After the incident—after the bluff that had shaken the foundation of the slave pit—Armin sat still in the dim-lit room. A chipped plate lay before him, steam rising off rice and a viscous curry that smelled better than anything he'd eaten in days.
The atmosphere was tense. The other slaves kept their distance, wary gazes cutting across the room like blades. Armin could feel it. Their fear. Not just of him, but of what he'd done. He had challenged a higher-up. A fat, rotund bastard who treated lives like coins in a betting pool. If Armin died in the colosseum, there was no telling what that pig would do to the rest of them.
That silence cracked.
"You!" A guard barked, slamming the iron door open and pointing directly at him.
Armin looked up. "Yes."
"Be ready. Your match is in a few minutes." With that, the guard left, boots echoing down the hallway.
Armin leaned back. "That early… the pig really wants me dead, huh?" he thought, dry amusement curling in his gut.
From the side, two small shadows stepped forward.
The human children.
Even after what he did, they looked at him like he was a monster who might just decide to feast on them later. Their steps were hesitant, shoes barely scraping the floor.
The girl spoke first, her voice trembling. "We… are sorry for troubling you!"
"Please forgive us!" the younger boy added, bowing low.
Armin didn't say anything for a moment.
Then, wordlessly, he lifted a hand and gently patted their heads. They flinched—but didn't pull away. His touch was soft. Awkward. Careful. Protective.
"Sit." he murmured. Not an order. A nudge.
The two of them sat cross-legged beside him, like students next to an odd teacher. He rolled some rice and curry together with his fingers, then brought the bite to the girl's mouth.
She hesitated, eyes flicking between the food and his blood-red irises. Then, bracing herself, she took the bite.
A moment passed.
Her expression bloomed into a soft smile as she chewed and swallowed.
He did the same for the boy, and finally took a small bite for himself.
Around them, no one spoke.
The goblins continued chattering and shrieking in their corner, completely uninterested. The dwarves stared, impassive behind thick beards and rough eyes. And the other demons… just watched. No words. No judgment.
A shadow loomed beside them.
"I never thought I'd see a demon feeding human slaves like this," came a gravelly voice.
The large blue troll crouched down, tusks gleaming under torchlight. His tribal tattoos inked across rippling muscle. His eyes were dark and calm.
The children stared up at him, amazed. Their mouths slightly open.
"Scared?" the troll teased.
The boy blinked. "Cool…"
The troll blinked too, taken aback for a second before grunting and composing himself.
"Anyway… I'm Jubak."
Armin wiped rice from the corners of the children's mouths. "My name's Arminius," he said, "You can call me Armin."
The girl sat up straight, brushing dust off her dress. "My name is Eirene," she said with grace beyond her years.
"I'm Dike!" the boy chirped right after, mimicking her tone.
Armin turned to the troll. "Why are you here?"
Jubak's face darkened. "My forest was burned. I bought time for my people to escape. That's all."
Armin nodded, but didn't pry.
He looked down at the children. He wouldn't ask them. Not yet. He didn't want to risk reopening wounds that had barely closed.
Instead, he turned to Jubak. "Lay down. It'll be over soon… Can I trust you to look after them while I fight?"
Jubak raised a brow. "You're protecting the race that's been your races mortal enemy for thousands of years?"
"You protected your people, didn't you?" Armin asked.
"Yes. My people."
"Demons have burned forests too, haven't they? But you showed me no hostility."
"…That's not—" the troll began but stopped,he had sensed he had lost. Then sighed. "Fine. I'll take care of the brats."
Armin smiled. "Thanks."
Sandstone walls whispered with heat as the iron gate creaked open.
Jubak stood at the threshold, holding Dike gently in one arm while Eirene clung to his leg. The two children watched with wide, unsure eyes as Armin stepped through the hallway into blinding sunlight.
He emerged into a roar.
Thousands of voices rose like a storm. The colosseum towered around him, rows upon rows of faces—some painted in war paint, others in gold and silk. The mob cheered, some booed, some threw scraps of food.
