Vergil’s eyes swept across the towering arena walls and immediately caught sight of something deeply alarming.
There were twelve massive iron gates.
From behind every single gate came deep, reverberating growls that sent cold shivers crawling straight down his spine.
Then,
Boom!
The gates burst open simultaneously, raining dust onto the sand.
Twelve massive wolves charged aggressively into the open arena.
Their thick fur was pitch black, absorbing the crystal light.
Their eyes glowed a malevolent, bloody red.
Thick drool hung from their bared maws as they snarled viciously at the gathering.
But Vergil’s trained hunter vision instantly noticed another critical detail.
The incoming wolves were practically skin and bones.
Malnourished.
Severely starved.
They were in the exact same state as the captives had been moments prior.
A grim, clinical understanding immediately formed inside Vergil’s analytical mind.
The captives had just been allowed to eat their fill.
Now, it was officially the wolves’ turn to feed.
Only,
The captives themselves were meant to be the meal.
The wolves immediately scattered across the sand, pinpointing their targets.
Absolute chaos erupted instantly.
Terrified screams echoed everywhere as panicked boys ran desperately across the open sand to avoid the beasts.
Vergil watched as a black wolf leapt onto a nearby boy, sinking its elongated fangs deep into the boy’s forearm.
The boy screamed in pure agony as the predator violently jerked its head from side to side, trying to tear the limb off completely.
Vergil moved instinctively, his body reacting before his thoughts could finish.
Before even fully processing the risk, his legs had already rushed him forward across the sand.
Bang!
His precise kick slammed heavily into the wolf’s exposed ribs, the impact sending it rolling across the dirt with a painful yelp.
The wolf quickly scrambled back onto its four feet, shaking its head.
Growling viciously, its red eyes locked onto Vergil as it immediately lunged through the air toward his throat.
Instead of retreating to dodge, Vergil aggressively charged forward himself to close the distance.
The wolf’s sharp claws tore deeply into his bare arm, drawing blood.
Sharp pain exploded instantly through his nerves.
But Vergil ignored the sensation completely, wrapping both of his arms tightly around the wolf’s muscular neck in a vice grip.
Both bodies crashed heavily onto the hard ground together.
Vergil reacted with fluid martial instincts.
He rolled directly onto his back, using his momentum to drag the thrashing wolf flat atop his chest.
Then, he tightened his chokehold with every ounce of physical strength he possessed.
The black wolf thrashed violently in panic.
It clawed at his chest.
It bit at the air.
It yelped in suffocation.
But prolonged starvation had weakened the beast’s overall stamina severely.
Gradually, its desperate struggles became weaker and weaker.
Then,
Crack.
The wolf’s neck vertebrae snapped cleanly under the pressure.
The black beast finally went completely limp.
The exact moment it died, the remaining adrenaline and strength drained from Vergil’s battered body.
He collapsed sideways beside the furry corpse, gasping heavily for shallow breaths of air.
A hand suddenly patted his uninjured shoulder gently.
“Brother, are you alright?”
Vergil looked up, his vision clearing.
Five young boys stood in a loose circle around him, watching his recovery.
He slowly rolled the heavy wolf’s corpse away from his side before forcing his torso upright.
“Yes,” he answered, catching his breath as he wiped a smear of dirt from his face.
“I’m fine.”
He quickly examined the features of the five boys standing before him.
Right now, building reliable connections within this camp seems highly useful.
He had absolutely no idea how the future gladiatorial tests would operate.
Perhaps they would fight wild beasts again.
Perhaps they would be forced to slaughter each other.
Perhaps they would be divided into teams.
Either way, having capable allies could become incredibly useful later during any escape attempts.
Vergil forced a faint, friendly smile onto his features, softening his sharp aura.
“I’m Vergil.”
The tallest among them, a brown-haired boy with slightly darker skin and broad shoulders, nodded his head first.
“I’m Aaron.”
Next, a pale boy with short black hair standing around Vergil’s height spoke up calmly.
“Basil.”
A significantly shorter boy with light-brown hair raised his hand somewhat awkwardly.
“Maras.”
Beside him stood another black-haired youth roughly matching Maras’s short height.
“Damien.”
Finally, a pale, freckled boy with unruly reddish hair grinned nervously at the group.
“Gregory.”
While they spoke to establish basic rapport, Vergil quietly observed the state of the arena around them.
Dead and mangled boys now littered the bloody, sandy ground.
Most of the black wolves had already been successfully killed by the sheer numbers of the captives.
The remaining few predators were currently being overwhelmed and beaten to death by angry groups of teenagers.
Seeing the volatile situation finally stabilising, the six boys continued speaking quietly together to trade background information.
