"An elf…?"
Jael's lips barely moved as the words slipped out. His vision blurred, the pale outline of elongated ears burning into his mind as consciousness abandoned him. Darkness swallowed everything.
Clink.
Clink.
The sharp sound of metal dragged him back.
Jael stirred weakly, a dull ache spreading through his skull as his eyes fluttered open. The first thing he felt was cold—biting, unnatural cold that seeped into his bones. The second was restraint.
Chains.
He tried to move his legs.
They didn't budge.
A sharp breath escaped his lips as panic crept in. He lifted his hands, only for iron to scrape against iron. Thick shackles locked his wrists together, connected to the floor of a narrow cage by heavy chains.
"Where… am I…?"
His voice echoed weakly, swallowed almost immediately by darkness.
There was no light.
No walls he could see.
Only the sound of breathing—slow, uneven, coming from somewhere nearby.
Before fear could fully take root, a familiar sensation washed over him.
A screen appeared before his eyes.
Quest: Kill the High Elf
Status: Failed
Rewards: None
Jael stared at the words blankly.
Failed.
So it wasn't a dream.
The cave.
The wall that wasn't there.
The figure emerging from nothing.
"A High Elf…" he muttered hoarsely as memory returned piece by piece. "No wonder…"
His fingers tightened around the chains unconsciously. High Elves weren't just rare—they were monsters wearing beautiful skin. Natural-born spellcasters. Hunters who toyed with prey.
"That explains the ears…"
His voice trailed off.
He waited for the system to respond.
Nothing.
"…System?" he whispered.
Silence.
A tight knot formed in his chest. The absence felt heavier than any chain.
Jael forced himself to focus on his surroundings.
The air was thick—stale and heavy, reeking of blood and rust. Every breath tasted metallic. The ground beneath him felt uneven, damp in places, sticky in others. Wherever he was, this place had seen suffering.
A low groan echoed faintly from somewhere to his left.
Another prisoner.
His throat tightened.
"I finally became a war slave, huh…" Jael said quietly, the words sinking deeper than he expected.
War slaves.
He had heard the stories.
Captured awakened. Broken fighters. Thrown into arenas for entertainment—used until their bodies failed or their minds shattered. No graves. No names. Just corpses dragged away when the crowd got bored.
After a long moment, something hot slid down his cheek.
Tears.
He didn't bother wiping them away.
"I'll die here…" he whispered into the darkness.
"I'll die here…"
The words repeated, hollow and numb.
Desperation surged.
Jael grabbed the iron collar around his neck and pulled with everything he had.
Pain exploded.
A searing shock shot through his spine, lightning ripping through his nerves. His scream tore from his throat as his body convulsed violently, muscles locking as agony drowned his thoughts.
He collapsed forward, gasping.
A calm voice cut through the darkness.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
Jael froze.
The voice was close.
Too close.
"Or maybe it's your wish to die faster," the voice continued, amused. "The choice is yours."
Jael swallowed hard, his heart hammering.
"Who… who's there?" he asked.
Chains rattled softly as something shifted.
"You don't need to see me," the voice replied. "Not yet."
There was a pause.
"…You're new," the voice added. "I can tell."
Jael clenched his fists. "What happens to people like me?"
A low chuckle echoed.
"Depends," the voice said. "If you're lucky, you die on your first match. If you're unlucky… you survive."
"That doesn't sound unlucky," Jael muttered bitterly.
"Oh, it is," the voice replied calmly. "Because surviving means they'll keep breaking you. Again and again. Until you stop being human."
Jael's breath hitched.
"…How long have you been here?" he asked.
"Long enough to forget the sky," the voice answered.
Silence stretched.
Then Jael felt it.
A faint pressure in his mind.
A presence.
The system screen flickered.