The chains didn't just weigh her down. They told the truth.
Uchi Satire was dragged through the stone passage like an object, collar sparking faintly whenever she stumbled. The guards didn't look at her face. They didn't have to. To them, she wasn't a fighter. She wasn't even a person. She was a slave.
The tunnel opened into blinding light. A roar crashed down from the stands above, a sea of nobles packed shoulder to shoulder, spilling wine, laughing, screaming for blood. The stench of perfume and sweat mixed with iron dust from the arena floor.
"Send the broken one!" a noble bellowed. His ring caught the sun as he pointed down at her.
"The Beast will crush her in one swing!" another laughed.
"Barely worth feeding! Why waste the meat?"
The crowd howled with agreement.
Broken one. Worthless. Trash. Every word cut the same. No matter how many times she bled in this pit, it was never enough to make them see her as anything else. She wasn't strong enough to win, weak enough to pity, or human enough to matter.
Another slave crouched against the tunnel wall as she passed. His lips moved in a whisper she almost didn't catch: "Die quick. Don't make them mad."
Her jaw tightened. That was all anyone expected of her. To die quick. To be entertainment, not victory. To bleed out quietly so the powerful could laugh.
The collar thrummed against her throat, reminding her where she stood in their order of things. At the bottom. Always at the bottom.
The announcer's voice cracked as he howled into the arena:
"Next match! The broken one versus the Beast of Caltor!"
The gate across the arena ground open with a groan. Breath rolled out first, hot and sour, followed by a body as wide as a house door. The Beast stepped into the light on knuckles scarred by decades of slaughter. Its hide was patched with scales, its teeth jagged like shattered glass, and its eyes burned with dumb, hungry focus.
The crowd surged to its feet. To them, the fight was already over.
Uchi stood alone in the sand, barefoot, collar digging into her neck, wrists bound in rusted iron. She had no weapon. She had no chance.
And yet—something inside her chest pulsed. A presence. A promise. For days it had whispered at the edges of her mind, waiting. Now it spoke.
A line of light split the air before her eyes.
[ SYSTEM ACTIVATION: CANDIDATE IDENTIFIED. ]
[ INITIALIZE? Y/N ]
Her breath caught. Words glowing in midair. They didn't vanish when she blinked.
The Beast growled, claws scraping stone.
"Yes," Uchi whispered.
The world narrowed. The crowd's roar stretched into a single note.
[ WELCOME, UCHI SATIRE. ]
[ SELECT YOUR FIRST VOW. ]
Two options carved themselves into the air:
1) Double your power permanently, but you may never harm an innocent.
2) Gain limitless destructive force for this fight alone, but sacrifice half your remaining lifespan.
Her heart stuttered.
Option two meant survival now, but nothing later. The crowd would cheer, but they'd still call her broken. A monster who burned bright for one fight before being snuffed out. Exactly what they wanted her to be.
Option one was harder. Heavier. To vow restraint when all she'd known was chains and cruelty—it felt like trying to lift a mountain barehanded. But it meant more than survival. It meant choice.
If she picked destruction, she'd die their slave.
If she picked mastery, she could finally live as something else.
Her lips curled into a bloodied smile.
"I'll take the vow that makes me a master… not a monster."
The collar shattered. The cuffs cracked. Chains unraveled link by link, glowing with a steady light—not flashy, not wild, but absolute.
[ VOW ACCEPTED. ]
[ POWER GRANTED. ]
[ CONDITIONS BOUND. ]
The Beast charged.
Uchi moved.
It wasn't speed. It was inevitability. She stepped past the first swing before it landed, chain whipping around to catch its wrist. She shifted, using the Beast's own weight to drag it off balance. The crowd gasped—gasps, for her.
Her knee drove into its ribs. Her heel cracked across its jaw. She wasn't fighting like prey anymore. She was teaching. Every strike said you were wrong about me.
The Beast swung again, a hammer-fist that could have ended her. She caught its momentum, let it overextend, and buried an elbow into the seam between scar and soft flesh. It stumbled. She didn't chase. Patience was ugly, but it paid.
The crowd erupted—not boos, not yet. Curiosity. Shock.
Uchi looped the chain around its collar and yanked, dragging its head down as her knee smashed into its throat. The Beast collapsed, choking. Its chest still moved, barely. She could end it.
She didn't.
Mercy was heavier than death, but she carried it anyway.
The announcer froze mid-sentence, eyes wide. The nobles muttered in outrage. The crowd split—half screaming fury, half chanting her name.
U-chi. U-chi. U-chi.
Her vision blurred. Words crawled across it like veins of fire.
[ VICTORY RECORDED. ]
[ XP AWARDED. ]
[ SHADOW TRIAL: PENDING. ]
The world flipped.
The arena vanished into night. The stands emptied. The sand beneath her feet turned cold and black.
A figure stepped out of the dark.
Her own posture. Her own scar. Her own eyes—except sharper, crueler, smiling with teeth.
"Cute vow," the shadow said. It was her voice, stripped of weight. "Protect innocents. Spare the helpless. Chains wrapped in prettier silk. You think that makes you free?"
Uchi's fists clenched. "Who are you?"
"Your receipt." The shadow spread her arms. "Every vow has a price. Every chain has an owner. Me."
The System pulsed.
[ TRIAL BEGINS. ]
The shadow lunged.