Wonderful match, don't you think?
The voice slid into Jael's ears like cold oil, smooth and invasive. It came from the darkness beside his cage—too close, far closer than he was comfortable with. The tone was calm, almost amused, yet there was something wrong with it, something hollow beneath the words.
Why did you watch it with such intensity? the voice continued.
Did you see yourself in him?
Jael said nothing.
His gaze remained fixed on the stone floor beneath his bare feet. Dried blood had settled into the cracks, dark and flaky, the smell of iron still lingering faintly in the air. His fingers curled slowly, nails digging into his palms, but he did not lift his head.
You wished to be a part of it, didn't you? the voice chuckled softly.
To run. To fight. To scream.
Jael swallowed.
"It's pointless," he muttered in a low, broken voice. "I'll die here."
The words tasted bitter as they left his mouth, yet saying them out loud made them feel real—final. The colosseum above was still roaring with noise, chants and curses bleeding through the thick stone walls. Somewhere out there, people were celebrating death as entertainment.
"There is no hope," Jael whispered.
For the first time, the voice beside him went quiet.
Then—
Clang.
Heavy iron doors groaned as they were pushed open, the sound echoing through the underground chamber. Torches flared to life one after another, flooding the holding area with flickering orange light.
Jael flinched instinctively.
Footsteps followed—measured, confident, unhurried.
A man stepped inside.
He wore clean noble attire, fabric too fine for a place like this. Dark blue trimmed with silver thread, unblemished by dust or blood. His boots did not hesitate as they walked across the stained stone, as if the filth beneath them did not exist.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, with short blond hair combed neatly back. His dark green eyes swept the room lazily, not with curiosity—but with ownership.
"Where is the new slave?" the man asked.
His voice was deep, carrying easily through the chamber, authoritative without effort.
A guard hurried forward and bowed slightly. "My lord," he said flatly, "he's here. Just a boy—no more than seventeen."
Jael's chest tightened.
"The men who sold him claimed he has awakened," the guard continued. "But he cannot control it. They don't understand how it works."
The nobleman stopped walking.
Slowly, deliberately, his lips curved upward.
"Awakened?" he repeated, amused. "That's… interesting."
He turned his gaze toward Jael's cage.
In that instant, Jael felt it—
That sensation of being seen, not as a person, but as an object. As something to be tested. Broken. Used.
The noble's eyes gleamed.
"Fetch him," the man said casually. "He will start tomorrow."
Tomorrow.
The word echoed inside Jael's head like a death sentence.
The guard hesitated. "My lord… he's weak. If he dies too quickly—"
"That's not your concern," the noble interrupted smoothly. "If he breaks, he breaks. If he survives…" His smile widened. "Then he'll be worth far more."
The air seemed to grow heavier, pressing down on Jael's chest. His breathing became shallow, uneven.
Tomorrow.
The guards moved.
Chains rattled as one of them approached his cage, keys clinking softly. Jael's body refused to move. His legs felt numb, his mind frozen somewhere between terror and disbelief.
This was real.
No awakening ceremony.
No heroic rise.
No escape.
Just this.
As the cage door creaked open, the voice beside him returned, softer now—almost pitying.
"I spoke too soon," it said with a quiet laugh.
"If it's him…"
Jael's fingers trembled as rough hands grabbed his arms and dragged him forward.
"…your death is all but guaranteed."
Jael didn't resist.
As they pulled him into the torchlight, his eyes lifted briefly—just enough to meet the nobleman's gaze.
Cold.
Calculating.
Hungry.
In that moment, Jael understood something with terrifying clarity.
The colosseum was not where people died.
It was where hope was killed first.
And as the chains tightened around his wrists, one thought burned louder than the screams above:
If I don't change… I won't survive tomorrow.