Chapter 2: Into the Dark
Pako roused slowly from his induced slumber, tightly sqeezed against the metal bars. From the corners of his eyes, he could see several men crowded around him, packed together like straw in a hay bale. Their face drooped in a morose frown, their eyes staring off into the distance with the soul behind them long gone.
Pushing himself from the bars, he turned his head to look back at the other cart, filled with women. His eyes flickered across the cage, searching for his family. He was so scared within that cage, so desperate to know he wasn't alone. Alas, it proved futile, so many packed so tightly even the faces began to blur together.
The demons in steel walked alongside the carts, keeping a vigilant eye over their prisoners. Occasionally, they would poke and prod into the cages to make sure no one caused any problems.
The travel felt like an eternity of torment, little other than the roads, the demons and the other suffering souls. Occassionally, the cages would stop to allow the demons another rampage through others farms and homes, just like his. Each time, the cages became more and more cramped, to the point it was a struggle to breathe. The Demons would give just enough of the bread and water to keep them alive, making the writhing souls with fight desperately.
After that endless hell, they had arrived at their destination. Over the hills, Pako could see the trees giving way to houses, each made of stone rather the wood of his home. It was a city, something Pako had only heard about until now.
As the cages moved through the city, he could see people much like him moving about the roads, more lively than he had ever seen. As they drew closer to the centre he saw the house grow bigger and more decorated.
Struggling to turn his head, Pako bore witness to the first great sight of his life. At the centre of the city was massive white walls of stone stretching into the sky, with sky piercing spires poking up above them. It was a revelation for the young boy.
After several minutes at the gates, the cages were led inside. There he saw a world entirely different to his own. The dirt road were replaced by paved stone road, the buildings decorated in golds and silvers, the people wearing clothing and colours he had never even seen before.
The cages were led toward a large round building, built by white and red stone, with large wooden gates at the entrance. But they wouldn't be going in through the gates.
Instead, they were led around the side of the building to a small door, the wood starting to rot. The doors to the cages opened, and some tried to use this oppertunity to flee. The demons were too quick for them, and those that dared to try and escape were either captured or cut down. The rest, including Pako quickly understood the message. They were loaded off, one by one, their hands chained with rings of steel. A first experience for a boy who had only known freedom for most of his life. Pako tried once more to find his family, only for something hard to hit him in the back of the head, sending him reeling.
"Move it, you little shit!" He voice behind him demanded.
Pako turned to see it was the same demon he had bit all those days ago. It seemed he hadn't forgotten that minor transgression.
The prisoners were led down into holding cells. They were dark and damp, with only small candles for light and dripping water for sound. The cells were all cramped, packed with four or five people, the men and women separated.
Pako did not know how long it was he was in that cell. Could have been days, weeks, or even months. It all blended together in the dark. His memories of a peaceful life already seemed so distant now, the faces of his family looking murkier by the day. But Pako would hold onto those memories as best as he could. He would need that hope if he were to survive here.
The guards came down, removing people seemingly at random, their fates unknown. Finally, the guards banged on his cell, "Get ready, you lot are gonna' need to put on a show."
Pako and the other prisoners were led from the cells to the surface. The light stung Pako's eyes, it had been so long since he had seen any major source of light since being led into the cells.
They were led through a few halls onto a large wooden platform. Overlooking them were rows upon rows of the same people he had seen when entering the city, dressing in all manner of grand and gaudy garments.
The first man was brought to the front of the stage. "And here we have a strong, tough man from the lands of Gremony, a perfect fit for manual labour, combat, or perhaps something else for the ladies. Shall we start the bidding at 5,000 Dracla?" The man leading the procession announced.
Then people began raising their hands, and the number quickly began to increase. That was when it clicked in Pako's mind. They were bidding on them, bidding on people. He had seen people occassionally bid on bits of land or resources when he was with his parents, but the idea of bidding on people was an entirely foreign concept to him. These people saw them as little more than resources to be used up, and that made his skin crawl.
One by one, the men were brought forward and sold off like cattle. Finally it was his turn. He was pushed to the front of the stage and the man began to announce him to the audience.
"Next, we have a young man, only 6 years of age from the outskirts of Gremony. Though he may not be much now, his youth makes him very flexible to whatever is needed. But I have it on good authority that he can be a fiesty one, so be ready for a show with this one. How about we start at 2,000 Dracla?"
Then the bidding started and the numbers rose. 3,000, 4,000, 5,000, 7,000, 10,000. The number kept rising to numbers his family had never seen in their entire lives.
"50,000!" Was the winning number.
"Sold to the man with the cane and ruby robes!"
Said man was a rather portly individual, bald om top and with grey hair around the sides. As the description named, he walked using a thick, black cane and was adorned in red robes with rubies emblazoned onto it.
He waited for a further few hours until the auction was over, whereupon he, along with a few others sold over the course of the show were brought before the old man.
"These ones will do nicely." He croaked out, "Would you accompany me back to the Stadium with these fine gentlemen."
