Today, there was no sound in the arena louder than their ragged breathing.
They were dozens… pale faces, exhausted eyes, and bodies that had failed them before their will ever could.
As for him Elia he sat upon something resembling a miserable throne: rough planks nailed together haphazardly, scraps of torn cloth wrapped around it to grant it a false sense of grandeur. A throne unworthy of a true king, yet sufficient to satisfy his bloated ego.
If it had been in the world he came from… this would have never worked.
There, power required armies, banners, blood spilled in the name of legitimacy.
But here?
Here, his grip alone was enough.
A cold smile crept onto his lips as he whispered within himself, "Damn… this power truly makes me feel great."
Beneath him, they stood in uneven rows, their eyes those eyes held nothing but hatred.
A silent, frozen hatred, burning deep within yet too afraid to surface.
He noticed.
He didn't like those looks.
"I need to deal with this problem soon if I want to expand further…"
His thoughts paused for a moment, then his lips curved into a wider smile.
"But… why not make those looks fall silent for a while?"
He slowly turned his head toward Selina.
She stood beside him, her body stiff, her chest still unnaturally swollen from the rocks forced into her ribcage as a previous punishment. She had tried to remove them… but failed. The pain was evident in the tremor of her breaths, in the pallor that had overtaken her skin.
She hated him.
No… she despised him to her very core.
But she couldn't do anything.
She had never expected him to be this strong. Never imagined that the one she had tried to subjugate… would one day stand above her.
Elia rose from his throne slowly, deliberately, as if savoring the weight of the suffocating silence.
All eyes clung to him.
He approached her.
He stopped right in front of her, so close that only a single broken breath separated them.
He raised his hand… and suddenly grabbed her by the throat.
A muffled gasp escaped her, and a faint murmur spread among the onlookers.
He began to squeeze.
"What…" she tried to speak, but the air betrayed her.
His fingers tightened further.
The veins in her neck bulged, her skin began to turn blue, and her eyes widened in shock mixed with fury.
He looked at her without mercy, without hesitation, as though testing a new toy.
"That look of yours… I don't like it."
He pressed harder.
"Stop looking at me that way. As you can see… you're no longer in charge."
He leaned in closer until his breath nearly touched her trembling lips.
"Or… would you like to lose someone?"
The crowd trembled.
She couldn't answer. Couldn't even cough.
All that remained within her was regret… and a boiling hatred despite the suffocation.
If only she had killed him when she had the chance.
If only she hadn't tried to control him…
If only she had ended him before his shadow spread over them.
"Damn him… I just… I just want to kill him."
Her vision began to fade.
Then suddenly, he released her.
She fell to the ground like discarded trash. Her knees slammed against the stone floor, and she coughed violently, devouring the air like a drowning person dragged out at the last moment. Her hair fell over her face, her breaths coming out harsh and torn.
He didn't look at her.
She no longer deserved even a glance.
His gaze shifted to the others to the "monsters," as he saw them.
His eyes moved among them slowly, searching for the strongest bodies, the broadest shoulders, the arms fit to wield weapons.
His thoughts collided within his mind.
Army.
Order.
Fear.
Expansion.
He suddenly raised his voice.
"You… yes, you there. Come. Stand here before me."
Those he pointed at froze.
A cold shiver spread through their bones like poison. Some began to cry silent tears. Others tried to take a step back… then abandoned the thought before it could fully form.
Run? In his presence?
Death would be kinder.
At last, they stepped forward, their movements heavy, as if being led to slaughter.
Elia raised his weapon high.
They closed their eyes, awaiting the end.
But what they felt was not pain… but a cold weight settling into their hands.
They slowly opened their eyes.
Swords.
Shields.
Real weapons.
"Take them. You will have the most important task."
They exchanged confused glances.
"Hunting," he continued. "Bring us food. And if possible… bring it alive."
He wasn't foolish enough to send them unarmed into the outside, where creatures lurked in the shadows, where the world itself seemed to feed on the weak. No… they were his tools, and his tools had to remain alive.
A satisfied smile appeared on his face.
"Yes… let's just continue like this… until we reach the peak."
No one understood the full picture.
All they knew was that Elia had chosen his warriors.
That the outside was hell.
And that this place despite its cruelty was safer than the dark world beyond the gates.
Then he turned to the rest.
"And you…"
Bodies tensed.
"The days of idleness are over."
He stepped down from the two wooden steps of his throne and began walking among them slowly, the creaking of the floor beneath his feet doubling the tension.
"I want the gates rebuilt. Stronger. More durable."
He stopped, staring directly at one of them.
"Every ruined house… I want it as good as new."
His voice lowered, but its sharpness increased:
"And whoever slacks off… their punishment will be clear."
He didn't need to explain.
Everyone had just witnessed Selina's color change moments ago.
They rushed to work.
Without protest. Without delay.
Wood was lifted, stones were dragged, orders were executed as if they were rusted machines forced back into motion.
As for Selina…
She remained on the ground, supporting herself with a trembling arm. Her eyes despite the tears, despite the pain had not lost that contempt.
She looked at him.
At his straight back.
At his confident steps.
At the man who had stolen her leadership… and stolen their world.
Darkness crept slowly with the fading light, and with it, Elia's shadow stretched over them all.
And within the depths of that shadow… a small seed of rebellion was being planted, in grim silence, waiting for a day that might come… or might be crushed by Elia before it ever sees the light.
…
Daytime was a rare occurrence in this place.
The light itself felt strange, like an unwelcome guest.
Dozens of bodies moved under the sun, unlike usual, as if they feared being exposed before it. The shadows were short, sharp, revealing all the exhaustion accumulated on their faces.
Dozens working together… on a single gate.
The gate.
Wood was lifted, stones were stacked, nails hammered violently as if they were taking revenge on the world with every strike. Sweat mixed with dust, and breaths were rough, short there was no time to rest.
It was a sight not seen for a long time:
Humans moving in broad daylight… not by choice, but for survival.
And outside beyond that gate were the warriors.
The hunt.
They would go out, and not all would return.
Every return was a silent procession of corpses.
The body of a comrade carried on shoulders… and the body of prey not much different from a nightmare made flesh and bone. Twisted limbs, mouths frozen in an eternal scream, lifeless eyes still staring at the sky as if unable to believe they had died.
Sometimes, the corpses did not return to be buried.
But to be used.
They were dragged to the edges of the area, thrown into the open, to become bait.
The stench of decay attracted other creatures…
And every victim, in the end, was nothing more than another lure in an endless chain.
And here…
What Elia truly wanted began.
The warriors returned that day carrying enough.
He rewarded them.
Not a little.
But… a lot.
Roasted meat, rich cuts, doubled portions until their hands and mouths were full.
Short, broken laughter echoed something unheard for a long time.
As for the builders…
Those who had exhausted their backs repairing and rebuilding…
They received "what they deserved," according to Elia.
Smaller portions.
Less.
Barely enough to silence the stomach, not to satisfy it.
And the explosion did not take long.
"Hey, you!!! You took a bigger portion than me!"
The other turned, eyes bloodshot:
"Stop spouting nonsense! The master gave his orders… and I only took my fair share, you bastard!"
The first shoved him with his shoulder.
Shoving.
Teeth grinding.
Then a third voice rose from behind:
"Guys! Why isn't Selina working… yet she gets as much food as we do?!"
Silence fell for a few seconds.
Then the looks ignited.
Hunger is not just pain… it is a poison that corrupts the mind.
Food had become currency in the absence of money.
And whoever controls the food… controls those who remain.
And that was exactly what Elia wanted for all he had done was buy their loyalty.
On the other hand, Selina had not appeared anywhere nearby. While eyes were busy with the argument, she moved silently.
Her steps were light, her head lowered, her gaze cautious.
She passed by those who still had something left in them those whose eyes still flickered with silent anger, not starving envy.
She discreetly extended her hand.
"Just take this… and don't tell anyone. Ever."
A piece of meat.
An extra piece of bread.
Her share.
It wasn't much… but it was a message.
Then she returned to her place… to his shadow.
She stood beside him, as he had declared: "my advisor."
Elia turned to her, a half-smile forming on his face.
"So, Selina… did you like the food?"
He stepped a little closer.
"Or should I stuff it into that mouth of yours?"
Every time she saw his arrogant smile, a wave of disgust washed over her.
How could someone possess all this power… and use it like this?
Even if the world had collapsed, even if the sky had turned black…
Shouldn't he try to survive?
Shouldn't he try to fix things?
Instead… he made life harder, narrower, and darker than it already was.
She bit her lip in silence.
As for him, he watched the small quarrels, the hands clinging to food, the faces insulting each other instead of looking at him.
"Yes… yes… look at those small minds, working only for a bite of food. How amusing."
He wasn't a fool.
If he couldn't make them obey through faith…
He would make them obey through desire.
If they didn't fear him alone…
He would make them fear losing what he gives.
He would give to the minority he chose.
He would make them work more.
They would hate each other.
A silent class system would emerge… the pampered warrior class, and the exhausted worker class.
The former would worship the one who feeds them.
The latter would envy them… then strive to become like them.
And thus, everyone would fight for his approval.
As for his military strength…
It would be most loyal to the one who indulges it.
His thoughts paused for a moment, before his smile widened colder than before.
"And that person… is me."
That evening, it wasn't only darkness that crept over the settlement.
But hatred.
And jealousy.
And greed.
As for Elia, he stood above it all…
Believing he held every string unaware… or perhaps fully aware that strings pulled too tight… snap suddenly.