Volume 2 Chapter 5
On the simple cot, there was only a thin sheet. High up on the wall, a small vent, blocked by three iron bars, let in a sliver of air. The walls were all made of crude stone blocks.
The quiet, dark dungeon was lit only by the faint glow of candles.
It seemed the rooms had some kind of one-way soundproofing magic. I could see the other slaves’ lips moving, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying.
Out in the corridor, however, their voices were perfectly clear. I suppose that was a privilege reserved for the guards.
Dispelling such a low-level spell could be done with a bottom-tier C-rank enhancement. It made sense; powerful individuals were a minority, and how many of them would be unlucky enough to end up as slaves in the empire? If someone like that were captured, they’d probably be kept in a VIP room, well-fed and well-treated. If a prisoner like that got upset and decided to stage a jailbreak, it would be a massive headache for their captors.
A guard approached and passed a wooden tray through the bars.
On it were two long loaves of bread and two bowls of vegetable soup.
“De— Alice. Food.”
Nia picked up the wooden tray and placed it on the rough, simple table.
“You eat too, big sis Laura.”
I couldn’t let my guard down for a second. The guards outside weren’t fools.
The food didn’t taste great, but it was sufficient for replenishing my mana. As long as my stomach was full, my mana recovery rate would increase.
Day by day, more slaves were brought into the dungeon, and the cells gradually filled up.
The male-to-female ratio was about nine to one. So these female slaves would rather die than serve that so-called Lord Ciro. Even knowing the cruel fate that awaited them in the Colosseum, they still chose the first option without hesitation…
As the Demon King, a being of immense power, there was nothing I could do for them openly. My battle with the Strip Empire had taught me that the Demon King is a being feared by all—the ruler of the merciless demons, a legendary figure of mystery and power. The idea of overwhelming the Demon King with sheer numbers was a joke. Revealing my identity would only make me a public enemy. The look of fear in the eyes of the Colin Village residents, whom I had saved on a whim, was still fresh in my memory… It was a look of terror and despair, an expression of being unable to accept the reality before them.
I had to be more composed, more restrained, to prevent what happened in Colin Village from happening again.
The fact that I was a vampire who was immune to sunlight also had to be buried deep within my heart. It was a terrifying truth, making me a heretic among heretics. The weaknesses of a vampire: the cross, sunlight, garlic, holy water, and a wooden stake. The cross inflicted ‘fear,’ garlic acted as a ‘repellent,’ holy water was a ‘poison,’ a wooden stake was a ‘binding,’ and sunlight represented ‘destruction.’
The cross was only effective against newborns. Garlic, while disgusting, wasn’t enough to stop me from acting. I hadn’t tried a wooden stake. Holy water couldn’t do any truly effective damage to me; it could only slow my regeneration. And my complete immunity to sunlight allowed me to move about during the day without being burned to death. I wouldn’t get sick, and I wouldn’t age. I was immortal.
The only drawback was the need to drink fresh blood, and it had been over half a month since I’d last “quenched my thirst.” My throat was painfully dry.
This vampiric impulse was constantly growing stronger. I found my vision involuntarily zooming in on the necks of the slaves and guards.
I was afraid that when the time came, my actions would no longer be under the control of my reason.
A guard’s voice echoed down the corridor.
“Alright, you slaves! The preliminary qualifying match to earn your freedom begins in one hour! Get ready! The rule is simple: only the last four surviving teams will advance to the finals!”