VIPs sat in polished balconies. Merchants climbed onto ledges to get a better view.
Armin had no armor—just the clothes on his back from before and the colosseum-issued iron blade in his hand.
Across the arena, a gate rumbled open.
Thudding steps echoed.
A familiar beast stepped out.
Terror. Pride. Power.
Feathers like obsidian blades. Eyes like fire.
[CAPTURED DURING THE GREAT STAMPEEEEEDE!! INTRODUCING THE REMUUUUUUS BIIIIIRDDD!!]
The creature shrieked—its beak sharper than steel, long neck swaying like a whip. Though flightless, it needed no wings. Its legs were built like siege weapons.
"The bird that killed me," Armin thought. "That one was an adult. This one's a juvenile."
Still, it was massive. Still, it was fast. Still, it could kill.
The Remus Bird tensed.
It darted forward.
Wind exploded as it dashed, sending sand flying in a tornado of power.
The crowd gasped. The announcer was about to call it.
[WELP! SEEMS AS THOUGH HE WAS A WE—]
But the announcer paused.
The Remus Bird shrieked.
"CAUGHHH!"
Its legs buckled.
Iron glinted in the light.
Armin stood beneath it.
His blade jammed into both knees of the bird—precise, clean, fast.
The beast screamed.
Armin's eyes burned red.
And the crowd—fell silent.
And then they roared!!
Armin slashed his blade free from the flesh.
'The best way to engage a speedster… disrupt their range of motion.'
He thought coldly, eyes following the injured creature as it tried to gain footing again.
He tensed his muscles.
SLASH!
[Swordsmanship is advancing…]
The Remus Bird shrieked in fury and pain, its sharp beak pecking at him in blind retaliation. One of the attacks landed—a crack echoed as its beak slammed into his shoulder.
Armin stumbled, pain lancing through his body. But before the crowd could cheer or jeer—
His flesh pulsed.
The wound began to close.
The audience murmured.
[IT SEEMS OUR CONTESTANT HAS A FEW DAGGERS HIDDEN IN HIS SHEATH!]
The announcer's voice blared, speaking in metaphor. The demons in the stands chuckled and howled. That was their way of saying: "He's got some tricks."
Armin smirked. A sharp, cocky grin across his face.
"Fucking bird…" he growled, not in hatred, but in amusement. A teasing smile danced on his lips.
The bird whimpered.
Its legs were still injured. Bloodied. One of them hung limp and twitching.
But it didn't give up. It planted the other limb into the ground and braced—
With a loud whoosh, wind exploded outward.
A miniature sandstorm covered the battlefield as the bird darted across to the far side. But it was too fast, too hurt, too reckless—
It tripped.
Fell.
Armin didn't wait.
He sprinted through the swirling sand, closing the gap before the beast could rise.
With a final downward slash—
SCHLK!
The sound of blade through bone.
The crowd gasped.
The bird's head rolled.
Blood sprayed across the dirt.
[THE NEW CHALLENGER HAS DONE IT! HE HAS DEFEATED THE REMUS BIRD!]
Thousands roared—half in outrage, half in thrill. Booing mixed with cheers. Coins and bones thrown into the pit in celebration or scorn.
In the stands, the pig-faced demon with shark teeth turned beet red. His fury was palpable. His snout flared as steam left his nostrils. He looked like he might explode.
It was… comical.
In the center of it all, Armin just stared.
At the bird's severed head.
Its eyes, once filled with rage and instinct, now held stillness.
It was an animal.
A soul.
A living being forced into this madness just like him.
♢
A golden diamond appeared above its body.
Only he could see it.
He reached out with his mind.
[EXP gained]
[Abilities enhancing…]
A wave of something strange coursed through him—speed, vision, instinct. The gifts of the bird now his own.
He sat down in the bloodstained sand.
Closed his eyes.
And silently whispered.
"Rest well, little one."
End of Chapter-016