Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Allies And Enemies
"Miss Valerie, are you free?" Zenith was back at room number 8. He sat at the bench he had sat before.
There were only three people in the room just now, before Zenith came in and made it four.
"What do you want?" Valerie's voice was frigid, almost robotic, and her expression was cold. This lady certainly did not seem to enjoy socialising.
Zenith ignored it very naturally and smiled, "I just want to make your acquaintance. I come here almost every day, everytime I'm free to see you. Do you not see my sincerity?"
Belial on the side looked at him with tints of betrayal, shock, and a kind of awe. He was worried that Valerie would suddenly try to murder Zenith because she was annoyed. His whole body was tense and he was ready to provide at least an escape route to Zenith. However, he was also as proud as a parent who found that his timid child was starting to socialise.
"I don't see it," Valerie was blunt to the core. Her voice was a bit coarse from smoking. She was apparently a heavy smoker.
Zenith sighed. No progress for today as well. The number three gladiator was harder to approach than he initially thought. He had previously thought that she was curious about him because she was staring at him the first time they met.
"Then, I will be going. See you tomorrow, Miss Valerie."
Zenith stood up and headed toward the door. Valerie pursed her lips but said nothing.
"That kid…" one of the occupants in room 8, the scar-faced man wondered aloud, "Do you think he has an interest in you?"
Belial's eyes shook. He was as devastated as a parent finding out his child's first crush. Just as Belial's imagination was getting weirder and was constructing sobs drama in his head, he heard Valerie say, "No. I don't think he is interested in me in that way. His eyes…"
Valerie suddenly stopped talking.
His eyes… They seem like they wanted to exploit me. Valerie didn't know how to explain. Although, it seemed like he wanted to use her for something, it didn't appear to be for something perverted. Valerie was curious yet wary at the same time.
Zenith hummed. Although he hadn't succeeded in gathering more allies, he wasn't too anxious. All the puzzle pieces will fall to the desired places gradually.
He left room 8 and headed for room 2. He had come to this place almost everyday at break time. His objective? To make friends, of course!
"Hello," He strode in and cheerfully waved, seemingly without a care in the world.
Amused, a man waved him back. He had short black hair, muscular body, and golden-brown eyes. He had dark brown skin and his facial features were sharp and angular. Even with various scars littered on his naked upper body and a big triangular scar on his neck, he cut quite a handsome figure.
This man was unexpectedly the number one gladiator. And whether it was an act or not, he was easy to get along with.
"You are here again? Are you really here just to make friends with me?" The man mused, "Or, do you have any other objectives? You know…" The number one's eyes suddenly went cold, "I don't like two-faced people. If you have anything to say, you better spit it out."
He glanced, everyone in room 2 looked at each other, and tacitly went out of the room and closed the door, leaving only Zenith and the number one gladiator.
"After all…" He drawled out, "I'm sure you are tired of acting as well, yes?"
It wasn't winter nor were there any holes in the wall, yet the winter air seemed to blow through the room. The air was almost cold as if an invisible chill was radiating, and the silence was daunting.
The number one looked at him silently. If he wanted to, he could have killed Zenith easily and he could get away with it undoubtedly. Just a snap of the neck, or just a kick aiming at his vitals, Zenith could very well leave this world, and his new life. However, the number one didn't do so. He didn't make any move and was watching Zenith silently. Waiting for his answer and had he given a wrong answer –or rather, an answer he did not want to hear– and that would be it for Zenith. Meanwhile, every counting second acted as a guillotine on top of Zenith's neck.
Cold sweats gathered on Zenith's forehead and his back was instantly soaked in sweat, making his shirt stuck on his lean body. He tried to make it appear that he was unaffected. He tried to smile, maybe he was smiling rightly or he was not. How does one smile rightly in the first place?
What kind of answer would this peculiar and eccentric number one gladiator want? With what kind of answer would he be satisfied with? Zenith's mind was running fast, faster than when he was in the college entrance exam, stuck in a complicated problem with less than five minutes left.
He desperately needed the strong men as allies. In order to escape this damning place, he needed them very much. This place was not just a mere slavery ring with no connections. In fact, behind this slavery ring was many other slavery rings, and from what Oleg gathered, it might as well be directly connected to the ruling family of the Southern continent– the Eggers Family.
In this situation where he wanted to be free, the strength of one Zenith, and a few Olegs weren't enough.
They not only needed to escape but also needed to survive as well.
He shut his eyes for a moment, and then reopened them, and decided to come clean. What kind of answer did the number one want? He didn't know, didn't plan to know, no time to get chummy and find out what the man ate yesterday, and what his plans were for the future.
He decided to gamble. If it was a six, he would live, gain a strong ally. And if it was a one, he would die and there would be no more transmigration or reincarnation. Such things usually happen once in a lifetime. And he had already used that one chance.
After coming to a simple truth, his taut nerves finally relaxed a little, and a soft and uncaring smile appeared on his face.
"I want to escape. I want to leave this place alive. And I want to survive. So, I need to gain you as an ally."
The number one's jaw slowly dropped and his face went blank. The answer was different from everything he expected. He searched for any sort of pretence in Zenith's eyes, but he found none. In number one's eyes, Zenith suddenly seemed to have transformed into a madman.
"...Are you aware of what you are saying?" He swallowed thickly, "Do you know what you are trying to do? Do you know that behind this place–"
Zenith cut him off, "--Behind this place is the Eggers family."
