Chapter 34: Three Months in Chains
Kaiden stood at the edge of the colosseum arena, his chest rising and falling steadily as the roar of the crowd swelled around him. The bloodied sand beneath his feet told countless stories of battles—his own victories etched among them now.
But his mind wasn't on the fight he'd just won. It wasn't on the cheers or even the silver card that now sat securely in his belt pouch.
No, Kaiden's thoughts drifted back over the past three months.
The First Month
It had been a week after Kaiden was marked when Seris arrived at Kasir's mansion. Kaiden remembered watching her from one of the higher balconies as she strode up the marble steps, her face set in an expression of cold fury. She wasn't angry at him—he could tell that much. The anger was directed squarely at Kasir.
Kasir, of course, had greeted her with the same disarming smile he always wore. "Lady Seris," he said warmly, his tone syrupy. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
Seris wasted no time. "I'm here for him. The boy."
Kaiden remembered tensing when he heard those words. He'd leaned forward slightly, straining to hear what was happening.
"I'll pay," Seris continued, her voice unwavering. "Five hundred thousand. That's more than generous for a slave, isn't it?"
Kasir didn't even blink. He gestured toward a chair, inviting her to sit, but she remained standing.
"Lady Seris," he said, a hint of mockery creeping into his tone. "I'm afraid you misunderstand. It's not a matter of price. You see…" He reached up and tapped his own neck, mimicking the placement of the rose tattoo on Kaiden's. "He's mine now. Permanently."
Seris's hand twitched, and for a moment, Kaiden thought she might strike him. But instead, she turned on her heel and walked out, her cloak billowing behind her.
Kaiden hadn't known how to feel about that encounter. She had tried to buy his freedom, but it hadn't worked.
On one of his walks to the colosseum that same month, Kaiden had run into Garin. The man had been leaning against a wall, arms crossed, his sharp eyes watching Kaiden approach.
Garin had burst out laughing the moment their eyes met. "Of all the dumb things you could've done, this takes the cake."
Kaiden frowned, stopping in front of him. "You're not mad?"
"Mad?" Garin tilted his head back, still chuckling. "What do I care? You're a slave now. Doesn't change my life one bit."
Kaiden had gritted his teeth at that, his hands balling into fists. "You really don't care?"
Garin's grin widened. "As long as you're not interfering with my money, why would I? Besides…" He leaned in closer, his tone dropping to a whisper. "You'll figure out how to climb out of this mess. Or you won't. Either way, it's not my problem."
Kaiden had walked away without another word, the man's laughter following him down the street.
The Second Month
The second month had brought a new challenge—one Kaiden hadn't anticipated.
He'd been approached by a grizzled old fighter at the colosseum, a man who introduced himself as part of the coliseums officials. Kaiden had heard of them before—a secretive group that trained warriors tha t knew advanced techniques.
The man had looked him up and down, nodding slightly. "You've got potential, kid. Sloppy, but potential. You wanna learn, or you wanna stay in Bronze forever?"
Kaiden hadn't hesitated. He'd agreed to train under them, not because he trusted the man or the group, but because he needed every edge he could get.
The training was grueling. Kaiden spent hours each day drilling workouts he barely understood, his muscles screaming in protest. Theman didn't explain much, their methods shrouded in secrecy.
But Kaiden could feel himself improving. His movements became sharper, his strikes more precise. And though he couldn't compare their workouts to anything he'd learned before, something about them felt… right.(he has reached apprentice in vanguards grip enough for the styles to be named techniques)
The Third Month
By the third month, Kaiden had earned his silver card. Twenty victories, no losses.
The fights had been brutal, each opponent more skilled and ruthless than the last. But Kaiden had pushed through, relying on his growing and his determination to survive.
He'd started to settle into a routine, training at the colosseum during the day and returning to Kasir's mansion at night. His room was a far cry from the cramped slave quarters he'd expected, and though it was comfortable, it never felt like home.
No matter how well he fought or how much he trained, Kaiden couldn't forget his goal.
Elira.
He didn't know where she was or what Kasir had done with her. And every time he thought about the burning inn, his chest tightened with guilt.
One evening, Kasir had summoned him to the main hall.
"I have a task for you," Kasir said, his tone light. "My son will be returning from his studies soon. I'm going over there to pick him up with some of my guard i want you to watch the house with the elite guards tho
Kaiden had nodded, his expression neutral. But inwardly, his mind raced.
Kasir's guards were some of the most elite fighters he'd ever seen—far stronger than anyone he'd faced in the colosseum. If Elira was still alive, they might be the ones keeping her captive.
And now, Kaiden was being sent straight to them.
For the first time in three months, he felt ready. Ready to fight, ready to uncover the truth, and ready to take back what had been taken from him.
As Kaiden stared at his reflection in the silver card that night, he clenched his fist.
"Three months," he muttered. "Three months of surviving. Now it's time to act."