The night was as dark as ink, deep and tranquil, enveloping the entire LB Arena in shadowy stillness. Elmo returned to his lair, comfortably sinking into a large rocking chair with a cigar clutched in his hand, gently exhaling swirling smoke as if everything were under his control.
"Tell Augustus I want to train a group of elite gladiators to prepare for the tournament of champions from across the continent three years from now. Remember, I want the best; otherwise, there's no reason for you to remain here." His deep, commanding voice pierced the tranquil air, exuding undeniable authority. Upon hearing this, several subordinates immediately perked up and hurried out of the room to convey Elmo's orders.
Joseph stood quietly behind Elmo, awaiting further instruction. "Joseph, is that boy settled in?" Elmo turned to ask, a fleeting, inscrutable glint in his eyes. "Yes, my lord; he has been sent to the cell," Joseph replied succinctly.
"Hmm, that boy seems to possess an unusual charm," Elmo said, taking a deep breath and blowing out a smoke ring as if lost in thought. "What do you think, Joseph?"
"Cold and ruthless, a natural-born gladiator," Joseph replied, remaining expressionless beside Elmo.
Elmo didn't respond to Joseph's words, instead gazing up at the ceiling with a look that became deep and distant.
---
"Stay put and don't move!" Finn was roughly tossed into a cell, taking a while to get back on his feet.
This high-ranking gladiator's cell resembled a spacious corridor, lined with interconnected cages on either side, leaving a passage wide enough for six people to walk side by side. Besides the unyielding rock wall at the back, the other three sides were surrounded by iron bars the thickness of an arm, with gaps so narrow that even three fingers could hardly pass through.
Finn was placed in the innermost cell, a single room that clearly reflected Elmo's special treatment of him. The cell was constructed with three sides of iron bars and one stone wall, one of the bars facing directly into the arena. Being on the ground floor allowed Finn to clearly see the entire circular arena and the pairs of crimson eyes glaring at him from behind the thick bars of the opposite stands.
Finn found a relatively cool corner, slowly lay down, and closed his weary eyes. In this brutal world, he had lost all goals and expectations, with the sole desire to survive.
Although the sunlight was as bright as gold, it felt harsh and merciless on this vast, sandy plain. Even those accustomed to the desert avoided such oppressive heat, let alone Finn, who had grown up in cool forests and detested the heat. He had never realized how strong his aversion to the scorching sun and heat was, and even the sinking sun on the horizon felt unbearable. Thus, he hid in the shadows beneath the bed of his cell, not wanting to move.
Next to Finn was a rather peculiar cell. Inside curled a person nestled in a pile of moldy straw, seemingly avoiding the sunlight as well, slumped in the corner's shadow, dressed in ragged clothes that seemed devoid of life. Three whole hours had passed since Finn entered his cell, yet the person remained motionless, like a corpse.
Although this was a prison cell, it was unlike the ordinary gladiator cells. As the residence of a high-ranking gladiator, it maintained a basic level of cleanliness and was equipped with some modest basic necessities. Even Finn's smallest room displayed several practical items.
At this moment, it was nearing dinner time, and the gladiators were busying themselves. Some were carefully sharpening their weapons, making them even more lethal; others chatted and laughed with familiar faces, sharing stories. They all looked forward to the chef bringing the mouth-watering evening meal as soon as possible.
However, in the peculiar cell next to Finn's, the person in the pile of straw still showed no signs of movement. He lay quietly in the shadow of the wall, as if completely cut off from the world, unaware of everything around him.
"Is he dead?" Finn thought to himself. In this vibrant world of gladiators, "Is he dead?" Finn thought to himself. In this vibrant world of gladiators, surprisingly, there are people similar to him who don't even want to eat for fear of the sun.
"Hey, kid, you're new here, right? I didn't expect a kid to squeeze into our area. Our food here is much better than in other gladiator zones; you're lucky. By the way, I still don't know your name. Kid, what's your name?" A burly man holding an axe in the opposite cell asked with a naive smile, casually waving the cold, sharp axe in his hand. His scarred face revealed a fierce look, and his bushy beard made it hard to see his lips when he spoke.
