest rising and falling steadily, a sign that it was still alive.

Finally, I sat up, wincing as the pain in my side flared. My hands were bloodied and scratched, my clothes torn and stained with a mix of my own blood and the beast's frost-dusted fur.

I turned my gaze to the panther, its massive body rising and falling with slow, labored breaths. A beast trapped in a situation it had no control over. I knew it was foolish to sympathize with it, but how could I not?

We were the same, weren't we? Forced into a system that gave us no choice, fighting battles we didn't ask for. But its situation was even worse. Would it even survive until tomorrow? Or would it be dragged back here, only to face another recruit in a vicious, endless cycle? At least I got points, progress, a reason to keep fighting. For it, there was nothing. No reward for victory—just survival until the next fight.

"What a life," I murmured, resting a hand on its massive side. Its fur was cold to the touch, but I could feel the faint rhythm of its breathing. "I'd wish you luck, but I'd only be wishing for the death of others. I guess… I hope you can escape one day—go back wherever you came from."

The panther didn't respond, of course. Its eyes were dim, half-closed, and its body was too exhausted to react. But something in its stillness felt like an acknowledgment, or maybe that was just my imagination.

The announcer's voice echoed distantly, a sharp contrast to the quiet moment. I ignored it, rising unsteadily to my feet and limping toward the elevator.

When the doors closed, I leaned against the wall, my chest still heaving as I replayed the fight in my mind.

The elevator descended smoothly, and when it stopped, I stepped out and approached the desk. I handed over my orb, collecting my five points, and watched as the number on it rose to 1,670.

Without a word, I turned and walked toward my friends, the echoes of the battle still rattling in my bones.

I felt hollow, the rush of adrenaline replaced by a gnawing emptiness. The thought of meeting their eyes filled me with unease, but before I could dwell on it, someone wrapped their arms around me.

"This feels familiar," I chuckled weakly, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm sorry," Thea said softly, letting go just as quickly as she'd embraced me. Her expression shifted, and before I could react, she punched me in the arm—hard.

I winced but resisted the urge to say anything.

"We shouldn't have let you do that," she scolded, her voice trembling with a mix of frustration and concern. "But why did you go to another battle without saying anything?!"

Her words hit harder than the punch. I looked at her, seeing the worry etched across her face, and then to Sia and Lyra, who stood nearby with matching looks of concern.

"I just… needed to clear my head," I admitted, my voice quieter than I intended. "Thought it'd be better to come back covered in animal blood than—well, you can see how that turned out." I rubbed the back of my head.

"Anyway," I added quickly, trying to shift the mood, "what's your new blessing?"

Her eyes flickered with something—hesitation, excitement?—before she answered.

"You're not going to believe this."