A prisoner wagon creaked against the uneven cobblestone road, as if protesting going any further. Metal scraped against metal as the chain cuffs on the prisoners inside rattled while the cart continued down the dark road.
It was only once the wagon entered some sort of building that it came to a sudden stop, snapping Damon's head forward and jolting him awake.
His eyes snapped open.
At first, all he could see was bright light and disoriented shapes moving all around him, followed by a sharp pain in his head.
'Ughh, where am I?'
Slowly, his senses began to return, but before he could even realize what was happening, a loud shout cut through his confusion, directed straight at him.
"Get a move on!"
Just as his gaze landed on the figure before him, an armored figure, most likely some type of soldier, he was forcibly pulled out of the wagon and thrown onto the ground.
THUD!
Damon hit the ground hard, the impact knocked air out of his lungs. The disorientation still lingered, but now he could finally see properly.
As his gaze lifted, he saw countless prisoners standing idly around him, their arms cuffed by heavy chains, their figures wavering as if they hadn't eaten for days.
At the same moment, a sharp pain flared from his wrist. Looking down, he saw the very same chains wrapped tightly around his own arms.
'I'm… a prisoner? What the hell is going on?'
"Get up, you trash!" one of the many soldiers present shouted, cutting his thoughts short.
Not wanting to cause any trouble without understanding what was happening, Damon got up to his feet. The moment he did, the chains on his arms, as well as everyone else's, were yanked forward, dragging the prisoners deeper into the building and through its wide corridors.
The march was slow. Every chain was connected, and with many prisoners resisting, the entire walk became a drag.
But Damon didn't mind. He rubbed his temples, trying to remember what happened, where he was, but he couldn't make any sense of his situation.
Defeated, his gaze lifted to the other prisoners in a hopeless attempt to understand what was happening through them. Yet, what he saw only deepened his confusion.
None of the prisoners had anything in common.
Some were large, well-built figures who looked as though they were made for battle. Others were slender, as if they had never seen a hard day of work in their lives. Some even walked with their chins held high, as though viewing themselves as better than everyone else around them, despite the very same chains clinging to their arms.
Damon's confusion only grew.
But before he could dwell on that unsettling feeling, they entered a massive chamber and came to a sudden stop.
"Halt!" the soldiers shouted, their swords and lances held high as if daring anyone to disobey.
Damon looked around.
This chamber was different from the last. Dark blue bricks lined the walls, thick columns holding up an enormous ceiling. The space was so vast that their group of fifty prisoners and just as many armed guards barely filled it.
Suddenly, a pair of heavy metal doors swung open on the far side of the chamber, and three figures stepped through.
Every soldier present bowed deeply, while most of the prisoners fell to their knees, heads lowered as if a single glance might cost them their lives.
Some, however, remained standing, anger flashing across their faces at the sight of the man before them.
He was tall, with broad shoulders and short gray hair and beard. He wore a neatly pressed uniform instead of armor, countless ornaments decorating every inch of its fabric. His green eyes swept across the prisoners before he turned to his soldiers.
"Get these chains off them," he said. "Do you really think they pose a threat? These non-talented, filthy animals?"
His voice was sharp and commanding.
The soldiers didn't waste a second, removing the chains in silence.
Only once the final cuffs were gone and the rattling of metal faded did the man speak again.
"Consider yourselves lucky. Most…" He paused, as if searching for the right word. "Individuals like you get executed. But as you may know, we have a rebellion to squash. We need sorcerers, and so you were chosen for the third battle royale."
'Battle royale…?'
The words echoed in Damon's mind. They sounded strangely familiar, yet no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't grasp their meaning.
Of course he didn't have long to dwell on them as the man continued speaking.
"The purpose of the battle royale is simple," the man continued. "It exists for you talentless animals to awaken as sorcerers. The rules are also simple… kill or be killed. You will have the opportunity to find a partner. The last pair standing gets to live."
He turned and nodded to one of the soldiers.
"You have five minutes."
The moment he turned away, chaos erupted.
Prisoners rushed to form pairs. Those who looked strong were claimed almost instantly, while the weak struggled desperately to find someone to team up with.
Many tried to sell themselves, shouting empty promises into the crowd.
"I'm a master swordsman!"
"I'm a great archer!"
But words carried no weight here. Everyone judged by appearances alone, and Damon didn't look strong. Far from it.
His malnourished frame gave those around him no confidence. Prisoners avoided his gaze as if it carried a disease, as if even imagining pairing with him might doom them.
Everyone avoided him.
Everyone except one person.
Among the crowd there was another figure that was avoided by all.
A girl with short black hair. Calling her slender would be an understatement. She looked even more malnourished than him, her sunken cheeks and bony arms clearly showing her lack of strength.
At that moment, the girl's head turned and her magenta eyes locked onto him.
An unsettling feeling crept over Damon. The color of her eyes felt wrong, like something that wasn't supposed to exist. And yet, before he could dwell on that strange certainty, a more pressing concern forced the thought aside.
He needed a pair.
He took one last look around.
'Dammit!' he cursed inwardly.
Everyone had paired up. Even those who looked weak had managed to find someone.
There was no one left.
No one except the girl who was now walking hesitantly toward him.
"L-let's pair up," she said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach her magenta eyes.
"Sure," Damon replied.
Though in truth, neither of them had a choice as a sudden voice cut through the chamber.
"Time's up!"