Shadow Slave

After a while, shrouded in darkness, Elyas suddenly spoke, addressing Sunny in his usual one-sided manner.

In the past weeks, the young Awakened had developed a habit of sometimes speaking to his demonic partner, even though the frightening creature could not respond with anything more than an occasional nod, a shake of the head, or an indifferent shrug. Talking to Shadow was not much of a conversation, but...

Perhaps this was one of the few things that were keeping him sane.

…Sunny could understand why the youth had to do that, since his own inability to talk was one of the things that were driving him mad, that was robbing him of even more of his humanity.

"Hey, demon. Do you… do you think it's true? About the wooden sword…"

Sunny stared at the young man, then shrugged. He had no opinion on that topic, since he didn't know what the wooden sword was.

Elyas sighed.

"Before the Warmongers captured us, I had heard of their cruel Trials. Everyone back home has, really. The horrors of the Red Colosseum is something every parent tells their children, to make them behave."

He grew silent, and then continued after some time, his voice even:

"...But they also say that there is a way to escape this terrible place. If one is brave enough… if they are righteous enough… then they would eventually be given a wooden sword, and earn the right to fight for their freedom."

slightly, tilting

nice

if he thought that the worshippers of War were going to just let them go. Bravery, righteousness… these concepts were alien to the insane

they understood it

had spent enough time observing the Warriors — or Warmongers, as Elyas called them — to understand that they were not evil people, or at least did not consider themselves as such. Their worldview was twisted and ruthlessly cruel, but

to achieve glory, and the struggle itself was the most glorious thing. That was why they were happy and joyful when watching their new favorite, Shadow, slaughter his way through the arena, no matter who or what he was killing —

while struggling against an overwhelming foe was the highest form of glory. Dying by his hand was

being killed by a stronger enemy… was to kill

as a benevolent gift. The slaves were not forced to slaughter each other for the entertainment of the crowd. Instead, they were generously given a chance to

any of the slaves would ever be allowed to walk free of the colosseum. Doing so would be the greatest sin, a shameful offense that the Warmongers, in their perverse benevolence, would never

would have been

'Damned lunatics…'

In fact, he was pretty certain that this murderous sect had been born here, in the Kingdom of Hope. The slavers he had met in the

of Hope was a very strange place throughout, from what little he had gathered from Elyas's

sent into a time period around a thousand years after the destruction of the real kingdom by Sun God. Now, only the name remained. People inhabiting these lands did not even know who the Demon of Desire was, really, only that she had been

their duty was to guard

kingdom were led by seven lords. Or rather,

at the center of the region, surrounded by a large city — the