Movement caught his eye. A girl was trying to redo his bandages as he slept. She offered a sheepish smile when she saw him wake. It wasn’t Omari; likely one of her assistants. Cedric forced a warm smile, trying not to spook her. He didn't need any more reasons for guards to come running.
“What’s going on? Where were you when I was attacked?” Cedric’s mental voice was sharp.
Lisa materialized in the corner, her spectral form shimmering. Cedric tried to sit up, but the assistant’s hands were surprisingly firm, pushing him back down. She spoke in a thick accent, telling him he must not move. He sighed and relaxed, letting her work. She smelled faintly of cinnamon beneath the heavy incense.
“Sorry, Master. I was on the other side of the camp while you were resting,” Lisa whispered, hovering closer. She rested a hand on his shoulder, though he felt only a faint chill. “When I detected your distress, I came as quickly as I could. There was nothing I could do.”
She hung her head, her shimmering form dimming as if a shadow had passed over her heart. Cedric felt a sharp pang of guilt. He reached out through their bond, projecting a surge of reassurance and warmth—the mental equivalent of a tight embrace. As the warmth hit her, the light returned to her spirit, and she looked up with a small, grateful smile.
“Where is the Grimoire?”
Lisa gave a subtle nod to his left. He turned his head and saw the scaled cover and the dull topaz eye resting on a nearby stool. He winced as the assistant pressed a fresh bandage onto his side and he flashed her a glare. Surprisingly, she glared right back, unfazed by his "stink eye." He sighed; she reminded him of a girl he once loved—stubborn and unimpressed by his drama.
When he was finally allowed to move, he stood and reached for the book. That was when he felt the weight. Two pairs of thick metal bands were strapped to his wrists. No chains, but the surface was etched with intricate, magic-dampening runes.
Bastards, he thought. They were thorough.
“Do you need anything? Ormari is busy, but I can bring you food,” the assistant offered, her tone genuinely kind.
The warmth caught him off guard. He blanked for a second until Lisa snapped her fingers in front of his face.
“Yeah. If you could, that would be nice.”
As the girl left, Cedric adjusted his hair. It was getting long and matted; he doubted this place had a barber, but he could hope. He looked at the tent flap, sensing the guards stationed outside.
Escape from the camp was a death sentence. Run now, and he’d be beaten back into a cage. Escape from a city, however... that had potential. At least here he had consistent food and water. It was a meager comfort, but living out in the bush alone wasn't safe anymore.
He clenched his fists, the dampening metal feeling colder than before. A hollow ache throbbed in the back of his mind where the mental link to his pack used to be. He’d lost them because of these people. He’d only known those creatures for a short time, but the bond had been real. Now, it was just a scar.
I’ll make them all suffer for it, he promised himself. Lisa didn't disagree.
The assistant returned with a plate of mukka fruit, watermelon, and bread. Cedric ate eagerly, the fresh fruit cutting through the dry taste of the camp air. Once finished, he pulled the Grimoire into his lap. He couldn’t channel mana, but he could still read the ledger of his soul.
[Status]
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Mana Pool: 1000/1000
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Mana Regen: 5 per minute
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Mana Storage: 383
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Logs: Gained 50 mana from Nomad Warrior death. Gained additional 10 mana for killing target personally. Small negligible gains from Ferratosk hunting fish.
He sighed heavily. He had the power, but no way to vent it.
“Master, please calm yourself. You survived,” Lisa said softly, wrapping her spirit arms around his neck. She nestled her head against him. “You are unbroken.”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
It made him want to cry, but he held it back. Unbreakable didn't mean emotionless, and she was the only one who knew that.
Eventually, Cedric was escorted out of the tent and brought before Rejar. The sub-chief’s tent smelled of sex and expensive incense. Cedric rolled his eyes; power clearly had its perks in this camp. Two officers, Lakar and a woman he didn't know, stood by the entrance.
“Nice to see you. Sit,” Rejar ordered.
Cedric hesitated a beat too long.
“Ah, so it is true. You are immune to the command collars.” Rejar stood.
Cedric tried to bolt, but Lakar and the other man were on him instantly, slamming him into the dirt.
“I wondered how you killed Laema. Now it makes sense.” Rejar walked over as Cedric bared his teeth like a cornered animal. The sub-chief wasn't as soft as he looked—his chubby frame was a mask for a body covered in warrior's scars.
Surprisingly, Rejar reached down and helped Cedric up.
“I should thank you for killing Laema. He was a worthless bastard,” Rejar said, pouring a glass of water with sliced lemons. He offered it to Cedric. “But his father is another Sub-Chief. If I keep you here, he’ll take your head to save face. Which means I have to sell you immediately.”
He nodded to Lakar, who slipped a bronze medallion over Cedric’s head. It depicted a snarling jackal.
