(Third Person POV)
What neither Amanda nor the Cipher Pol agents expected when they bought him was that Siddharta, true to his name, met their cruelty with calmness and a smile. He listened to them, he spoke with humour, and even in the darkest moments, he showed a strange compassion and unbotheredness. Over time, this unshakable resolve began to work its way into others.
Saint Amanda, a World Noble, a Celestial Dragon, a snotty brat, who had tried to break him herself, found her certainty wavering. The two Cipher Pol agents who guarded her and were present also changed. To their own surprise, all three began to see him not as a mere slave but as something different—someone who exuded mysterious wisdom, patience, and strength. Soon they looked to him less as a prisoner and more as a spiritual guide, drawn to his strange mixture of compassion, insight, and humour.
The transition happened without them realising that it did. After Sid told Amanda the first story about the lily, she wanted to hear another one and then another. Eventually, she ordered food to be brought and had him fed. She sat beside him, which was considered blasphemous. She seemed to forget her initial idea of torturing Sid to get him to scream and amuse her. Her entitlement melted in the golden presence that was the child Sid. He seemed older than he was and wiser than most elderly, all elderly. His confidence was staggering, and the way he handled himself as well.
For half a year, he lived among them, in the World Noble household, not as a slave but as a friend of sorts, though they treated him like more. Amanda was no longer the same cruel noble girl, and the Cipher Pol had softened in his presence as well. They looked to him, the barely 3-year-old child, for guidance, as ridiculous as that sounded. It went as far as Sid and Amanda dining with the rest of the slaves, she owned and setting them free to roam her mansion as they pleased.
However, nothing lasts forever.
When Amanda's father discovered this change, his fury knew no bounds. With spit flying through the air and profanities being flung around, he declared that Siddharta's corrupting influence must be erased, and ordered the boy thrown into the fighting pits to break him once and for all. He was furious beyond belief, seeing his daughter, who pleaded for Sid, as corrupted and almost having lost her way. He actually cried seeing her show compassion towards another living creature that wasn't a World Noble like them. It was a grand scene where they tried to hide the truth from the other nobles.
.
"So what are we doing now? Am I getting sold again? I was starting to like it here, you know," Sid told the torturer.
"Stop talking, Sid! Stop looking at me when you speak—it makes me sad and hard to do what I have to. Why did you have to go so far?" Ronald asked.
Ronald was the torturer who was in charge of 'punishing' the slaves and inflicting pain on them when the World Nobles wanted one of their wills broken. But Ronald had met Sid months ago, and like the others, he too had changed since then. He saw Sid as his friend and was reluctant to do what he was ordered to.
"I didn't do anything. I spent some time with them and told them that their actions were wrong. That's it."
"Sigh, I know. Do you have any idea how embarrassing this was to them? A child managed to 'manipulate' the nobles into having him spend time with them and eating at their table. They won't forget that. And I just wish it were different. You're barely three years old."
"So what's happening now? Am I being put through torture?"
"You will fight for the Celestial Dragons' amusement. They have already arranged a battle with Saint Sargant and Saint Anor. All the slaves will fight to the death, and you will be one of them. Saint Charles wants to see you scream."
"I think you need a new job, Ronald. I hear the world is quite beautiful. Why don't you try to find something else? A man with your skills would make a wonderful chef, I'm sure."
"Sigh, don't start, Sid. I am depressed over here."
"Why, though? Nothing happens to you. And I'll be fine, don't worry."
"I wish I had your confidence."
.
Siddharta was taken to the pits, waiting with other slaves for the fight to begin. They were imposing figures, muscles bulging with strength and rage.
"Are you here for the fighting too?" he asked one of them, his calm tone felt disarming in such a place.
"Don't talk, kid. I won't spare you just because you're a child. I have a child myself, and I need to go home," a large man replied gruffly.
Siddharta tilted his head, uninterested. "I wasn't asking for mercy. But I appreciate that you'd normally give it. Still, if you think winning means going home, you're mistaken. You won't regain your life by taking away the lives of others. Freedom is something you need to search for and not kill for."
"And what would a brat like you know? I was promised freedom if I won," the man shot back.
"There's no freedom here," Siddharta said evenly. "We're only entertainment for the nobles. The best way to hurt them is to deny them their show."
"...And how do we do that?" an older man asked.
The others who were present also began to listen.
"We don't fight," Sid told them.
"What?!"
"You can't be serious."
"But I am. What can they do if we refuse?"
"Kill us."
"And if we fight?"
"Well..."
"All but one dies anyway," a young woman finished quietly.
"Exactly. So what's the difference? Are you happy with your life now?" Siddharta asked the big man.
"No. Of course not."
"Exactly. I'd rather die than do anything they want to force me to do. Only I can move myself. Death is better than this. Also, imagine you do get out of here after killing all of us and then somehow manage to get back home and see your child. When he asks you how you managed to get free, will you tell him that you killed other children and elderly to do it?"
"I suppose... you're right," the man muttered.
"So we won't fight."
"We're gonna die."
"Haha, probably."
