The Lord of Rot

A madness slowly surged over the underground arena - a given when a new project arrives, everyone as eager as the next to see their new companion be torn to shreds by the constant barrage of battles they faced. They weren't supposed to survive, those who did were either lucky or dumb enough to just scrape by. An injured project wouldn't be much of a fighter after all - but their new project? 

He wasn't that different than the others who had arrived here - perhaps it was unique that he had been forced to come, unlike the rest who willingly gave up their freedom, his was the only one that was taken from him. But he wasn't special at all... he was rather unordinary to the other projects, all of them seeing how his battles all seemingly ended with him victorious but bruised. He must have been incredibly lucky. 

Time must have moved faster down in this stone halls, where a day consisted of waking of off the floor with a heavy neck, then being directed into one of the arenas. Konrad figured out that the place was bigger than he thought. There were at least three arenas, each with the same netting, but the only difference was the number of gates, the size of the arena and the ground. Yet he had been through three different, but there could have been many more.

He would be dragged to one of these arenas, he would be pitted against one of the creatures - he would struggle as much as he could, and then he would slash it with his arm. Sometimes the abominations would be regenerating with their rotted flesh, and those times he merely had to crush their skulls or the similar. He didn't want to stand out, but since they never seemed impressed with his acts, he would continue doing the same. 

Then once he killed the rotting creature, hearing the sweet voice whispering in his ear, "You have cleansed another rotting soul", he would enter his humble abode. He would feel welcomed by Viktor, who didn't seem bruised at all. He never spoke of his battles against the monsters, which was unique, since an unbruised man like him must have wished to brag. 

Before he could relax too much, the heaviness was felt in his body, culminating around his neck. He would practically fall to the ground, taking a few minutes of rest before he nudged his body against one of the walls and was able to sit up. It was a strange type of hell he was in - strange because it didn't seem to bad for him. He was allowed battles, he was allowed company. 

Sometimes Konrad would naively ask Viktor of the town above, "What kinds of things could you do up there?", and Viktor would respond with things such as, "If you have the Durs, you can do anything - - you can own land, own houses, you can even own, don't tell anyone this - but people!", and Konrad would look concerned, "People?! That's strange...", and Viktor would nod and say, "There are no laws, but its humanity." 

He would grow used to the feeling of sand and dust in his mouth instead of food, he would grow used to the heaviness around his neck. He would also grow used to the accompanying party. Viktor was a good man, but his sayings were always external, he couldn't really understand anything about him. 

That would repeat over and over again... 

* * *

The battles he faced would be consistent - a monster or two would enter through one of the doors, whoever was victorious would be able to leave the gate. It was a simple battle, a simple direction. The cheering around him made it clear whosoever they cheered for - it was never him. If it was anything these people enjoyed, it was watching a human being torn to shreds. Konrad learned this after hearing their obscene sheers after one of the neighbours hadn't come back after fighting with two abominations. 

The more he fought - the stronger he got. After only being subject to battle after battle, he could not really understand the weight of his own strength. The repeating and monotonous cycle would make any kind of planning difficult, it was like the whole world was setting into cement for him. 

... 

'Damn, why did that bastard Aphaim trick me to come here!' Konrad pierced through the abomination with force. His boned blade tearing through the scaly skin of an abomination without a clear name. The creature no doubt gathered by the Union. 

His body seemed to be sweating. The battle must have been difficult, his body failing. But miraculously he had made it through another of the strenuous battles. He yelled in anger, then thought, 'Damn it! Why do I have to drag out these battles for so long...'

It was an overstatement to say that Konrad was strong - but if there was something he had, it was speed. He could very quickly defeat those weaker than himself, but those stronger than himself? He could hope for luck, he could hope for strategy, he could hope for past memories. More than that he couldn't. 

'To think it isn't just I who has to battle all these bastards... And there comes the boos.' 

The crowd refused to cheer for him, but for some reason the crowd never diminished. Perhaps they were waiting for some creature to be too strong for Konrad to handle. But yet, that was not happening. He could hear in their tones that they were growing impatient. 

This was the second? No, the third? No, the tenth? It was the battle where he would have grown used. Entering the arena looking tired, closely avoiding the first attack from the monstrosity - running around in fear, trying to make a few noises in a fearful way. Then finally, he would stab through it, a move seemingly full of luck. After nailing this ten times, the crowd must have grown suspicious, but they still seemed as disappointed as before. 

But Konrad didn't have a lack of objective, his body wasn't strong enough, yes... but there was something he hadn't thought of before. This time, Konrad had planned an escape from the underground arena...