Finn glanced at the man but didn't respond, he didn't even feel like speaking.
"Hey, kid, I'm talking to you! You dare ignore me?" The man, known for his short temper, was incensed that Finn didn't acknowledge him.
"Brute, can you think before you act? You may look scary, but waving such a big axe while talking can frighten the poor kid," said a refined man in a white robe from the adjacent cell, elegantly fanning himself. His fair complexion made it hard to believe he was a gladiator, and his long eyebrows framed a pair of beautiful light blue eyes.
"Elijah, stop bantering with me. What's wrong with not using my head? I'm just worried this little guy might not adjust well. No need for you to butt in," Brute shouted back, displeased.
"I'm not interested in you right now. Kid, what's your name?" Elijah asked Finn gently, but it had no effect. Finn merely lay there with his eyes half-closed.
"Hahaha, Elijah, look at you today! You said I was ugly, but being pretty doesn't help you here," Brute laughed heartily at Elijah's embarrassment.
"Hey? Ignoring me?" Elijah's face broke into an innocent smile as he lightly tapped his head with his fan, then looked meaningfully at Finn and stretched his body. "It's about time; I'm getting a bit hungry."
During their conversation, not a single gladiator interjected, as their identities and abilities commanded respect from both fellow gladiators and arena staff. They were two of the three undefeated gladiators of LB Arena, undefeated meaning they had never lost a match. Both had competed in over fifty matches without sustaining any injuries, their strength was fearsome.
Before long, several men pushed in large food carts; dinner had begun. This was the liveliest time in the cells, and the atmosphere was bustling. You could hear the voices of other gladiators from neighboring areas—some singing, some laughing uproariously, and others shouting, creating a lively atmosphere.
Amid the loud eating and drinking, only two people's meals remained untouched: one was Finn, and the other was the person nestled in the straw pile next to him.
"Hey, little guy, are you mute? Don't you know how to eat? Or have you quietly passed away?" Brute said, mouth full of beef, as he slammed his massive axe against the iron bars, creating a deafening noise. "Hey, don't really pretend to be dead!"
"Come on, Brute, open your eyes and look closely; that kid is clearly still breathing weakly. He might be scared out of his wits. And could you please stop banging that broken axe against the bars? It's really annoying," Elijah said elegantly, setting down his utensils and gently wiping his mouth, then savoring a sip of Everlasting wine (a top-quality brew specifically provided for elite gladiators). He spoke to Brute with an evident tone of displeasure.
"I just love banging it; I enjoy that sound. To me, it's music," Brute exclaimed, not yielding to Elijah's complaint and banging even harder.
Ignoring Brute's provocation, Elijah slowly walked towards the corridor.
"Hey, where are you going?" Brute shouted.
"I can't stand this noise; I'm going out to enjoy the Afterglow of the Sun and let this tranquil and elegant night cleanse my ears," Elijah's voice faded away, leaving behind a tranquil space.
As the echoes of dinner gradually faded, the gladiators busied themselves, some preparing the equipment needed for the next day's training, while others simply collapsed onto their makeshift beds, sinking into sleep. The sun slowly dipped behind the distant mountains, and a crescent moon quietly rose on the eastern horizon, draping the earth in a layer of silver veil. The golden sunlight faded away, and the north wind began to rise, bringing a hint of chill that permeated the air.
Finn gently stretched his stiff body and slowly stood up from the ground. Through the gaps in the railing, he gazed up at the dazzling starry sky. The evening breeze gently brushed against him, scattering his tousled hair and bringing a refreshing coolness that was invigorating. As night deepened, the earth was enveloped in a thick silence, only occasionally broken by the distant chirping of insects, which seemed to whisper the secrets of the night.
In this sleeping world, no one noticed the man curled up in the straw pile, trembling gently, as if just awakening from a deep slumber. Amidst the straw, a pair of bright eyes sparkled in the darkness, radiating a striking glow even in the dim light, hinting at an unusual aura.