The slaves around the arena were unsure of what to do since Godan had left and didn’t give any orders. They weren’t sure if they could do anything or if they would be punished for not doing anything.
Suddenly, a man with long brown hair entered the arena and picked up Navia, placing her on his shoulder. “Get moving! Begin the next fight before Godan decides on another execution!” The man shouted and woke up the confused slaves from their daze. They looked around each other, figuring out who was supposed to fight next as it was a better fate than death from Godan’s hands.
Before the next fight could even begin, the man left with Navia on his shoulder. He placed her on the bed in her cell and looked closely at her wounds. His body melting and turning into a woman that Navia previously spoke with, The Voice, The Observer.
Her face was hidden behind the veil, but the slightest movement of her mouth was enough to show her emotions. It was disappointment. “Godan was a simple man without any previous experience in true battle. After his resurrection, he changed and became stronger… I thought that turning someone who is already experienced would change them into someone much stronger. Someone who could kill God’s Finger…”
Her gaze moved from the wounds toward Navia’s face. A mixture of confidence and pain on her sleeping face. “You really thought that was enough? How pitiful… You didn’t do enough. But you didn’t do less. I won’t abandon you, but I won’t help you either. I’ll observe as always and wait till you prove yourself.”
The woman stood back up and was about to leave, but she stopped as Godan blocked the exit. “You told me she would be one of the strongest out there. You lied… Or at least your assumption of her was wrong. She is worthless.” He said, trying his best to hide his anger and frustration, but his expression couldn’t hide it, and neither could his voice.
The woman in a black dress slowly walked toward Godan as she talked. “Yes. She is worthless. Currently. That’s why the only reward she will get is immunity.” She then stopped and whispered to his ear, “Don’t lay a finger on her.”
With a single step, she took forward, Godan screamed and swung his fist at the woman. His fist was wrapped around her hand, unable to move further as it was shaking from the force he put into the attack and push.
“You know me as The Voice, but don’t mistake me for anyone weak. I am more than a simple voice.” With a jerk of her hand, there were a few loud cracks, and Godan’s arm began to shake violently. He didn’t show it on his face, but he was in a lot of pain as the bones in his hand and wrist were broken. “Don’t forget your place. You’re almost as worthless as she is.” She added before vanishing in thin air.
Godan didn’t say anything as he only gritted his teeth. Trying his best not to show any weakness even around unconscious Navia. He put his hand to the side as if nothing was wrong with it, and he walked away.
“I am not worthless… I used to be… A simple slave. Caught while fishing at sea with friends from my village. Thrown into the pit and forced to fight. Each one of my matches was barely won, but there was something exhilarating about it. Every fight was brutal, but I gladly jumped in. Even when my arms were chopped off by the previous champion… I didn’t feel fear or regret. Yet I was given a chance… A worthless slave killed the champion and became the boss of the pit. Even the rich bastard who controls it bows in front of my strength. I am a slave without chains. I am not WORTHLESS!” Godan punched the wall with his broken hand, splashing blood all over it and scaring the man who was locked inside the cell.
“I’ll show her…” Godan picked up his speed and went to the center of the arena. He picked up the tooth from the sand and looked at the center of the ceiling above him. There was a small hole in it. With a swift move of his wrist, he threw the tooth into the hole, and it hit a bell hidden behind it. The ringing of it was barely audible in the pit while everyone above could clearly hear it.
Not even a minute had passed since the bell rang, and five people appeared in the stands above. Between the stairs, they moved a wooden contraption that had one log with a rope attached to it. As they moved the log part toward the pit, the rope fell down. Godan took hold of it with one arm and slightly pulled it.
The servants of the Strada family noticed the movement of the rope, and the two men began to turn the cogwheels. The log began to rotate, and the rope was wrapping around it, pulling Godan toward the stands of the arena. The blood was dripping down into the center of the arena.
Before they could fully lift him up, Godan jumped and grabbed the edge of the railing. The servants waited for him to speak as he climbed up, the hairs on their bodies standing as if death was lurking right beside them. For Godan, servants and slaves are the same. They all have one thing in common. They are made of flesh that he can cut.
“Tell the Head that I am going hunting for a week. If I’m missing longer than that, it doesn’t mean I am dead. It means I found worthy prey…” Explained Godan without even looking the servants in the eyes as he slowly climbed up the stairs toward the exit.