"We can certainly do that, for an extra fee, of course!"
Rolling his eyes, the old man pulled out a small bag of coins and handed them to the announcer man. "We'll have those guards with you right away."
Soon, he and the others were being led towards a new building. This one eclipsed everything he had seen before. The gigantic oval structure was made of deep black stone, giving the building both a menacing and awe-inspiring presence.
They were soon led down a chamber into their new cells. By all accounts, it was preferable to the one he had been in previously, less dark, less cramped, with only one other prisoner inside the cell.
Pako was thrust into his cell, the door slammed quickly behind him. At one of the far corners of the cell was his cellmate. The man was old, the oldest Pako had ever seen. His beard was thick and flowing, pure white and with bushy eyebrows to match. His hair was also pure white, though much thinner, his hair in matted clumps that rolled down to his shoulder. In terms of body, he was even worse, emaciated like a living mummy, his ribs clearly visible.
For the next several minutes there was an awkward silence between the two, as neither wanted to cross that first boundary. Fortunately for Pako, the old man would decide to speak first.
"So, a child has been sent into these walls" the old man whispered solumnly, "I suppose even the innocent youth cannot escape their greed now."
Pako did not dare to speak.
"I suppose if there is any silver lining, then at least you should be better than the last man to join me in his cell. I do not wish for any unneeded bloodshed."
Pako did not want to know what happened to the last guy.
"If we are going to share a cell, then getting to know each other will help lessen the pain of the peace times. I shall start, my name is Daihei of the Mountains of Sei. And you, young man?"
"Pako."
"Pako." Daihei repeated thoughtfully, stroking his beard as he did so "A fine name, but perhaps not the one of a warrior. Allow me to think..."
As he thought the door was opened. "Daihei, you've been selected for the arena."
Daihei rose swiftly to his feet, faster than a man half his age. "Very well," He turned to Pako "I will discuss your name when I return." Leaving without another word.
For the next hour, Pako was left to ponder the old mans' words. A new name? Why would he need a new name? He had been Pako from birth, why would he change that?
The door open and Daihei walked through, coated in a thick layer of blood, a neutral expression on his face as he walked through the cell and took his position in the cell. For a few moments Daihei and Pako were silent, before the old man spoke.
"Omoi."
"What?"
"Your Warrior name, should you accept it, will be Omoi."
"Why do I need another name?" Pako responded.
Daihei drew purposefully onto his knees, scooting over to Pako and placed a gentle hand upon his shoulder. "Sometimes, we have to make a name for ourselves, and sometimes others will make your name for you. Though not your fault, you have been pulled into a world different to your own, a world that will never truely leave you. To survive in this world, you cannot afford to be the boy you are now. You must forge your own way into being the man you need to be. It is up to you whether you accept your name, as it is up to you whether you will accept your destiny."
Pako looked into the old man's eyes. They were kind and wise, the kind of eyes he had not seen since his parents. It was as if he were talking to a grandparent, rather than a man who was essentially a stranger.
He spent the night thinking over the name.
In the morning, Pako was awoken by the sound of steel clanking against steel. "Ok, you've been selected for the games."
Pako looked to Daihei, expecting him to get up.
"I said get up, boy!" The guard shouted.
Realising the guard was talking to him, Pako drew back, beginning to panic.
Opening the gate, the guard approached aggressively, before drawing back with a start.
Daihei moved in front of Pako, a hand up to stop the guard approach. Placing a reassuring hand on Pako's shoulder, Daihei spoke softly to Pako "Do not be afraid, child. You may not have the skill now, but you have something even more important: your instincts. When all else fails, trust in your instincts."
Patting Pako on the back, he gently guided the boy towards the guard. The guard grabbed him by the arm dragging him back towards the field. "Put this on" the guard demanded, presenting him with thick cloth dyed black, as no armour was small enough for Pako.
As they drew closer the sounds became louder and louder. Finally, Pako was thrown out to the surface. The sun blazed with heat and light as thousand were gathered in the columns of the stadium, roaring and cheering for the oncoming bloodshed.
"My fellow citizens!" Rang out over the arena, "We have gathered here today to witness a spectacle for the ages. Today we have many games planned for you today. To begin, we have the black knights of Goumon against the Golden Knights of Hairota the Conqueror!"
The crowd roared louder as one of the knights dressed in black called out to him, "Get over here, now!"
Picking up a small knife, the only weapon he could use, Pako ran over to his fellow fighter. "Fall in." The fighter followed up. Pako squeezed in, fear setting in for the young boy.
'I can't do this! I can't do this!' Pako cried in his thoughts.
The gates opened and out flew men adorned in golden armour, riding on glorious white stallions. They looked like holy warriors, ready to smite their enemies.
"Are you ready folks? Ready or not, let the Battle commence!"
The knights of gold galloped across the field as the knights of Black huddled together, just trying to prepare to stay alive against the oncoming assault.
The Gold knights drew closer, before one of them charged in, swinging their sword, slashing through one of the men next to Pako. Blood sprayed out and splashed upon the sands as the horseman rode back out.