When the gates opened, instead of tearing into each other, the slaves sat on the ground and played games like old friends. Siddharta had convinced not just his group but others, too. So they sat on the ground and looked away from the nobles, trying to hide their fear of death, while others thought that what they were doing was strange.
"What are they doing?" one of the Nobles asked in confusion.
"Oi, fight already!"
In response to that, Sid stood up and walked forward a bit, addressing everyone. It looked ridiculous when a small child did that, but he already seemed older than he was.
"Dear mentally unstable and snotty men and women of the entitled community. We have decided not to fight today. Thank you."
This caused the Celestial Dragons and the Cipher Pol to look at them flabbergasted. It was amusing while it lasted, until the World Nobles, enraged that their expected spectacle had turned into defiance, stood up in outrage.
"What is this mockery?! They dare sit and not follow my orders?!" one whined, face purple with fury, like a spoilt brat.
"They spit on our authority! Fight each other for my amusement at once!" another shrieked.
"This is not entertainment, this is boring!" a woman cried, fanning herself. "Make them do something!"
"I demand to see them kill each other, now!" a young noble howled, like a howler monkey.
"Cipher Pol! Shoot them! Kill them where they sit!" Amanda's father roared in anger, his voice breaking. "I want every last one of them to scream before they die!"
In their fury, they ordered the Cipher Pol to slaughter everyone, and the masked agents obeyed without hesitation, cutting the rebellious slaves down where they sat. They appeared before the first one and swung their sword, cutting through the slave's neck in one strike. Hearing the gasps, the agents looked around, but then continued. One after the other, to put fear into those who were still alive, and have them follow the commands of the nobles. They wanted to see a fight and carnage, after all.
But something remarkable happened. As they were cut down, the slaves suddenly started to laugh. Seeing the ridiculousness of their situation, they couldn't help themselves. They laughed as they died, glad to finally be free from that miserable life. It was heartwarming in its own grim way, and tears ran down their cheeks as they were killed, understanding that their last action was one of free choice, but they would still never see their families and loved ones again.
At last, Siddharta's turn came. A Cipher Pol towered over him, blade ready. A Cipher Pol towered over me, blade ready.
"Any last words?" he asked.
"The smell here is rancid, the people are ugly and uneducated, the entertainment is awful, and the food you serve the slaves is worse. The food you people eat is rather good, though. Still: One star out of ten—wouldn't recommend."
"Very well," the man said, swinging his sword through the air. Siddharta only smiled. Who would have thought this would be his end? Perhaps he'd get another chance... maybe a second, second try. He smiled brightly as he saw the sword descend, not bothered about death. But death didn't come that day.
"Stop!" a booming voice commanded.
The Cypher Pol froze. In the stands sat a thickset, elderly man with a full white moustache and beard. His white dreadlocks hung beneath a flat black hat. A scar ran diagonally over one eye. He wore a black suit, a dark purple tie, and carried a cane.
"Elder..." someone whispered.
"Don't kill the slave. I'm interested in him. Take him to my island. I'll see him when I arrive," the old man declared.
He looked at Sid, studying him, but found nothing. He narrowed his eyes in contemplation, and then he left without another word. The other Celestial Dragons looked at the man's retreating back and then turned to Sid, who had a strange look on his face.
.
That marked the beginning of Sid's stay on the Elder's island. He later learned that he was a scientist. He claimed that Sid might be a new race, unknown until now.
"So you think I'm a new race? And how does that help you?" Sid asked.
"I'll find out what makes you different. Or rather, the scientists I leave behind will. I don't have the time to bother with the dirt. Make sure you provide results, boy. Otherwise, you'll be useless," he said, walking away. That was the first and last time Sid saw him for five years.
Those years were miserable... or so one might think. For anyone else in Sid's situation, this would have been hell, but he was special.
At the start, he was kept in a cold cell before the experiments. The scientists starved him for days; he could barely move in the small cell. When they finally brought him to the lab, they cut him open without anaesthesia, taking samples from his organs while he remained awake. To their utter surprise, his boundless will kept him from crying out. However, his tolerance for pain grew beyond measure.
A peculiar man visited Sid at first. He carried a sabre and wore his hair like a pencil: long, pale strands bent forward into a ridiculous spike. Arrogant as he was, he tried to break Sid initially, forcing him into fights. He stabbed, cut, and struck Siddharta, but Sid refused to fight back. He refused to be moved, saying that only he could move himself. It was pointless, and his defiance only deepened the man's hatred. He left a week later, leaving Sid alone with the scientists, who were ordered to make it as painful as possible.
...
How foolish they were, thinking that they could leave Sid alone with humans and think that he would be the one who suffers. It didn't take a full week for Sid's words to affect the men and women who were supposed to do cruel experiments on him. The same thing happened as it did on Mary Geoise.
The first scientist started to visit Sid and brought him food and clothes. Then they gave him a bigger cell, more food, better food, and used anaesthetics. Until they all spent time together and lied to the higher-ups about the progress of their research. All the other slaves were eventually freed as well, and if you asked someone who didn't know, they would never guess that it was supposed to be a research island.
That was Sid's life for five full years.