Chapter 228: Death and Honor

Aether walked up many bridges, walking up the islands, navigating them one by one. And now that he knew the truth about them. He noticed how the further up, the happier the people were.

In the end, he finally found the island.

As Aether stepped on the hard ground, the first thing he noticed was the sound. Not of laughter or of people working their jobs, but…

Roars.

He followed the stone road upward, boots striking worn steps that had been shaped by thousands before him. He wondered, how many people from the number of those who have walked up as warriors, have managed to also go down this road with their lives? Aether continued to walk up the path until the first part of the colosseum was seen, and then he kept revealing it piece by piece, until finally the colosseum came fully into view.

It was massive.

Not tall in a delicate way, but wide and oppressive, built like something meant to endure centuries without complaint, to harbor so many fights, and not be stained by death. Pale stone blocks stacked upon one another in perfect symmetry, each one large enough that moving it must have required machines or monsters. Arches circled the structure in layered rows, dark openings like unblinking eyes staring down at the sea.

Banners hung between the arches, heavy fabric dyed in deep reds and golds, snapping sharply in the wind. Symbols marked each one, crests of factions, sponsors, houses that funded fighters, and bet fortunes on blood.

Looking at it, it just goes to show how much humanity likes death when it’s not their own. They watch it with smiles and act like it’s a game, but that all stops when it’s their own.

The main entrance faced him.

Two enormous statues flanked it, carved from black granite. Not kings. Not gods. Fighters. One held a broken spear, the other a shield split clean in two. Both looked victorious. They looked to have fought with a lot of honor, to have gotten statues.

But he did notice something.

’None hold a blade… so is bringing a rapier really a good idea?

Above the gate, carved in bold, weathered letters:

ONLY THOSE WHO STAND MAY LEAVE.

The roar from within grew louder as Aether approached. It wasn’t constant cheering. It rose and fell, like waves. At times, people applauded, maybe because one of the fighters had won or gotten a good hit in. And then they groaned, maybe because the match was over, or because something happened and the fighters didn’t want to fight.

Which, if he thought about it.

It could be quite a common occurrence.

When not staring death face-to-face, you may make the mistake of thinking joining this place was a good idea, but then, when you have to fight to survive, it all changes.

It just goes to show how different seeing death made things.

He sighed.

The gates themselves were open.

Thick iron reinforced the wooden doors; if he had to say, there were little chances of anyone breaking out through them if they wanted to escape, banded and studded, scratched from years of use. Guards stood at either side, not ceremonial, but practical. Their armor was real. Their hands rested casually near weapons that had clearly been drawn before.

He glanced towards them, but they didn’t look back, but… at the same time, he noticed how their grip on their blade intensified. They were ready, if he wanted to try something. They were just acting as if they weren’t.

Beyond the entrance lay a wide stone corridor sloping downward. Torches burned in iron brackets along the walls, their flames bending in the draft created by the arena’s open heart. The air was warmer inside, thick with sweat, dust, and something metallic that lingered at the back of the throat.

Blood.

How much of it had been sheed in this place? Probably a whole lake, maybe even a small sea. Who knew? He definitely had no idea. The only one who probably did was the colosseum itself.

The corridor branched off into smaller passageways. Fighters passed him as he stepped inside, glancing at him with hateful eyes; he knew they were looking down upon him. Some wrapped their hands in cloth. Some sharpened blades against portable stones. Some stared straight ahead, lips moving silently.

None laughed.

The roar peaked suddenly, shaking dust from the ceiling.

Aether reached the end of the tunnel.

The arena opened before him.

Sunlight poured into the vast circular space from above, illuminating the fighting pit at its center. The sand was not golden. It was pale, almost white, churned, and uneven. Darker stains marked areas where it had absorbed too much.

It was interesting, since he could see where people had most likely been killed.

The stands rose in steep tiers all around, thousands of seats packed tight. People leaned forward, shouting, pointing, and betting. The sound hit him physically, pressing against his chest.

Looking up, he saw some elegant figures standing and watching, not talking, just watching. Which probably meant they were the nobles of this island. Which again meant that the stand was divided into sections. He didn’t know how many, but it had to be at least two.

In the center, two fighters circled each other.

One was already bleeding, clenching his wound with his hand, and watching as the blood slipped through the crack of his fingers.

The other smiled, with his might spear in his hand.

’Again, no sword? Like what the hell.’

Aether sighed again.

…

There was something he notices though; none of the fighters were using their Will’s, and he didn’t think it was because they didn’t want to, but because they didn’t want to.

For those with Will’s honor was about getting stronger, of having a powerful Will. But those without were already at the lowest point when it came to honor and reputation.

Which was probably what this place was all about.

For the Will-less tho change their lives.

With the honor and money from this place, one’s life could change. If they survived, they could move higher up in the islands, maybe even get a beautiful woman to marry, heck, maybe they could impress a noble, and if they married them, they were set for life.

He didn’t think anyone here was for the reason he was here, which was to get stronger and to improve his skill with the rapier and learn Kael’s style.

Honor was all that mattered, and people were willing to kill themselves for it, to get in the system, instead of fighting it.

Maybe with this task, Kael had also wanted him to see why people didn’t wish to learn the weapon styles that were once meant to challenge the Wils.

Aether turned around, not interested in watching the fight, after all, the victor was already decided, and that would be final soon.

instead he walked back down the corridor and entered one of the small passageways he had talked about earlier, which opened to a large and open space.

The place seemed to be filled with people, some nervous, while others had that determined look on their faces, as if this was what they were meant to do all their lives.

Inside the room, there were many tables and seats, with a bar nearby, but besides that, a reception desk, with a young female standing behind it.

If he had to guess, and it was quite obvious, this was the place where people signed up to be warriors.

He walked up to the receptionist, and as he did, he saw her smile.

“Hello, and welcome to the arena… um, may I ask how young you are?”

Aether tilted his head as he heard the question. Was there a rule that only allowed people over a certain age to register inside the program? Weird, from a place like this, he would have expected there to be no rules at all.

“I am… fifteen.” To this day, it feels wrong saying it.

The woman didn’t lose her smile, but he could see that she was uncomfortable.

“And are you sure… You want to sign you? You are, um, maybe a little young to risk your life?”

He chuckled. Not because she had said something funny, but when thinking that she considered this dangerous for someone his age, when he had fought a Breaker when he was thirteen, it was amusing.

“I am sure.”

The receptionist sighed. “Already… if you say so, to sign up, I’ll need your real name and your arena name.”

Arena name? That was interesting, so people in this place had titles to go by; it only made this place seem even more like a game for the nobles. As if they were characters they could control and make them fight eachother.

Now… what name did he want to go by?

He could go by his name, but that was just boring, and he definitely didn’t want to use the name of his path. So then what?

…

“My name is Aether Moirai, and for the arena name…Eden.”

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