****(POV)
That is how I t the man I would co to call my brother.
He was never the smartest one.
He was never the bravest one either.
His only redeeming qualities were his cheerful personality and his ability to read people.
Getting captured and sold as a slave did dampen his spirit a lot.
When we first t he seed more dead than alive.
Just a shadow of his forr self that would chanically accomplish things.
He would fight.
He would eat.
He would sleep.
Rinse and repeat.
That was all that his existence amounted to.
He had no dreams or hopes for the future.
He had given up a while ago already.
But then he saw .
He would describe the mont in great detail afterward.
He used to have that old habit to try and gauge people.
To try and figure out their thoughts.
To try and figure out their personality.
All from seeing the way they talked and moved.
He would get their current ntal state easily from experience.
He told that back then he wasn't even thinking.
Ever.
But sohow that old habit of his would still activate.
He would pass every face and see despair, agony, and lancholy.
Not when he saw .
He saw hope.
He saw a living being in a pack of dead n.
The shock was so big that it drove him off of his constant stupor.
It brought back life to an otherwise dying man.
He would often say that I was the brightest fla that he'd ever seen.
For no matter the situation my drive wouldn't ever be extinguished.
He told many tis how much he admired for it.
He then decided he would help in my endeavors.
Of course, at first, I didn't tell him anything.
He just figured it out by himself.
Figured out the whole plan that I had.
Figured out that I was still clinging to the hopes of vengeance.
Decided that he would show the example. That he would man up and show so courage. Knowing that I was younger than him at the ti must have been bad on the ego.
Well in fact he was really smart, in his own way.
He just wouldn't accept it.
He always felt like it would segregate him from the others.
In any case, we started interacting more and more.
At so point, I shared my theory on how to survive this place.
The goal was to win, but never by much.
That's when we started seriously training.
Thinking back on it we were truly lucky.
As young contestants, we would be given weaker opponents.
So we actually stood a chance against.
Sothing I learned was that in such an environnt it was kill or be killed.
Ironically, I think I was pretty popular in the ring.
Anyone going against would die.
Don't get wrong, I wasn't strong.
It was just that I was the only one with a will to live.
Out of all my fights most would end up with my opponent kicking the bucket.
I always made sure to try to do the deed in the goriest and least painful way.
One clean slash that would end it all.
Both for the public and the opponent's sake.
When I would stare into the eyes of my victims, I would often see relief.
Finally being free of the suffering.
Finally freed of this shithole.
This brother of mine was the other spark in the entire arena.
Well besides the slaughterers that would laugh as they ripped people in half.
He would always manage to live, but always with so injuries.
It wasn't by choice either.
He would go against stronger opponents than .
The problem is he was actually less skilled than .
As soone from a well-off family, I did have a bit of swordsmanship training.
This was giving an edge in a place like this.
I would cut opponents until night ca. I would then sleep a bit and train.
I would also solidify my convictions daily.
Work toward my goal.
I would imagine every executive's face bashed in and covered in blood.
Then fantasize about killing them in the ring.
How aweso it would be!
Thus the days turned into weeks and months.
At so point, I lost track of ti.
All I knew was that my body was growing and that I was still waiting for an opportunity.
One that perhaps would never co.
At so point, I reached the level where I could kill so rank 2 warriors.
Only the weakest of them.
If anything they were so demoralized that it made it way easier.
I beca used to harvesting lives as easily as farrs harvest grain.
I would still be bidding my ti.
Killing and slaying and causing bloodshed.
Waiting patiently.
There would never be a shortage of lives to reap.
Either from bandits looking to make an extra penny, or sects selling their defeated foes, or poor villagers selling their children.
All were accepted in this at grinder.
Temporary visitors that most often than not would disappear quickly.
Most of them anyway.
I could have kept living such a life for a while.
Sa for the man I called my brother.
We had a system that worked.
Lie low.
Get loved enough by the spectators to be valuable rchandise, but not too much to attract greed.
Just a constant balancing act.
One at the precipice of death.
We could have kept enduring.
For a while longer.
Sadly ca sothing unexpected.
Humans killing other humans beca boring to most.
The spectators began asking for more.
A bunch of bloodthirsty bastards.
In normal circumstances, it wouldn't have mattered much.
There are always people asking for the impossible.
Except that in this specific case it wasn't actually impossible.
Simply troubleso.
The beast tide that caused to get caught in the first place would screw over again.
They found so captured savage beasts.
Of course, they decided it would be fun to add these to the deathmatches.
Ones that would be more original and entertaining.
It was the very mont that would turn my life upside down once again.
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