Vergil quickly learned through their whispers that they all hailed from vastly different, distant regions across the Kingdom of Lume.
Gregory came from the frigid western regions bordering the mysterious Frozen Veil Sea.
According to his description, an endless, magical veil of frozen fog permanently covered the waters there, hiding monsters.
Aaron came from the borders near the infamous Black Forest Region.
From him, Vergil learned that travelling north directly from Rock Hill Town toward the royal capital would eventually be blocked entirely by that massive, untamed Black Forest.
Basil came from the Green Lake Region.
Out of everyone present in their small group, Basil lived geographically closest to Vergil’s old home.
Even then, the journey from Rock Hill Town to the southeastern borders of the Green Lake Region still required roughly a full week of hard riding on horseback.
Maras came from the wealthy Shining Hill Region located along the far eastern borders of the kingdom.
Meanwhile, Damien came from the prestigious Secret Heights Region, located near the capital city itself.
Eventually, the final black wolf collapsed dead onto the sand with a final groan.
A heavy, exhausted silence slowly returned to the wide arena floor.
High above them on the platform, the young golden-haired noble smiled pleasantly, looking over the survivors.
“Those of you still standing alive have officially passed the first test.”
His facial expression remained remarkably warm and welcoming.
But his next spoken words carried an icy, absolute coldness.
“Remember this outcome well for the future.”
“If you fail any future tests in my camp…”
“You will die on this sand.”
A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the surviving captives.
Then suddenly, the young man clapped his hands lightly together again, shifting the grim mood.
“But naturally,” he continued smoothly, his tone pleasant, “those who successfully pass my tests will also receive appropriate rewards.”
“The specific details of those rewards and the daily camp rules will be explained to you tomorrow morning.”
“For now…”
“Follow the guards to your assigned quarters.”
Behind the blood-stained arena floor, another large stone gate slowly and heavily slid open into the dark bedrock.
An armoured guard stepped out from the darkness beyond, holding a lantern.
“Follow me, line up.”
Without another word of explanation, the guard turned around and disappeared back into the dark tunnel.
The surviving captives exchanged uneasy, tired glances.
Then, one after another, the surviving captives quietly fell into line and followed the guard deeper underground.
As they exited the dark arena tunnels, Vergil slowly realised something entirely unexpected.
They were standing inside a town.
A real, sprawling underground town.
He carefully and subtly observed the structural layout of the streets while walking in line.
Construction was still actively ongoing across most of the stone buildings lining the roads.
But what truly caught his clinical attention were the construction workers themselves.
They were definitely not human.
The bizarre creatures possessed rough grey skin, hunched five-foot-tall bodies, predatory wolf-like faces, and long, ape-like limbs.
They effortlessly carried heavy stone blocks and timber wood materials while speaking rapidly to one another in an unfamiliar, guttural language that Vergil had never heard before.
At the exact same time, Vergil noticed another glaring anomaly about the population.
There were absolutely no ordinary, civilian townspeople anywhere to be seen.
Every single man wore a uniform black martial suit and carried visible weapons, such as heavy spears, long iron staffs, or sharp swords sheathed at their waists.
Meanwhile, the women wore crisp white blouses and long red skirts while openly carrying dual swords or heavy daggers.
A newly built, militarised fortress city.
Vergil silently reached a definitive conclusion in his mind.
And our group is probably meant to be part of its future commercial attraction.
The armoured guards eventually led the long line into a massive, isolated compound containing a wide, open dirt training field alongside a multi-story stone building.
There, all thirty-six surviving captives were systematically arranged into neat columns exactly four people wide.
Quietly and efficiently, Vergil counted the rows to assess the numbers.
Exactly nine rows.
Several moments later, a commanding woman emerged from the main entrance of the stone building.
She wore a tight, form-fitting black uniform that flawlessly outlined her curvy figure while walking with a slow, seductive confidence.
Behind her followed an entourage of two women and two men.
The surrounding perimeter guards immediately straightened their posture and bowed their heads deeply.
“Madam Sierra.”
Sierra slowly and deliberately surveyed the assembled captives before speaking in a calm, melodic voice.
“So, these are my newest charges.”
One senior guard standing nearby quickly stepped forward to reply.
“Yes, Madam Sierra.”
“There are exactly thirty-six survivors from the initial wolf trial.”
Sierra nodded slightly, her eyes lingering briefly over the battered youths.
“Before explaining the daily camp rules…”
“I suppose I should heal all of you first.”
Only after hearing the explicit word heal did Vergil suddenly remember the deep wounds torn into his left arm by the wolf earlier.
Looking down at his flank, he saw dark blood still dripping steadily from the large, jagged gashes.
The massive surge of adrenaline and tactical chaos had completely distracted his mind from registering the physical pain.
