The old man leaned back, relaxed, and answered after a pause, "Oh, I harbor no intentions of fleeing. There exists no adversary I cannot vanquish. My plan?
I win the Arena of Life. I take back what I lost. And if fortune is kind, I take that man’s other eye too." His laughter boomed through the cell. Confidence filled it, and so did payback.
Ty raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then how did you lose an eye? How did you end up captive? And why do you look like a hermit who has been stuck in this cell for months?"
The old man laughed hard, though there was old pain under it. "Being the strongest in the room isn’t merely about muscling through every obstacle," he said. "There’s a limit to what one can achieve in solitude.
It’s a lesson well worth learning," he added, his gaze settling hard on Ty.
Their conversation broke under a loud bang that rolled through the cell. A door swung open somewhere beyond the bars, ending the rhythm of their exchange.
Ty’s annoyance slipped out at once. "Great, just when I was contemplating having the fairy attempt to shatter these stones."
Then the cell door creaked open, revealing four guards in matching uniforms marked by purple masks with golden eye coverings. One stepped forward and unrolled a scroll with practiced stiffness.
His voice was formal and cold as he announced, "Demon Child, you are hereby summoned to the Testing Arena to demonstrate your abilities. Any refusal will result in immediate execution.
Likewise, resist us or engage in misconduct en route, and you will face execution."
The guard cleared his throat slightly before continuing, his tone unyielding, "Should your abilities be deemed inadequate for the benefit of The Heian Kingdom, your execution will be carried out promptly. Do you have any questions, bottom tier?"
Ty, visibly annoyed and with his arms still restrained by the stones, retorted, "So, essentially, any action not in favor of the ’Heian Kingdom’ leads to decapitation. And what exactly is a ’bottom tier’?"
The guard nodded, his expression unchanging as he explained, "Correct. The term ’bottom tier’ refers to those who fall below the classification of a ’citizen.’ Such individuals are subject to immediate punitive measures upon any rule infraction."
He then asked, "Do you have any more questions, bottom tier?"
Ty, glancing over his shoulder towards the fairy, responded, "No, but--is my fairy companion permitted to accompany me?" His gaze shifted back to the guard, "I’m uncertain about leaving her here with the old man.
He’s been mulling over escape plans, and she retains her abilities, after all."
The cell tightened around the silence. The fairy’s wings fluttered under the faint light as she playfully shot a tiny stream of water from her hands.
Her grin carried enough mischief to make the grim room feel less certain of itself.
The stone walls carried her small laugh back to them, a rare bit of lightness in the dungeon.
Ty watched the stream break against the floor and vanish between the cracks.
It was childish.
It was also the first harmless thing he had seen in hours.
For a second, he understood why the old man had laughed at impossible odds. Sometimes a person grabbed whatever foolish little victory they could.
The speaking guard, momentarily caught off guard by the fairy’s antics, cast a wary glance at his comrades. Their stoic expressions were like masks of stone, unmoved and detached.
He reached into his pocket slowly, then turned his back to Ty and the fairy.
One guard at the door drew a weapon that looked uncomfortably close to an earthly rifle. Metal flashed in the low light, and the room became much less funny.
Ty’s focus shifted to the guard who had turned away, now holding an object reminiscent of a traditional phone.
Ty strained to catch pieces of the muffled conversation on the other side of the cell. He could only make out the guard’s voice relaying the question to someone else.
The discussion, stretching longer than Ty anticipated, ended with the click of a button and the phone disappearing back into the guard’s pocket.
Refocusing his attention on Ty, the guard said, "Yes, she may accompany you. But refrain from making unfounded accusations against others unless you’re prepared to substantiate them."
Ty nodded, offering a slight bow. "My apologies, I’m not well-versed in your rules. Where I hail from, words often provoke action with scant regard for proof," he said, smirking slightly at the guard.
"Mind your words here, lest you wish to lose your tongue," the guard warned sternly. "Now, follow us."
The old man grinned. "Farewell, Demon Boy. Try not to meet your end too soon. I might have use for you later." Amusement sat plainly in his voice.
As they stepped out of the cell, the fairy settled onto Ty’s hair, her tiny fingers gripping gently. Her presence was light, but it still helped.
They moved from the cell’s harsh, stone floor into a corridor that contrasted sharply with its sleek, polished surface.
Each step on the glossy floor sent a chill through Ty’s bare feet, the cold, smooth texture a vivid reminder of his exposed and precarious situation.
Ty glanced down at his grimy feet. "Will I get shoes at some point?" he asked, caught between hope and resignation.
The guard gave Ty’s dirt-streaked feet one dismissive look. Scorn edged his voice as he replied, "Shoes, along with the rest of your attire, will be decided by your designer, should you be chosen.
Your immediate concern should be to make a lasting impression on the retainer."
As they continued walking, Ty felt the difference between the dungeon’s cramped confinement and the corridor’s open stretch.
The air tasted less stale, but the feeling of being trapped stayed with him. Freedom was still nowhere close.
Ty flexed his toes against the floor and kept walking anyway.
If they wanted him afraid before he even saw the arena, they were going to be disappointed.