Chapter 11: Yellow Eyes
'Shi-hi-hit~ What a waste of time! I can see why these guys are in slaughterhouses! Not a single one of them was any more than an olympic level drunkard with the way they fight! And to top it off, don't even fight to the death!'
Alfred had already finished dinner and was already refining away. After lunch, he had watched the entirety of the adult's Friday "show". It was mainly a bloody slapstick fight between people who could, if they landed a shot, knock Alfred out, but wouldn't be able to since all they could muster was random wide punches and blind charges.
A few people obviously had some idea of what they were doing, but that was in all likelihood from watching other more talented slaves fight. They were, all in all, average at best.
Alfred also noticed that there were much more people watching the children fight than the adults for Friday's events. 'Most likely, it's for talent scouting. Those old dogs obviously don't have the desire to learn new tricks, but the young ones always will have at least some, especially if they show promise.'
He now was not oblivious to the attention he was getting from a few of the masters, but he didn't think anything of it, for now. 'There's no way anyone would approach me after one fight. I at least need to do one next week while showing significant improvements for that to occur.'
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His meditative state continued up until lights out, where he spent another two hours doing it before hitting the sack. Alfred slept for exactly two hours before his eyes shot up.
Above him in the rafters of the room stared two yellow eyes down on him. They widened slightly before the figure dropped.
His figure flew through the air without making any sound, and then landed on the ground with more uncanny silence. Alfred was already up, but after seeing that display, he knew he was dealing with someone out of his league.
'Shit! What does he want with me? Is he an Assassin? But why the fuck would they want a little girl?'
He activated HSM and got off his bed. The man motioned for Alfred to follow him quietly, which he complied with. Alfred sensed that no amount of resistance could get him away from this man, as the feeling radiating from him was almost nul. 'It's nul, not unlike the feeling of the space I float in between death cycles… My body feels a natural fear of this unknown.'
Alfred continued after the man on extremely high alert. He was led down a few halls he didn't recognize, but made sure to memorize the layout anyways. Eventually, they both ended up in a rare open courtyard.
'How big is this place?' he wondered without taking focus off the man.
Finally, with the moonlight, Alfred could see the man's features. A middle-aged man with a scruffy beard and unkempt black hair, standing around about 1.80 meters tall with a noticeably athletic build stood in front of him. Despite the change in scenery, those yellow eyes still stared at him like a cat.
With no warning, Alfred saw the man's fist coming towards him. He was, before, keeping a medium level of HSM up, but now, he turned it up to the max and braced for impact. The whole time, his eyes were darting from the fist, to the man's face, torso, legs, everything to figure out the trajectory. For some reason, he couldn't. It was as if all the man's actions were hidden behind some odd fluctuation that Alfred couldn't decipher. All he had to go off was the surprisingly smooth motion of the fist coming towards him in slow motion.
Alfred, in an act of desperation, forced every single muscle fiber on his body to escape the trajectory of the fist. If he wasn't so focused on dodging, Alfred would have surely come to the conclusion that the man did not want to kill him, but the attack had a… killing intent behind it that he could not and would not ignore. On top of all of this, the attack was just at the edge of what he could possibly dodge, so he subconsciously entered a flow state.
In the end, the attack cut his right cheek between his cheekbone and eye and gave the popping sensation in his ears one gets from going to higher altitudes. Alfred quickly put his hands up to protect his vitals, and started to retreat, but the man did something unexpected.
He smiled, and Alfred was slightly dumbfounded. The feeling he got from the attack had set him in fight or flight mode, but the man seemed completely elated. Alfred was about to question him, but the man started first.
"You almost fully dodged that. Good on ya, kid. I was expecting to have to pull the punch a little, but you exceeded my expectations. I might get out of here yet."
"???"
Again, before Alfred could get any questions off, the man spoke.
"I'll give you a choice, kid. Become my disciple, or don't," he paused for a second to gauge Alfred's response, which was still skeptical. He chuckled, "Rest assured, this deal is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I can tell you have next to no training in techniques, but your potential is off the charts. If you do become my disciple, you won't regret it. Not to brag, but I'm the most powerful individual in this colosseum.
"Choose wisely."
"I-" Alfred deactivated HSM and felt the fatigue from his move flow over him. 'Damn, this guy sees right through me! I need techniques, bad. I have no way of moving how I want efficiently, and the techniques I need for that cost too much for me right now.
'I can't go into this rashly, though. Offering to take me as his disciple this early on means one of two things… technically three. One, he is desperate, probably due to being a bad teacher. Two, his standards are too high, and is actually a chance sent from heaven. Three, it's both cases.'
His entire inner monolog lasted only a second before he gave his answer. "Sir, I thank you for this opportunity, but how can I verify that you are as powerful as you say?"
The man nodded, and with a slightly surprised but understanding expression, said, "I'll give you tomorrow to ask around. You can even verify my records here with the guards. If you aren't convinced then, you'd be too stupid to take in as a disciple."
His claims surprised Alfred, but he didn't let it show on his face. Alfred, seeing the man turn towards the tree at the center of the courtyard, walked out down the hallways following the route they took earlier. After rounding a few corners and checking his surroundings, he fell on his ass and exhaled deeply.
"Shit! I hope he's not lying, because I need some luck right now," Alfred mumbled aloud. 'I'll rest here for a bit, then hit the sack, too much happened today.'
