Damian stood with his blood dripping blade in the eye of the storm. A broken arm holding a sorry excuse for a shield that couldn't cover him from a wind's whisper. Legs shivering desperately to carry his battered body. The angry mob wouldn't wait any longer. This soon-to-be corpse is ripe for the picking, with no strength to defend him. The crowd has grown weary, they need to quench their hatred in his blood, or it will never be satisfied.

Suddenly a figure flashed before the weakened Damian. "This boy has won the duel and is now under my protection. Anyone who wishes him harm must answer to me directly" Garrik bellowed as he stood in front of Damian with tremendous presence. None of the prisoners dared to take a single step closer, or rather the crowd slowly dispersed like ants.

Teran emerged from the crowd, leaned Damian on his shoulder, and dragged him away as he followed Garrick. "-I told Teran that he could mentor Damian, but I never thought this human would actually live. There is also something about this boy, it might be that I have become senile, but I truly believe there is more to him than what we saw. I might have to let Teran down this time-" Garrick pondered as he strolled away.

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His body trembled with pain strolling between every muscle. The voices of the crowd drilling into his ears like a rock band with a synergy worse than highway traffic. "-I have to move-" without remorse, his muscles protested, raging with defiance, begging him to release the heavy piece of metal within his numbed fingers "Just let go" pleaded the burdened body.

Eyes sewn shut with fatigue. Or is it just the sweat and blood burning his pupils like hot sauce? Even through the leather boots, the sands never felt so soft, so inviting. Like a cold bed, promising to take away the pain from his mind and body, all he had to do is fall. Gravity will no doubt assist, speeding the process.

Shattered glass stung from within his left arm to half of his torso. Even the thought of moving a finger electrified it. The gnawing of the angry mob still persists, Getting closer and louder. "-there's no time...I NEED TO MOVE!!-" Demanded the boy submerging the screams of his muscles. He opens his eyes.

His pupils frantically dart left and right, trying to detect any incoming attack that his body could hopefully have the time to react to. The crowd was nowhere to be found. Shouts dissipated as if they never existed. The space around him seemed smaller, way smaller than before his fight "-wait a minute-"

This was not the arena, but still familiar to Damian. by fractions, his memory leaked back to the moment he pulled the blade out of his foe's throat. A sense of relief dawned on him, "well, I am glad that was over" he exhaled, glad that it was not him rotting away on crimson sands instead or torn to bloody bits by countless hands.

Suddenly a new fear set in like a hawk swooping on its prey. "-oh no-" this place is worse than the arena, far worse. "-Oh lord no-" this place was none other than the hellish white torturing chamber of Satan's little niece, and she might be back at any given moment to quench her thirst on Damian's agony. Just as he lifted his head, pain smites his weakened body back in place.

Footsteps resonated from behind the door of the room, nailing fear into his heart. "-shit, I'm too late!-" all he could do was rest his head back on the bed and pray with all his heart for a miracle. the door bursts open, and Kimara waltz into the infirmary, accompanied by a guard that looked inferior in size compared to his comrades. "I have told you countless times that I will not be giving you any more drugs!"

"All I need is for you to spare me one small bottle from the cabinet, and no one is the wiser" the guard persisted. At the same time, he hunched with a poorly practiced smile and hands rubbing against each other like a sleazy merchant. "this is not the first time you have taken medicine from the infirmary" Kimara turned to the guard with an annoyed expression.

The skinny guard momentarily bleached with shock as Kimara turned to face him. "yes, I am aware of potions going missing in my absence, and no, I will not be giving you any more drugs. Also, if I notice any more tools or drugs going missing, I will be informing Zol" just as Kimara finished her scolding, the guard's expression shifted, but this time a look of annoyance was born.

"Now listen here, Tainted blood" shock struck Kimara's face from what she heard, but that only gave the skinny guard more motivation to keep pushing, "Oh yes, I have my own sources, and I know who you are. now listen here and listen well, from now on you will give me as many drugs as I need or the other guards will know about your little secret" the guard spoke with glee and arrogance.

The back of his bony hands slowly reached for Kimara's cheek, brushing against it. "And I might ask for a few more favors at night." fear and disgust slowly surfaced on both Kimara's face and body. Face filled with revulsion, while her body coiled and quivered in fright, of what vile plans this weasel is plotting. "The lady said no" a voice resonated as a hand clasped on the guard's outstretched hand.

To Kimara's and the guard's surprise, this voice belonged to Damian, who is now standing right next to the guard. As the hunched guard looked at the boy, he was greeted with a glare that sent chills down his spine, coiling around every bone. Those eyes peered into his very core, and fear slithered into every fiber of the now trembling guard's being. His gaze did not ask. It demanded one thing "stand down".

-Terror gaze- Active

"W-We will continue our discussion later" after what seemed like ages, that is what the guard said as he hurriedly yanked his sweating hands and scurried away. After the door closed, Damian shifted his attention to Kimara, who was still in a state of shock. Even with her face turning the other way, it was still apparent, but she quickly occupied herself with rearranging a shelf that needed no attention whatsoever.

Damian opened his mouth to speak but quickly rejected the thought as he couldn't collect the right set of words. "you heard everything?" her feminine voice gently broke the silence, "..." again no words came to aid him. "so now you know I'm a tainted blood... a hybrid... a mixture of races... is it my fault that I was born this way? I never asked for any of this!?" she turned to Damian with crimson cheeks under streams of tears.