The battle blurred in Pako's mind as it turned into a hail of swords and spears, a black knight would be cut up or run through, followed by a gold warrior being speared through the stomach or the neck. By the time the battle reached the endgame, the sands had turned red with blood.
All that was left when the carnage died down were two of the gold warriors, Pako himself and another of the black warriors. The golden warrior were bloodthirsty, demented grins across their faces, ready to finish their beaten foes.
Pako had been frozen in fear for most of the fight, unable to do much. Clutching the knife, he ran as fast as he could, wanting to get away. He wanted to be back home with his mother, his father and his sister. Instead, he was here trying not to find himself in the jaws of the hounds of death.
One of the men gave chase, a big brute of a man, as wide as he was tall. He swung a monstrous axe around, coated in the blood of the fallen. As he ran, Pako could hear the clanking of armour grow heavier, before something harde slammed into his back, smashing him into the ground. Pain pierced his head, feeling as if a thunderstorm were building behind his ears.
A hard boot came down across his back, as he could feel slimy, congealed blood touch the back of his neck, he was being sized up for slaughter. He was going to die.
The next moment felt like an eternity as the axe was raised to strike off his head. 'This is it.' He whimpered in his head. It was just like the farm, his cowardice, his weakness, costing him everything, his home, his family, and now his life. There would be no second chances now.
...
'No.'
It was a voice.
Then, as if it were moving on it's own, his body wheeled around the moment the monster took his foot of Pako to deliver the final blow, knife in hand, and thrust into the nearest exposed section; the heel. The shot was true, as blood poured from the wound and the beast in gold yelled in pain. The axe slammed into the sand, only a few centimeters off of cleaving into Pako's skull.
'Get. Up.' The voice commanded again.
The pain in his head began to build, the thunderstorm growing as he tried to get back to his feet, and with it another emotion; rage. He had been angry before, but it was only petty frustration, this was different. It was true wrath, blotting out all other thoughts. His fears and doubts burned as mind and body alike were filled with both pain and vigour.
'Rise! Stand and fight!" The voice was roaring now.
'Are you to flee like a coward? Let yourself be killed like a weakling? A disgrace to your family? Or are you going to fight? Take back your life?' The voice grew louder and louder.
The goliath in gold was rising, it was now or never.
"When all else fails, trust in your instincts"
It finally clicked.
"FIGHT!" The voice roared at it's fullest.
And the hunted became the hunter.
Pako rushed his enemy, thrusting his knife into whatever wasn't covered in gold. His size, once his greatest weakness, not made him untouchable, easily slipping through his enemy's wide, swinging blows.
Getting behind the beast, he thrust his knife into the back of his enemy's knee bringing him down. Pako leapt upon the oppertunity presented, grabbing hold of the back of the breastplate he pulled himself up and stabbed down. The knife landed directly into the beast's left eye. The beast screamed, trying to grasp Pako from his back, but Pako twisted the knife further in.
The beast went silent, his arms dropping by his side, before falling forward. Dead. Pako climbed off and tugged the knife out of the beasts eye socket.
Turning his head, he saw the other two. The gold knight had the upper hand continually forcing Pako's ally back.
Pako stood there for a moment, frozen, the last remnants of the boy he was trying to hold him back. Then the voice called out again, "You flee now? If you cannot protect an ally, how will you ever protect the ones you love? Will you let them suffer for your cowardice."
The anger returned in full, and as he let out a battle cry, the very first in his life, the last of the boy that was finally left.
He charged, running full speed at his foe. The foe was aware of him, kicking him away, but the moment was not wasted. His ally, finally finding hia footing, pressed the attack, forcing the gold soldier back for the first time.
Pako rose, his wrath and newfound vigour pushing away the pain of any blow. He rushed foward again, catching his opponent in back of the knee. The gold soldier recoiled in pain as the black further pressed his advantage.
Pako rushed forward one more time, and with all his might, pushed the blade underneath the plate, and through his abdomen. The golden soldier wretched and the black landed his first and only blow, taking his opponents head from his shoulders.
The now lifeless body slumped to the ground. For a moment, the crowd was silent, before cheers erupted across the stadium. As the rush of battle faded, Pako had come to the realization he had killed someone. The blood on his hands an inauguration into a brutal world, where only those willing to fight for everything will survive.
"Well done noble fighters, you have given us all a wonderful battle to commence the games. Step forward for these people to see." The announcer called out.
Pako glanced at the other survivor. His ally nodded in appreciation before stepping forward. Pako did the same.
"Tell us all your name, noble warriors!"
"Shougar of Thebos!" His ally announced
The announcer nodded "And what of you, young warrior?"
Pako hesitated, who was he now? Could he even call himself by his own name? The name given to him by the old man flashed in his head. The peaceful days on the farm were gone, there was no going back, so he needed to choose his way forward.
"Well?" The announcer said
He took a deep breath, ready to make his decision.
"Omoi."
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone