A chance for laughter
Around the designated area of the third deep crimson flag, the slaves which had remained behind even after the conclusion of their own battles were left in utter silence. They could not help but feel that their own scuffle was merely that of children enthralled in a playful exchange of skills when placed beside the sheer brutality of the duel which they laid witness to.
"The… The First Sword lost?!"
Finally, one of the slaves was no longer able to suppress their shock as they blurted out those words, his voice breaching through the previous silence.
Those around that slave, a Dagger Ranker, looked at him with complicated stares. Sure The First Sword had lost, however, was that really so surprising when his opponent was none other than The Crimson Demon?
Perhaps they had already forgotten just how domineering he had been during his reign? Everyone else however, felt a chill travel down their spines. A familiar feeling of fear towards that pale individual with unusual crimson eyes was reigniting within their hearts.
The old king may have truly fallen, but a dragon which loses its wings does not suddenly become equal to a stag— No, if anything, such an injured beast might just grow more ferocious and feral.
Their bodies trembled at the thought of facing the youth before them like The First Sword just did. They all averted their gazes soon after, suddenly eager to have the Record Keepers announce the trial's end. Sure enough, that announcement was not long to arrive. Five minutes after Arren's bloody duel concluded, the Record Keepers loudly proclaimed the end of the exercise.
They then approached the different participants, excluding those taken away for treatment, and offered them their results.
"Walker 248, your performance was beyond excellence. As such, you have earned yourself the full 1,000 award points. This raises your total to 101,300 points…"
The Record Keeper, one long since in charge of his point tracking, stared at Arren with a mixture of emotions. Arren could easily understand what the Record Keeper felt, he was pleased with Arren's display of prowess, however he was also disappointed that it was but a glimpse into a past glory. At the end of it all, since Arren could not wield magic, the focus of this stage and a key factor of his future, he was nothing more than a defective product.
Despite what was normal, the Record Keeper seemed to linger. They seemed to hesitate before adding in a neutral tone.
"Walker 248, there is still one more regular Battle-Grade Day for you to significantly raise your points and rank. Even if you fail to enter the Dagger Rank, the final Battle-Grade Day shall have special rules which shall allow even more points to be acquired. Do not let your talents be condemned to the sand prematurely. Should you survive, you shall make a fine addition to the Slave Army indeed."
Hearing such unexpected encouragement from this familiar figure, Arren's eyes widened and he was left utterly speechless. The Record Keeper did not add anything further, simply signaling to a healer to commence their treatment of Arren's wounds.
And so, the day's trial came to a close.
*****
That evening, when the slaves all were redirected to their underground slave chambers, they could not help but whisper over the many battles which occurred.
They spoke of the vicious skirmish between The Sixth Sword and Golden 1, additionally, they whispered of a Silver Ranker which fought two Golden Rankers and won. They naturally spoke of the poor souls which were unfortunate enough to end up upon an area with a sole member of The 10 Swords.
With no Golden Rankers, or other Ten Swords present to even hope to suppress them, those designated areas all emerged with tails of utter domination and slaughter.
However, even among all the exciting chatter of the different battles, one quickly rose to the top, becoming known to everyone. Of course, it was the duel between The First Sword and The Crimson Demon.
Naturally, everyone knew of their history, however while the result was not necessarily surprising, it had definitely been a bucket of cold water which rudely reminded them that the old king of the previous stage, someone which they had now grown accustom of ridiculing behind his back, was without question still no less vicious than before.
Many slaves suddenly had a deep sense of apprehension emerge within their hearts. From here on, until the day that savage dog was put down, they would take better care to walk softly around him.
Not everyone had felt this way however, all of The 10 Swords for example did not feel threatened by this result whatsoever. They still remembered the days of that crimson brat's reign, but today was but a glimpse into the past. A past far removed from their current present.
Similar thoughts emerged within some of the more prideful Golden and Silver Rankers. As those who stood only beneath The 10 Swords, they felt a sudden urge to suppress Walker 248 before he began thinking things were still the same as the old days.
Luckily for all those who felt so, and perhaps not so much for the subject of their malice, tomorrow was the second to last Battle-Grade Day. A day where the rules which allowed this wingless dragon to scuffle with the best of the best would no longer apply.
After all, within this third stage your skill with magic was everything.
*****
As the chatter within the slave chambers entered a new stage of fervor, the subject of so many conversations was laying down upon his stone bed. His eyes were blankly watching the ceiling of his room without any obvious emotion.
Like usual, almost a routine by now, his heart was filled with worry and doubt. A feeling amplified by the fact that tomorrow promised to be a day of hard struggle, and bitter defeat.
However, before he could truly wallow within such heavy emotions, a familiar voice called out to him.
"Looks like your popularity will know no bounds after today."
Hearing such, Arren smiled softly. He then turned and saw Sieg's familiar smile aimed his way. Arren's worries seemed to take a step back at that moment as he chuckled.
"What can I say? It is the curse of royalty I'm afraid. Even fallen kings can't escape from the minds of those which they once reigned over. Much less when they ruled as efficiently as I did. Perhaps they find this new one unfit? Tell me Sieg, should I ascend the throne once more and fulfill the people's needs?"
Sieg chuckled.
"Efficiently you say? I have never heard a king describe beating their subjects daily until they were but bloody pulps in such a way… Then again, I have never met a king before either."
Arren frowned.
"You dare claim me a false king then?"
"Oh no, your achievements were grand, true, but king? That's a mighty word, too mighty for your skinny body to bear. Hmm, how about Duke? Yeah, that fits you better. The Duke of Slaves! Or rather, The Fallen Duke of Slaves!"
Arren snorted.
"Brat! You're skinnier than me! And I'm lean, not skinny, lean!"
"Huh, who are you calling a brat, you brat!"
The two stared angrily at each other, before they both exploded into laughter. While the rest gossiped over what had occurred and what was yet to transpire, the two friends merely indulge themselves in a moment of joyous repartee.
After all, with what was promised to come, a chance for laughter should never be missed.