"I don't know what kind of circumstances or hardships you went through, nor can I say I know how it feels because then I would be lying" flashes of Damian's mother rushed through his head, flooding his memory... coming home at midnight wearing a waitress attire with fatigue tearing through her face as she came from a part-time job. Other memories streamed through... Counting bills which she had no idea how to pay...

Falling ill yet still refusing to take a day off... and finally crying herself to sleep every night, from the accumulating physical and emotional stress. Thanks to some asshole who ditched her because he was afraid of taking responsibility for his actions, "But no one should ever suffer the mistakes of others, no matter who that person is." Before Damian realized it, his fist was already curled in a fist, and resentment, hatred, and anger were displayed on his face.

"W-well, to tell the truth, I didn't know what tainted blood meant till you told me, not that it matters to me" His hand calmed his hair as he attempted to change the mood, and it did but not in a way Damian wanted nor expected. Kimara's face went bright red. A cocktail of anger and embarrassment glared at him, and that's when Damian knew... He fucked up.

"It matters not. More importantly, I need to inspect and heal you, so you can be on your way" She sighed as she strolled calmly picking some potions. Damian looked at her cautiously but shrugged it off a minute later after his shattered bones reminded him of the pain he received in the arena. As he lay back on the white bed, Kimara got closer with her palms hovering over the boy's chest.

"Thank you," Kimara muttered with her still blushing face. Damian looked at her, but his ears failed to grasp her last words due to the pain piling up "what was that?" he asked, "n-nothing, I just remembered something important," she uttered. "And what's that?" suddenly, Kimara's face seemed scary in Damian's eyes right after her next words left her lips. "I clearly recall you promised me not to get hurt this bad again" even with her innocent smile Damian saw the grim reaper himself "-shit.. she's still mad-" but the boy was too late.

After an excruciating pain accompanied by a few screams, Damian was back to peak condition. After following one of the guards to his cell, the boy immediately notices that this cell was not the same cell he was previously in. For starters, the cell was easily three times bigger. An additional reason was that the fat and smelly cellmate that he first met. Has been now replaced with a blond-haired young elf standing on his hands with sweat gushing from his body like wet laundry.

"How are your injuries, Damian?" an old voice rang from a bed at the end of the cell, forcing Damian's attention with ease. Garrik walked towards Damian at his own slow pace, which a turtle might have a good chance of catching up to. "I'm better now, thank yo-" before Damian managed to utter another word, he was interrupted by Garrik, "I'm glad you are up and well but do not let arrogance cloud your judgment. You killing Mual is nothing less than a miracle..."

Garrik continued while still walking at his snail-like pace. "But Mual is weak, and your survival against him only puts you in a harder position. You need hard training if you want to live through the Flesh Carnival." Halfway through the old elf's journey across the room, he picked an old wooden cane that rested on the wall. "So from now on, you will train with Teran, and hopefully, you just might live long enough to surrender before your opponent manages to separate your head from your shoulders."

Damian stood in place like a statue before he spoke with a confused impression and a raised eyebrow, "what's a Flesh carnival?" Garrik sighed when hearing this as if preparing to give a long boring speech that he was forced into. "Sit down. This will take some time".

Flesh Carnival: Every six months in Shatteredbone, a tournament is held where a number of sixteen chosen fighters battle against each other in an epic and bloody duel till one dies or surrenders. Each fighter may choose a weapon of his desired preference, be it a sword, a spear, a hatchet, or even a bow, from the weapons in the prison's possession for the battle. The winner will have his rank raised and a single wish granted, given that it will be within the Warden's reach.

A release or a temporary pardon from prison is declined automatically. Should a fighter be killed before his match, The one who dealt the killing blow will take his place, unless he is another participant in the tournament, then that participant will be handy capped the upcoming round, and the Warden will choose another candidate.

If the number of fighters is lower than sixteen before or during the tournament, the Warden will choose the prisoners until the required number is met. The Flesh Carnival tournament was started as a method of entertainment for both prisoners and staff of the Shatteredbones.

"S-so you're telling me that I have to fight more people just because I killed that meathead, Mual!?" Damian bolted from the bed after hearing Garrick's explanation. "to put it simply, yes, and you will train under my supervision if you want to stay in one piece, so from now on you will do every exercise Teran does you sweat blood and practice with him till you limbs fall off, is that clear?"

You have a new quest.

Endure the harsh training under Garrik's guidance for two weeks.

Rewards

200 EXP every successful day of training.

Random loot every successful day of training.

You have a new quest.

Participate in the Flesh Carnival tournament and achieve 1st place.

Rewards

500 EXP after every victorious match.

"traveler's chest" loot box after winning 1st place.

Damian kept his silence as he read the quests the floating windows gave him, this is actually a good opportunity since he never got the chance to train, and now someone is actually offering to train him, which just might be the best way to get stronger fast, yet something bothered the boy, "Why are you helping me, Mr.Garrick?" not that the reason mattered since he will be stronger in the end, but being careful never hurts.

"Survive the first match, and I will answer your question" The old man replied with a passive expression on his face. "fair enough. when do we start?" a faint smile carefully curled under the old man's bushy mustache with his eyes slightly widened. "We start immediately since the tournament begins two weeks from now. You have no time at all"