Then suddenly,
A warm, iridescent golden glow appeared around his bleeding injuries.
Vergil immediately looked up, tracking the source toward Sierra.
She stood passively with one pale palm extended outward toward the crowd.
Floating directly above her hand was a glowing, intricate magic circle filled with countless tiny, rapidly revolving symbols and runes.
Vergil lowered his gaze back down toward his injured arm, fascinated.
The torn muscle fibres visibly and rapidly began knitting themselves back together like writhing threads.
Moments later, fresh, unblemished skin regenerated over the deep wounds completely, leaving no scar.
At the exact same time, Vergil felt a noticeable wave of profound exhaustion instantly spread through his entire body.
Nearby, three severely weakened captives suddenly groaned and collapsed onto their knees in the dirt.
The magical healing process likely consumes the targets’ own remaining internal energy reserves to fuel the rapid cell regeneration.
Sierra lowered her hand calmly, the glowing magic circle dissolving into particles.
“There.”
“All done.”
She nodded in professional satisfaction before continuing her speech.
“Now for the fundamental rules of this compound.”
“Every morning at dawn, a loud horn will sound throughout the area.”
“You will then have exactly five minutes to gather inside this courtyard formation.”
“Furthermore, intentional fighting between yourselves inside the residential building is strictly forbidden.”
Then, Sierra glanced backwards toward the two silent men standing behind her flank.
“A.”
“B.”
“Distribute the keys.”
The two men immediately stepped forward, carrying heavy metal rings laden with bundles of iron keys.
One by one, the quiet captives received their room assignments.
When Vergil’s turn in line finally came, he received a heavy iron key marked with a stamped inscription:
N-25.
Sierra calmly continued, her voice chillingly casual.
“From today onward…”
“The specific number stamped on your key is your official name.”
Instantly, several proud captives in the front rows looked ready to open their mouths to protest the loss of identity.
But right before anyone could utter a single word,
Boom.
A terrifying, immense pressure suddenly descended upon everyone in the compound from above.
It was the exact same overwhelming, gravity-like force used earlier by the old man in the arena.
Drawing breath instantly became an immense struggle.
Several hot-headed captives nearly collapsed flat onto their faces as their knees buckled violently beneath the invisible weight.
Sierra smiled faintly, her eyes completely cold.
“No objections?”
“I thought so.”
Moments later, the terrifying pressure vanished completely into thin air, allowing the youths to gasp for oxygen.
Then, she waved her hand dismissively toward the stone structure.
“Return to your designated rooms immediately.”
“And do not dare come outside unless you hear the morning horn.”
The broken captives immediately began moving toward the entrances in a hurry.
Vergil deliberately and quietly remained toward the middle back of the moving crowd while entering the residential building.
Following the clearly carved signs marked along the stone walls, he eventually located room N-25 on the third floor.
Inside, he discovered a surprisingly decent, clean living space.
It was small.
But it was completely private.
The layout contained:
A sturdy wooden bed frame
A small writing table
An attached personal bathroom
Smooth, blue crystals embedded deeply into the stone ceiling illuminated both the bedroom and bathroom, each controlled by simple mechanical switches near the doors.
Vergil quietly and thoroughly examined every corner of the room.
Honestly…
He actually quite liked the accommodations.
If only he weren’t a forced prisoner, this would be an ideal place to cultivate.
Eventually, he entered the bathroom and thoroughly cleaned the sand and wolf blood from his skin.
Afterwards, he returned to the bed, switched off the blue crystal light, and quietly resumed counting seconds within his focused mind.
Meanwhile, elsewhere within the still unfinished underground town, Sierra entered the massive central tower and climbed all the way toward its open-air roof.
There, the golden-haired young noble and the terrifying old man already waited silently beneath the glowing blue crystal light of the cavern ceiling.
Sierra first nodded respectfully toward the elder before bowing deeply toward the young noble.
“Young Master.”
Almus Hunter looked toward Sierra calmly, the wind rustling his golden hair.
“Sierra,” he said quietly, his voice carrying an immense weight, “my entire future now rests solely in your hands.”
“You must train those captives properly.”
“So that within exactly two years…”
“At least one among them successfully reaches the Star Master Realm.”
Sierra lowered her head slightly, her gaze fixed on the stone floor.
“I will try my absolute best, Young Master.”
Almus’s handsome expression immediately hardened, his jaw tightening.
“Sierra.”
“I do not want you to simply try.”
“I need you to succeed.”
A chilling, desperate coldness entered his sharp green eyes.
“Otherwise…”
“My dear elder brother will never allow me to live past my next birthday.”
The powerful old man standing beside him immediately spoke up, trying to soothe his anxiety.
