Chapter 4: the system.
A few days later.
Derek took it upon himself that it was his fault for that not telling Simeon the rules of being a slave earlier that day. So he tried to make it up to Simeon. He helped Simeon to do his work, giving himself extra workload. But he didn't minded, because he always helps old men and women when there were too tired to work.
In his free time, he would go and meet Simeon and try to talk to him. But Simeon never replied, he didn't agreed to eat anything, talk, or even cry like other sad people usually would do. He just sat down like a lifeless person.
There was something new Derek noticed, Simeon eyes were emotionless, it was more like he was lost his goal, his purpose--- it was more like he has lost his humanity.
One of the days where Derek was trying to beg Simeon to eat he said. "Look you are not the only that has felt pain l---, ".
"Why can't you just shut up and leave me be? ", Simeon said something for the first time in three days. "You don't even know me. ".
"But at least I'm willing to. ", Derek replied.
But Simeon did not said anything again.
After a while Simeon agreed to eat, when he almost passed out due to the intense pain of hunger. But of course the breads Derek have been saving over the days was not enough for full grown up hungry man, Simeon was still starving.
_ _ _
The slaves were rounded up as the sun rose behind the grim walls of the compound. The guild enforcers barked orders, forcing everyone into a straight line. The air was thick with exhaustion. Bones ached, stomachs grumbled, and the taste of iron from yesterday's beatings still lingered in their mouths.
The morning meal was the same every day—stale, dry bread. Barely enough to keep a person alive, let alone someone recovering from the intense workload every slave has. A small loaf was dropped into the hands of each slave, as if they were animals being fed scraps. No water, no kindness. Just routine.
Simeon stood quietly in the line, receiving his piece without a word. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd instinctively. He wasn't interested in the food; his mind was elsewhere. Battle, survival, vengeance. That was all he could think about. But something pulled him from his thoughts—Derek.
The young man beside him was trembling, his lips dry and his hands shaking as he tried to steady his grip on the bread. But his hands were empty.
"I... I dropped mine earlier," Derek muttered. Simeon glanced at him, then down at the bread in his hand. Without a word, he handed it over. Derek hesitated at first, then took it with wide, grateful eyes.
"Thanks..." he whispered.
Simeon said nothing. He didn't eat much these days. Hunger was a dull pain, far less important than the fire burning in his chest.
As they stood in silence, a sudden commotion drew their attention. Near the edge of the group, a slave—a female was cornered by another man. The attacker was tall, broad-shouldered, and clearly stronger than the rest. He shoved her hard, snatching her bread.
"Give it here! Weaklings don't get to eat," he growled.
She tried to fight back, but it was no use. He struck her, and she fell to the ground. Several slaves turned away. No one dared step in.
Derek clenched his fists. "Simeon, we should help her."
Simeon didn't move. His cold eyes stayed locked on the scene for a moment longer before he turned his back.
"No."
Derek stared at him, shocked. "But she'll—"
"She's not my problem," Simeon replied, his tone flat with no tint of emotion. "If she can't protect herself now, she'll die eventually, ".
Simeon felt like he lost everything he had in a single day, even when he was very strong. Then how will the weak survives, besides there was a popular that states that "what will not kill someone, will only make the person stronger, ".
The girl whimpered as she was kicked again, curling into a ball to shield herself.
Derek looked away, swallowing his frustration. Moments later, heavy boots echoed against the stone floor. Barry, the boss, entered the yard with two enforcers behind him. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd, and the noise died instantly.
"You lot look bored," he said with a smirk. "Since you're all so full of energy, I've decided today's a good day for sport."
Murmurs spread through the slaves. Sport never meant anything good.
Barry raised a hand. "We're setting up a fighting ring. One-on-one. Slave against slave. You win, you will be given a nice meal. You lose... well, maybe someone'll drag you away."
A few of the guards chuckled in excitement.
"Winner gets extra food and rest time. Maybe even a reward, if I feel generous enough," Barry continued. "It's voluntary... for now."
He turned and began to walk away, but paused.
"Oh—and no killing. But if someone loses a tooth or two, I won't care. ".
As he left, the slaves looked at each other in silence. Some were eager. Some afraid. A few, like Simeon, remained unreadable--- mysteries.
Derek leaned toward him. "Are you going to fight?"
Simeon didn't answer right away. His eyes were on the girl, still trembling on the ground.
"Maybe," he said quietly. "But not for food."
Then he turned and walked away, his mind already calculating.
"Then for what? ", Derek thought with a eyebrow raised in total confusion.
The fighting ring was settled, rich, popular men, and some politicians were there too. Betting on the head of the slaves.
"So who is going to be the first player. ", a guild asked.
The man that bullied that girl earlier walked out.
He was named Jarak, in terms of appearance he was 6 feet tall, white cute for a slave, a darkened skin, six parks.
I'll take the first shot," he grunted, pointing to one of the smaller slaves. "Let's make this fun."
The fight wasn't fun. It was brutal.
Jarak moved like a hammer—each punch thundered into the smaller man's ribs, sending him to the ground in under a minute. There was no restraint, no sportsmanship. Just violence. When the enforcers pulled the unconscious man away, Jarak raised his arms and shouted, "Next!"
Another stepped forward, hoping maybe numbers or agility would help. But Jarak crushed him too. And another after that.
Three victories in a row.
The men who placed bets against cursed as there lost their money.
Cheers came—not of admiration, but of fear. Even among slaves, power spoke louder than morality. The enforcers watched with amusement. Barry stood in the shade, arms folded, enjoying his little arena.
Simeon said nothing. He sat on a stone ledge, watching with cold detachment. Derek leaned close to him.
"You're going to fight him, right?"
Simeon's eyes never left the ring. "Eventually."
Derek frowned. "He'll hurt more people."
"That's what I want."
Derek blinked. "What?"
"Let him get confident. Let him feel untouchable. That's when they fall the hardest."
Just as Simeon finished speaking, a fourth challenger fell to Jarak's crushing elbow, his nose broken and blood pouring. Jarak spat in the dirt and banged his chest. "Who's next?! Come on! Bunch of weaklings!"
Nobody came out, there all knew that he was just too strong. That's when Simeon stood.
At first, no one noticed. But then Derek gasped, and whispers spread. As Simeon stepped toward the ring, the sun caught the sharp outline of his face. Despite the grime, the bruises, and his slave clothes, he walked like a king—shoulders relaxed, eyes half-lidded, as if boredom was more dangerous than rage.
Jarak grinned. "Finally. Pretty boy thinks he's got guts."
Simeon said nothing. He stepped into the ring. His face blank, unreadable.
Everyone placed a lot of money on Jarak instantly. There all knew that he was very strong. He was big while his opponent Simeon was barely not considered short. Jarak was like a giant compelled to Simeon.
The moment they stood across from each other, the mood changed. Even the enforcers leaned in. The other slaves gathered close, drawn by something they couldn't explain.
The silence was broken by Barry's voice. "Begin."
As Simeon stepped into the ring. Something unexpected happened.
A screen appeared right in front of him.
[Quest deflect opponent ]
[Reward: 100 Exp ]
Unknowingly to Simeon, he had just unlocked the system which the devil had inputted in him.
Power can only be given for free, you must work for it.