"You… So, you do know. Do you know how terrible that family is? Do you have any ideas? Once they catch you back, they will torture you. They will hurt you and make your life hang on by a thread. They will revive you. And they will torture you again. It is never ending. It's useless to struggle. And it's useless to resist. It will not be a battle against them. It will be a battle against yourself. Because you will never win. There could only be losers; dead losers, or mind-broken losers. Once you catch their attention, you might have wished you were dead instead," The number one became anxious and he rambled more and more. The name of the Eggers family seemed to have struck a chord with him.
The mighty number one gladiator whose strength was said to match a hundred men…
He was afraid.
In his eyes were the distinguishable and vivid paranoia and terror. That kind of terror, he had once seen in Belial's eyes before. When he was in the presence of someone who had almost ended his life. However, the terror in the number one's eyes was worse. And coupled with the fact how his 'story' just now was so detailed…
A foreboding feeling appeared and he had a terrible guess looming in his head. And he decided to test it out.
It was a terrible guess, and he could very well lose his life for testing the man in front of him. However, if he hesitated, this kind of chance would not come again. It was not that he was not afraid of dying. He still wanted to try living.… Then again, if he did not manage to escape, he would either die or become a living corpse.
If he was not mistaken…
"If I am not mistaken…" Zenith licked his dry lips. He felt as if he was being choked and it was hard to get the words out of his throat. He thought that he was not a sympathetic person. He squashed the rising feelings and almost bitterly shook his head. He could not sympathise with another person in this cruel world. Sympathy was a luxury in this world and he simply could not afford that.
The number one appeared to be caught between his memories and reality. Still, he looked at him, and within his eyes existed only empty blankness.
Zenith flinched.
"If I am not mistaken," He did not lower his head and continue speaking. However, this time, he spoke with a steady and powerful tone. He no longer hesitated, "You once suffered in the hand of the Eggers family, yes? And from the looks of that, you didn't manage to escape them. Am I right?"
They made eye contact and this time, it was the number one who flinched.
He advanced one step after another slowly and continued. Meanwhile, the number one's body visibly tensed. "I have sneaked at your matches before. And I have asked around. Ordinary gladiators are not a match to you. Hell, you could even thrash number two and three to the ground. No matter where you look, your strength is simply out of ordinary. Why are you here? Why are you still here? It's not like you appear to like this place either. So, why haven't you escaped? I think that there could only be two situations–"
He narrowed his eyes, "First, the Eggers family is holding your loved ones hostage. Second, you are afraid," There was less than three centimetres between the number one and him. Soon, their bodies almost pressed against each other, and Zenith whispered, and that sounded like a devil's temptation to the number one's ears. And he could not fault himself for falling.
"You were alone back then, weren't you? This time, you won't be alone. Because we will be together. And I promise to you, to myself, and to the Gods, that I will not leave you alone. Aren't you tired of living in constant — not knowing when you will die? Aren't you tired of being alone?" Zenith's wheat-coloured hands reached for the number one's scarred ones, and the number one couldn't help but think, His hands… This madman, this devil's hands are smaller than mine, then, as if finding out just now, he noticed, oh, and he is shorter and smaller than me too. He wondered, Every slave I have seen, including myself, who was punished after trying to escape, does not have such bright eyes… It was the eyes of someone who was trying to survive, to live at all cost, and would stop at nothing to achieve that. Perhaps, even death could not stop him. The number one was futilely and pathetically attracted to those eyes. "Let's escape together," The devil's voice sounded again, and he closed his eyes, and prayed, Oh Lord, forgive me for I have sinned. And forgive me for I am trying to sin again.
He clenched the smaller hands back, and as if praying, he whispered, "Remember. Please remember, my name… the name that I have lost the right to use… is called 'Isaiah'. I was once a servant of God," He smiled sadly, "However, I no longer am right now. God had deemed me useless, a traitor, and had thrown me away. ''He'' believed that I had committed a heresy. It was the cost of the whole family that led to the continuance of my existence."
"Did you?" Zenith asked. The number one –actually, he should be calling him 'Isaiah' now– Isaiah looked as if he did not understand the question. The man tilted his head. He did not, in fact, lash out after having his secrets out or having his sore spots poked at. Unexpectedly, a certain energy of innocence seemed to radiate from him, almost like a big puppy, and his previous vicious and murderous appearance was nowhere to be seen.
This time, he elaborated the question, "I mean, did you really betray your Lord, Isaiah?"
Isaiah was taken aback. Whether it was from the question or the usage of his true name, he did not know. Isaiah soon collected himself and bitterly shook his head, his voice devastatingly small, "No. No, I did not. I didn't betray the Lord. After all, how could I? I have served the Lord since I was born. And the purpose of my life was to serve the Lord."
Silence reigned between the two of them. Zenith tentatively probed, "Then… Are you coming with us? With me?"
In response to that, Isaiah only leaned closer to him.
And Zenith understood that it was a tacit agreement.
"Then Isaiah," Zenith smiled brightly. Isaiah was momentarily blinded by the smile and subconsciously asked, "What?"
"Let's go catch number two!"
He ignored Isaiah's dumbed look and dragged the man out of the room by wrist.
"Bang!" The door to room number 5 was flung open and hit the side of the wall. The occupants inside who were peacefully resting were dumbfounded. Among them was the gladiator number two. At first, he only saw a scrawny boy at the door. He prepared to berate. How dare that boy disrupt his rest!?
Then, he saw the cold and murderous number one slowly sliding from behind the boy. Is this boy number one's servant? Number two thought it was possible. What business could number one have with me? Did I offend him somewhere? Or, did he decide to get rid of me for fun?
Just as cold sweat beaded on number two's forehead, he saw the presumed servant boy pointing at him with shining eyes.
"Go, Isa– number one, go! Beat him up!"
What the hell!?
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
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