“Young Master, please don’t say such ominous things.”
“With Master protecting your safety, Young Master Elron would never dare move openly against you within the territory.”
Almus suddenly let out a cold, bitter snort.
“You fundamentally do not understand my elder brother’s malice.”
“For the past five years, he hasn’t refrained from attacking me because Father forbade him, or because he fears Master.”
Almus slowly looked upward toward the glowing cavern ceiling, his eyes reflecting the blue light.
“It’s only because the Elder Council currently controls his cultivation resources and monitors his actions.”
“But once he fully completes the forbidden Dead Hunt Body cultivation method…”
“He will absolutely come for my life, regardless of the consequences.”
The old man silently sighed, a heavy weight in his chest.
A wave of genuine pity filled his aged eyes while looking toward the young noble’s back.
Almus had been born into the prestigious Hunter Family.
One of the true, hidden power structures secretly controlling the vast Kingdom of Luce from the shadows.
But Almus himself was merely an unacknowledged, illegitimate child.
His high-born father had forcefully taken a common woman outside the family lineage long ago.
For the first fifteen years of his life, Almus lived a simple life outside, completely unaware of his noble bloodline, until the Hunter Family eventually discovered his existence and brought him back to the main estate.
From that exact moment onward, his profound suffering inside the family compound began.
He was bullied constantly by his siblings.
Humiliated by the servants.
Despised by his own father.
As a desperate teenager, Almus had even abandoned the family territory temporarily and become a rogue adventurer.
During that free time on the surface, he secretly and passionately helped many common slaves escape captivity to find freedom.
But five years ago, everything shattered.
His brilliant elder brother, Young Master Elron, attempted to kidnap and use Almus as a living sacrifice material to practise a forbidden magic spell.
When the gruesome attempt failed due to a fluke, Elron brutally murdered Almus’s helpless mother in a fit of absolute rage instead.
Yet despite that horrific crime, the Hunter Family leadership punished Elron in no meaningful way, shielding their true heir.
Since that bloody day, Almus had trained frantically, driving his body to the brink of collapse for the sake of revenge.
But after five years of desperate effort, he only managed to raise his singular Skill Seed into the basic Star Seed Realm.
Compared to the monstrous Elron, his innate talent and physical strength remained hopelessly inferior.
Open revenge was completely impossible.
Even baseline survival inside the house seemed impossible.
So eventually, driven to absolute madness by his paranoia, Almus created the desperate Underdark Plan.
And in doing so…
He became the exact, monstrous thing he once hated most during his youth.
A ruthless slave owner.
Sierra lowered her head firmly, her loyalty absolute.
“I won’t allow them to harm you, Young Master.
I will forge a weapon for you.”
Almus’s defensive expression softened slightly at her words.
“I trust your methods completely, Sierra.”
A heavy silence settled briefly across the tower rooftop.
After nearly a full minute of watching the distant construction, Sierra finally spoke again, raising a mechanical flaw in the plan.
“Young Master…”
“I do have one major concern regarding this strategy.”
Almus turned his head to look toward her.
“What is it?”
Sierra inhaled the cold, damp cavern air slowly before speaking carefully.
“If one of these common captives truly manages to break through into the Star Master Realm within only two years of training…”
“Then that individual would possess an extremely high, terrifying potential to eventually reach the Moon Lord Realm later in life.”
“If that scenario happens…”
“We could easily lose absolute control over them, and they might turn on us.”
Even the powerful old man standing beside Almus revealed a look of deep concern at those valid words.
But Almus merely smiled faintly, an eerie calm washing over his features.
“Don’t worry about their future potential.”
“Any slave who successfully reaches Star Master after the two-year mark will immediately be sent away to participate in the high-stakes Gladiator Competition at Mercury City.”
“If they somehow defy all statistical odds and survive that bloodbath…”
“I’ll simply sell them directly to the non-human Underdark races as labourers.”
His handsome smile turned incredibly cold.
“I highly doubt anyone sold deep into the territories of the Underdark races will ever regain their physical freedom or see the surface again.”
Sierra slowly and understandingly nodded her head.
“Understood perfectly.”
“Then I’ll take my leave for the night.”
“I still need to carefully prepare their daily training regimens.”
Almus gave her a slight, validating nod of dismissal.
Meanwhile, back inside the quiet privacy of room N-25, Vergil continued silently counting the intervals of seconds within the deep darkness.
Eventually, after reaching exactly 18,952 seconds of focused meditation, pure physical exhaustion overtook his system, and he fell into a dreamless sleep once more.
Then suddenly,
Bwooooooom,
Vergil’s eyes snapped open instantly in the dark at the sudden, reverberating sound of the morning horn echoing powerfully throughout the underground town.