The servants didn’t respond as their throats were clogged by fear. They were standing on two sides of the same coin. If they try to stop him, Godan will kill them. If they do nothing about it, Strada might punish them or turn them into slaves, which would in the end mean death.
As one of them took a step forward, the rest froze, already feeling the cold grasp of death. The man took a long breath and, with a somewhat stable tone, he asked. “Mister Strada won’t be glad about it… But I’ll make sure your words reach his ear.”
The servants exchanged looks with each other, and all their eyes landed on the servant who spoke to Godan; all of them blamed him for what was about to happen. Cursing the man to go to hell for what he did.
Godan stopped for a second, thinking of what he should do. An idea of killing that man flashed in his mind, but he wasn’t in the mood to kill anyone weak; he was sick of them. “Sure… Whatever.” Godan answered with disgust as he left the arena.
All of them could finally breathe without that menace in the same room as them. Before any of them could argue with the man that almost sentenced them to death, he walked away, almost fast pace marching.
The tunnel to the arena had many different passages, but in one of them, there was a hidden door. The man made sure no one was watching him and punched the side of a brick in the wall, it moved so a part of it would stick out. The man grabbed it and pulled like a door handle, and the hidden door opened a path into a dark tunnel.
The tunnel led toward a wooden wall, and as he pushed it, the wall moved and light got into the tunnel. In truth, the wooden wall was a bookshelf that hid the secret tunnel. Outside was a corridor inside a mansion with a view into the sea and the walls on the water that were protecting Liberin City from the outside threats.
At the end of the corridor there was a door with a golden frame and a golden knob. The man entered without knocking. The room was small but big enough for shelves with tons of books, leaving space for only three windows behind a desk. By the desk sat a muscular man with each shape of his muscle visible on his tight, dark shirt. His red hair was slicked back and reflected the light that came through the windows behind him.
The head of the family hit the desk and stood up, a vein popping out on his head as he screamed at the man at the door, “Don’t you know how to knock, or do I need to cut your hand so that would never happen again?!” As he screamed, he spat on the documents on the desk.
The servant who seemed scared of Godan earlier stood unfazed in the doorframe. “Is that how you speak to the messenger of the Gods?” The man’s voice sounded much different, colder and emotionless. His face was blank and untouched by Lucius Strada’s threats. The light that was coming through the window seemed to fade as it got darker. Almost the whole light was absorbed from the room, leaving only the shades of grey.
The massive man seemed to shrink after hearing those words and realizing who that man was. He sat down and lowered his head. “Apologies… I didn’t know it was you.” Lucius' voice was shaking and came almost as a whisper. Not out of annoyance but out of fear.
“Understandable. It’s good you shouted that. No one will dare to go through these doors right now…” The man closed the door behind him and sat down in the free chair by the desk, looking straight at Strada as he continued, “I came to inform you about Godan’s absence. He said he will go ‘Hunting’ for a week. That means they are separated.”
“So you will kill both of them… And as promised… I’ll be saved from God’s wrath?” Lucius asked with his head still down, not daring to look the man in the face.
“Not both. Only the woman. Your slave is Stranded, but he also kills humans whenever he likes it, so the Gods don’t want him dead yet.” The man said, as he put both of his elbows on the desk and crossed his hands, leaning even closer to the lord of the house.
“But you said you would… Kill Godan. I agreed because that meant no more danger for me… but… If he finds out!” Lucius' desperation grew larger as he only saw one thing coming: death from Godan’s hands.
“You don’t need to worry about him finding out…” The man’s voice changed as well as his appearance, from a red servant uniform into dirty clothes with holes in them, his skin dirtied with sand and blood. His head turned from an elegant young man into a tired and beaten-up man with brown hair cut short like he did it with a knife and without a mirror to watch where he cut. “Everyone will think that she was killed by a slave who feared her.” The man’s voice changed into a crispy tone with lots of fear coming out with each word he spoke.
“Fine… If you’re going to keep your end of the promise, then I have no problem with you killing my slave.” Lucious said with his head down, but his gaze moved back up as he noticed the light coming back into the room, the colors that were drained from this room painted his view once again. The man who spoke with him and sat in front of him disappeared without a trace of him being here.