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The old man was laying down in the tree staring at nothing while thinking to himself. 'That kid, she definitely needs techniques, but she still delayed accepting before verifying my claims. That level of self control is unusual amongst kids her age.'
A small chuckle leaked out of his mouth subconsciously. 'I have no doubt she'll come back, once she does a bit of investigating. This disciple is just getting better and better.'
He closed his eyes with a satisfied expression. 'After so long, finally, a promising one…'
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The interaction was swift despite it feeling like an eternity to Alfred due to how long he kept HSM up, with only about 10 minutes passing by due to the speed at which the two made their way to the courtyard. After resting for a bit, and taking a more leisurely pace back to his bed, only 20 minutes had gone by before Alfred was able to sleep again.
Five dreamless hours later, he was back up and into the canteen. The Slaves that congregated at the canteen nearest to him all seemed too untalkative to answer any questions, so Alfred saved his inquiries for when he got to the SE.
He used that time after eating, as usual, to refine his äura. After his unexpected win yesterday, a lot more eyes were on him, particularly children. By the end of breakfast, a few seemed like they wanted to say/do something, but as the guard yelled for them to get to the SE, Alfred shot up and walked briskly into the room.
Again, it seemed like his canteen full of slaves in the slaughterhouses arrived last, as most of the seats at the narrow opening were taken. Surprisingly to Alfred, he found the man who could become his master sitting in the same room as him. He nodded slightly before closing his eyes.
Alfred noticed how his side of the room was much more sparsely populated, which he took note of. 'He's either intimidating, or smells like shit…'
He spared no time to dilly dally and immediately began interrogating other slaves about him. Many of them gave strange reactions. Some were hesitant to give away information, and some simply responded with: "Y-yeah, he's strong…" None gave much information on the surface, but the underlying meaning behind the responses gave Alfred more and more hope.
Still, nothing was conclusive, so Alfred went to a guard to ask.
"Excuse me, sir. Would it be possible for you to tell me that man's-" he motioned towards the yellow eyed man, "-records? Namely, his fight records."
The guard nodded. It seemed like they were not prohibited from showing records of other slaves.
After a bit of fiddling, the guard flipped the tablet around. What Alfred saw almost made his jaw drop. He held that in, but he couldn't help but widen his eyes.
The records showed that, in the 10 entire years that the man, #119, had spent in the colosseum, he had not lost once. That was just the normal statistics for regular weekends, though. It turned out that this place hosted bi-monthly, yearly, and quad-yearly tournaments including smaller colosseums' slaves, volunteers, volunteered slaves, and even foreign country's slaves and volunteers. In all of the tournaments he participated in, the man had lost none, tied 9, and won the rest. Alfred wanted to jump with joy at the sight, but he held it in and limited himself to a mind fist-pump and inwardly said 'Jackpot!'
It seemed that the man was part of the second group Alfred had come up with. 'His standards were just simply too high… hah.' Alfred shook his head, 'Doesn't matter to me, I'll be sure to knock his socks off.'
Alfred performed the military salute he had learned in the medical wing, which the guard seemed surprised to receive, but quickly set him at ease and got back to fiddling with his tablet.
Alfred walked towards 119's side and sat down at the narrow opening to witness the fights that were about to start. This time, there somehow seemed to be even more spectators than before. The angle of the opening wouldn't allow him to look at the overhead platform, but he assumed that had more people there as well.
While waiting, Alfred decided to resume refining. He assumed that even if he could get a lot out of watching others fight, refinement would prove to be the most beneficial towards his success. He couldn't help but feel disappointed that he was required to close his eyes when refining, since he would be able to study fighting and refine simultaneously. 'Alas,' he remarked inwardly, 'all good things come with a cost.'
When he heard that ominous "...~Begin~", his eyes shot open to see two strong-looking men, one ~170m tall but more bulky with a chrome dome and a thick black beard, and the other a ~1.90 and lean man with messy blonde hair styled with nordic-looking braids. Both were staring each other down. Neither had a weapon nor armor, but Alfred felt a faint pressure stronger than that of the wolves permeating from the arena.
Suddenly, the braided man (nicknamed by Alfred: "Braids") shot forward and swung a fast kick towards Chrome Dome's (another nickname by Alfred) neck and jaw. There was a slight whistling sound that flowed with the attack. Chrome Dome barely slipped it, and followed up with a swift jab, which Braids blocked. Chrome Dome seemed to have expected that outcome, and followed up with a left hook at Braids' liver which generated a more chunky "whoosh" sound. Braids sucked his chest and darted back swiftly. Neither had really damaged the other, but even still, the exchange felt dangerous.
The crowd gave an excited cheer at this scene.
From that quick exchange, Alfred knew that he would lose no matter what against either of the men in his current state. That wouldn't be an issue had the majority of slaves in the SE not been at or above their "level" of expertise. This only served to further Alfred's thirst for power.
Throughout the rest of the fight, Alfred made sure to take note of each interaction and tried to understand their thought process. He was bound to come across people like them, or possibly the two themselves in the future, and any information he could gather now could potentially become life-saving later on.
In the end, the shorter guy won by the skin of his teeth through sheer endurance, seeing as they both were near perfect matches for each other in terms of skill. 'Saturday seems to stop after an incapacitation… I don't know if that will bring out better fights, but I still can't wait for more.'
After the two had vacated the arena, and another two contestants stepped up, that now familiar and deep voice said:
"...~Begin~"
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone