Leaving Ash in his cell, the bearded guard began heading for his position. Walking, he inspected the other cells and made a head count of the prisoners.
'Tsk! I lost too much today... How did the cultist defeat that soldier...'
Being a guard, he had access to insider information about the Colosseum's participants. Confident in that knowledge, he had hoped to make a little extra money by placing a hefty bet against the cultist.
But against all odds, the man emerged victorious.
'Sigh! Should I quit gambling...' His wife had been nagging him all this time, and he was considering dropping it, but a gleam of hope was always there in his eyes.
'Let's make it big in tomorrow's match, and then I can quit. I, at the very least, have to recover my losses.'
Clicking his tongue, he moved his hand toward his waist out of habit. There, along with the keys, a small purse was present. The clink of coins brought peace to his ears.
Soon, he reached his assigned guarding spot and remained there doing his duty. Hours passed in boredom when, suddenly, a man appeared.
The bearded guard frowned, seeing an unknown man this deep, but seeing the crimson order's insignia above his chest, he calmed down.
"Follow me." Without providing any context, the unknown man demanded.
"Huh?... Why?"
"Sir Monarick is calling you."
Hearing the name, the guard nodded his head and followed the unknown man.
'Hmm! Did I do something wrong?' His mind assumed the worst because he knew that if not for accompanying the prisoners, the colosseum host rarely bothered anyone.
"Ahmm! Can I ask the reason?"
"I don't know." The man replied without a pause.
Soon they reached the Monarick's office. Standing beside the door, the man knocked on the door before telling him to enter.
Whipping the sweat off his face, the guard entered the room and looked around. Sitting on a chair, with his legs on the table, Monarick was reading some letters.
"Hilbert, I assume.." Putting down the letters, Monarick lifted his head and asked the bearded guard.
Nodding his head, Hilbert asked politely, "How can I help you, sir?"
"Nothing much. I have a favor to ask, Hilbert." Saying this, Monarick reached for the drawer under his table.
"Of course. Anything, sir."
Hilbert agreed, or more importantly, he didn't have any options but to agree. In front of one of the strongest seekers, what did he, a mortal, hope to achieve anyway?
Hilbert saw as Monarick brought out a small vial filled with crimson liquid. Presenting it to Hilbert, he asked,
"Do you know what this is?"
Hilbert had an idea, but he feigned ignorance.
"It's the blood of a troll. It has high healing capabilities... if ingested in a high amount, it can be used for regeneration as well…"
'...and it can corrupt if ingested by mortals.'
Obviously, Hilbert didn't voice his opinion and silently listened to the words of the Colosseum's host.
"... I want you to give this to the cultist who participated in today's match."
Hearing this, a hint of greed appeared in Hilbert's eyes, but seeing a frown upon Monarick's face, he quickly dropped his head.
"I know that you are selling the food provided for the prisoners. Huh! A man needs to earn for his family… I get it… But don't think of anything else. I say it, and I want it done. Nothing else. Understand?"
Shaking, Hilbert nodded his head, "Of course, sir. There won't be any problem."
Hearing this, Monarick's mood shifted, a smile blooming over his face, "Now that's what I want to hear. Go and quickly deliver the vial."
Nodding, Hilbert quickly excused himself from the room and began moving toward the prison once again. Along the way, he saw the crimson reflection along the surface of the vial as he couldn't help but gulp.
'Imagine how much I can fetch for this on the black market. Can I run away from here with that amount?' Hilbert's thoughts spiraled out of control, but he quickly reined them in.
Sighing, he reached the cell and hit the steel bars to get the attention of the prisoners. Finding his target sleeping beside the giant, he shouted, "Hey.. you."
The prisoner awoke from his sleep and turned toward him.
"Yes… you. This is for you. Monarick… the host has sent this for you. It is good for healing."
Hilbert's hand trembled as he gave the precious bottle to the prisoner. Seeing him down the bottle in a single gulp, he gritted his teeth and moved away. He had walked just a few steps when someone called him.
"S-sir… someone is dead."
'Dead? But no one else fought today.'
Confused, he turned his head around and saw one of the cultists pointing toward a man sleeping in the corner.
The candle barely illuminated the prison, making it difficult for him to see the situation.
"You better not be pulling some prank…"
Already frustrated, Hilbert entered the cell and inspected the corpse closely. The cultist was right; the prisoner was as dead as he could be.
"Tsk! Now, how did he die…"
Mumbling to himself, he quickly dragged the prisoner out of the cell and inspected him for any sign of struggle. There were multiple wounds on his body, but all of them were old.
He couldn't find anything suspicious on him.
'Ahh! A whole lot of work…'
Lifting the corpse on his shoulder, he was about to move the body away when he heard someone's trembling words.
"These cultists… they cursed the prison. Because of them…"
'Ahh, man… these fuckers and their stories…'
Mumbling to himself, Hilbert frowned and moved away. Throwing the corpse in the morgue, he notified the office of the prisoner's death and went to his quarters.
A few hours later, it was time for the distribution of food, so Hilbert once again moved toward the prison.
'Let's lay low for a few days…'
Hilbert took Monarick's words as a warning and decided to give everyone their share of food. He wouldn't put any restrictions for a few days as well.
Hilbert was halfway to his destination when something felt wrong. He suddenly heard someone sobbing in the far distance.
'Why are they crying…'
Pondering, he increased his pace only to find that the candle illuminating the cell had burnt out somehow.
Sob sob!
Hearing the prisoners crying along with some mumbling, Hilbert felt the hairs standing on their end. Putting the dishes on the ground, he moved to ignite the candle.
As the light illuminated the darkness, he found some of the prisoners forming a circle, weeping while looking down at something.
'Did something possess them…' Hilbert thought, getting cold, seeing the strange scene.
Finding all the cultists sitting around the giant, Hilbert cleared his throat and asked, "H-Hey… what happened?"
"Someone died…"
The reply made him furrow his brows. A death wasn't uncommon, but the recent frequency was too much, especially when the fighting wasn't continuing.
"Everyone move out and face the bars…"
Giving them orders, Hilbert entered the prison with trembling steps and moved the corpse out before doing anything. Quickly locking the gate, he hung the keys around his waist and inspected the body.
Once again, there was no sign of any struggle or anything.
'Did a curse really permeate the cell?'
A doubt crept into his mind, but he quickly pushed it away and moved toward the morgue.
Hilbert didn't notice it, but as he moved away, the candle was snuffed out on its own.
***
'What could've happened…'
Pacing back and forth, no matter how much he tried, Hilbert couldn't remove the thought from his head.
'By the gods… don't curse this place..'
Not wanting to get caught in the midst of some curse, he moved toward the cell.
Sob! Sob!...
The sound of someone crying entered his ears, and Hilbert almost turned around.
'Another death!?…'