“That’s the mark of a pit fighter. I’m selling you to a friend in Galadrosa who likes tough foreigners.” Rejar took a slow sip of his drink. “Be honored. He’s paying eighteen gold for you. Quite the price.”
“Why should I care?” Cedric asked bluntly.
Lakar stiffened, but Rejar just grinned. It was a grim, calculating look.
“Because the fights will be rigged eventually. Laema’s father will find you. I’m warning you now: be ready. I don’t want to lose my profit because you weren't looking for a knife in the dark.” Rejar sat back, his edge softening. “I’m moving you to a special wagon. Be a good paleskin.”
Cedric grounded his teeth but said nothing.
The next few hours were spent in a reinforced wagon. He was guarded by four elite soldiers—two men and two women. The women wore unique bronze masks that looked like human faces, though they hadn't strapped them on yet. They carried javelins and watched him with more curiosity than malice.
“Scary bunch, huh?” Cedric joked to Lisa within his mind.
One of the female guards, a woman with deep brown hair named Okara, kept staring.
“Not that ugly, am I?” Cedric asked.
She looked away at first, then spoke softly. “Just not used to your hair color. Or your skin.”
Cedric offered a warm smile that made her blush. A male guard immediately kicked Cedric’s leg. “No talking!”
Cedric turned his head slowly. He let his eyes go flat and unleashed the creepiest, most predatory grin he could manage. The man blanched, recoiling a step. The women giggled, and Cedric joined them, earning him a scowl from both men.
During the long, dusty trek, Cedric managed to squeeze info out of Okara. Galadrosa sounded like a beast of a city—a massive trading hub built right on the banks of a river, where the currency was as likely to be blood as it was gold. The concept of river travel intrigued him; it sounded like something straight off the Nile back on Earth. But that thought brought a darker one to mind: crocodiles. He wondered if the waters here held crocodiles like the ones back home, or if magic had twisted them into something much bigger and hungrier. The idea of a magic-infused croc lunging from the silt gave him a genuine shudder. He'd had enough trouble with humans but even then he'd prefer them over a living walking tank.
When they arrived at the city he was shaken awake as the wagon slowed.
“We are here,” Okara said. She had her mask on now, the bronze features cold and unmoving. She unlocked his chains, though the dampening cuffs remained.
Cedric hopped off the wagon and stopped. The city walls were breathtaking—twelve feet of solid stone stretching for miles. In the moonlight, the walls looked like they’d been pulled straight from the earth.
He was led past a line of slaves. A man in blue robes, a Life Mage, was casting golden spells to check for disease. Those who were "too far gone" were dragged toward a corner of the wall that smelled faintly of rot.
When it was Cedric’s turn, the magic felt like a cold, oily film sliding over his skin. He flinched involuntarily—the sensation was too close to the jagged memory of the lightning spell that had fried his nerves into submission—but he forced himself to hold his cool. The mage gave a curt, indifferent nod, and Cedric was shoved roughly into a group of men all marked by the same bronze jackal medallion. More livestock for the pits.
They were loaded into a fresh wagon and jolted into the city proper. Galadrosa didn’t sleep; the streets were bustling with a frantic energy even under the cover of night. Cedric watched the sea of faces passing by—men of every color and creed. To his Earth-born eyes, many looked familiar, with features that wouldn't have been out of place in Africa, South America, or Asia. It was a jarring reminder of home, but the heavy scent of river silt and the cold weight of his cuffs quickly pulled him back. In this world, they weren't people; they were just merchandise.
“Criminals,” Lisa whispered. “Sentenced to the blood sport.”
The wagon stopped at a large villa-like complex. Three men waited. One was a tall man in a fancy shirt and a wide-brimmed hat. Two hired muscles stood behind him, wearing red wristbands that glowed with black symbols.
“Magic bands that amplify power,” Lisa warned.
The man in the hat stepped forward. “I am Ymir. I heard about the paleskin who killed the nomads.”
He didn't look at Cedric like a person; he looked at him like a prized stallion. He inspected Cedric’s hands and teeth, then dropped a heavy bag of coins into the nomad guard’s hand.
“The rest can go to the open market,” Ymir said, pointing a gloved finger at Cedric. “This one is the best.”
The other slaves were hauled away. Cedric stood alone with Ymir and his muscle.
“Welcome to your new home,” Ymir said, snapping his fingers. “For now, you will have private quarters. In the morning, you shall see what I need of you.”
The guards flanked Cedric and led him into a simple but clean bedroom. They stepped out and locked the heavy door behind them.
Cedric walked to the window, looking out at the flickering lights of Galadrosa. He gripped the magic-dampening metal on his wrists until his knuckles turned white.
“Let them think they bought a fighter,” he whispered to the empty room. “They bought a monster.”