After roughly thirty minutes, Kael finally arrived at his destination. Emerging from the maze of dark alleys, he found himself standing before a small, shadowed plaza. In the center stood a two-story building, clearly in much better shape than the dilapidated homes surrounding it.
Most of the slums consisted of single-story, square houses built haphazardly, creating the maze of dark alleys that stretched throughout. These homes often had brick-like foundations, while the walls and roofs were made from scavenged materials—most commonly a mix of clay, mud, and dried straw.
That's why the sight of the house, built entirely from neatly placed bricks, was so impressive. Even more remarkable were the visible wooden parts, such as the door and shutters. Wood was incredibly rare and expensive in the slums, as most of the trees had been cut down and imported to the official districts long before the slums were even established.
Such quality clearly indicated that the building belonged to someone of considerable renown and power—and that's exactly what it was. This building served as the headquarters of Kael's gang. Though numbering only around thirty members, classifying them among the less powerful gangs, each was a seasoned fighter from the Colosseum, having fought for survival from a young age.
There weren't many ways to keep yourself entertained in the slums, which is why the Colosseum gained such popularity. Young kids, mostly orphans who couldn't afford food or water, were often given invitations to fight there. As long as they battled other people, hordes of mutated rats, or whatever twisted challenges those sick masters concocted, they would be fed, clothed, and armed. For these children, the brutal arena became a harsh but necessary escape from their bleak existence.
However, it wasn't just children who fought in the Colosseum. Many adults also joined in, and matches featuring multiple kids pitted against a single adult were among the crowd's favorites.
As warriors climbed the ranks and gained popularity, they could eventually challenge one of the twelve champions of the Colosseum. Few survived the trials of this brutal arena, and even fewer emerged alive from a fight with the champions. These elite fighters were the best of the best, treated with the respect and privilege they had earned. Alongside the leaders of the most powerful gangs, they enjoyed a relatively decent life—one filled with power, food, and women. They were regarded as the "nobility" of the slums. Ironically, the most common cause of death among them was old age, as many in this privileged class often lived to fifty—twenty years longer than the average lifespan of just thirty in the unforgiving slums.
That didn't mean they were invincible. Despite often being at the peak of human physique, they were still only human, and a single misstep could cost them their lives. Every few years, an especially talented fighter would rise up and take down a powerful champion.
If a champion managed to survive the fight, they would be stripped of all their status, wealth, and influence, cast into the unforgiving depths of the slums.
Kael was certain that the man who had caused him so much trouble must have come from such a background. How else could his exceptional skills be explained?
Kael was one of the many children who accepted the invitation to the Colosseum. It was roughly a month after his mother's death. After miraculously surviving the harsh conditions of the slums for an entire month, the seven-year-old boy, desperately clinging to life, had no choice but to accept the invitation.
What followed were years of torturous pain and suffering, alongside an endless amount of practice and training.
In a twisted, perverse way, Kael was actually thankful to the Colosseum. While it subjected him to terrible suffering and stripped away much of his humanity—something his mother had desperately wanted him to retain—it also forged him into one of the most fearsome fighters in the slums and opened the door to meeting his future gang members.
Contrary to popular belief, no one was forced to stay in the Colosseum. Sure, fighters had to return their clothes and weapons, but beyond that, there were no strings attached. Those who lacked the will to fight were not entertaining to watch. The sad truth was that many people had nowhere else to go, and the endless battles became the fuel that sustained their miserable lives.
That's how, at fifteen, Kael found himself in a growing group of youths, which steadily increased in size over time. Being the most experienced and skilled among them, many looked up to him as a mentor. It was during this period that the idea of forming his own elite gang began to take root in his mind.
While Kael had often contemplated leaving the Colosseum, he had never envisioned it happening in this way.
After another two years, a group of thirty-six teenagers, forged in endless battles and united by strong camaraderie, left the Colosseum, led by none other than the seventeen-year-old Kael.
Slowly but surely, the gang made a name for themselves and secured a fair share of territory. Of course, this did not come without trouble, as the new territory had belonged to someone else before. This is how Kael and his group found themselves in a "war" with another, slightly larger gang.
It couldn't be called a full-fledged war, as it mostly consisted of minor skirmishes, harassment of the other territory's citizens, and discreet theft.
Kael was fairly certain that the three thugs he had just encountered had been promised positions in the enemy gang if they succeeded.
"Too bad it didn't work out for them," Kael thought, a slight smile creeping onto his face.
Finally abandoning the memories of his past, Kael found himself knocking on the locked door of the building. After a while, a muffled woman's voice came from inside.
"Who the hell is banging on my door at this hour? You better have a damn good reason, or I swear I'll make you regret it!"
Then the door flew open. Blinded by the sudden light, Kael took a step back, blinking a bit before regaining his vision. Finally, he could make out a female figure standing at the door, clearly displeased to see him.
"What do you want, you rat—wait, is that you, boss? Where the hell have you been so long? And what the hell happened to your side?"