The angry shouts and curses of the crowd still echoed from behind, mingling with the clatter of hard objects hitting the packed earth. Rober, trapped in Linus's strong but clumsy body, ran for his life, the heavy bronze armor clanking with every stride. He had to keep glancing over his shoulder, dodging the debris and stones raining down on him.
Ahead, Alcon, despite wearing similar armor, moved with far greater speed and agility. He wove through the corners of the courtyard, evaded the surging crowd, and disappeared into a narrow, dark alleyway between two buildings.
Rober gritted his teeth, pushed himself to his limits, and tried to keep up. He ducked into the alley just as a few members of the furious mob were about to catch him. The darkness and relative quiet of the alley enveloped him, a temporary reprieve from the fury outside.
He leaned back against the cold, damp stone wall, panting heavily. His chest heaved violently beneath the bronze cuirass. Sweat poured down his face and neck as if he'd been drenched. He reached up and removed the bronze helmet, revealing dark hair plastered to his scalp with perspiration. The stagnant, damp air of the alley, thick with the smell of refuse and sewage, was unpleasant, but far preferable to facing the enraged crowd.
Alcon stood not far away, leaning against the opposite wall, gasping just as hard. His helmet was also off, revealing a face flushed from exertion.
"Cough... cough... Those people are truly vicious" Rober spoke first, his voice still ragged, punctuated by dry coughs. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Alcon scoffed. "Of course they are" he replied, his own voice still a bit breathless.
"They don't have the coin to watch proper fights in the grand arenas or those expensive underground pits. The only entertainment they can afford is watching lowlifes like us beat each other senseless for their amusement. The more boring the fight, the angrier they get for wasting their money."
Alcon walked over and tapped Rober's bronze breastplate lightly, producing a dull clang.
"Ah, don't worry about them. Come on, let's return this gear to the castle armory."
Rober nodded. He had no desire to linger in this filthy alley either. He put the helmet back on, feeling its familiar yet still foreign weight, then followed Alcon deeper into the alley, seeking the path to the armory.
"Hey, Alcon" Rober initiated conversation as they walked "you mentioned grander arenas just now? Are there places like that around here?"
Alcon turned to look at Rober, his expression one of utter surprise, as if Rober had asked something incredibly foolish.
"Linus? What's wrong with you? Did that fight scramble your brains?" He frowned. "In this land of Ethiopia, where would you find any decent arena?"
"The big, spectacular tournaments" Alcon elaborated "only happen in the rich neighboring kingdoms. Those nobles over there have too much money and time, organizing huge competitions year-round, inviting the best warriors from everywhere to compete, all for their extravagant pleasure."
He sighed, continuing "But here in Ethiopia? Just small-time, scrappy fights like the one we just had. Occasionally, some bored old noble like Lord Phylas will organize a few bouts like this for fun or to bet amongst themselves. The fighters are usually low-ranking soldiers or wanderers like us, fighting just to earn a few scraps of silver to get by."
Alcon paused, then, as if remembering something, added "Ah, but I have heard whispers about underground tournaments. Some warriors who lost in the big leagues in the neighboring lands, they flee here and sometimes boast about secret fighting pits, where the fights are even more brutal, and the prize money is much higher. But that's just hearsay, I don't know if it's true or not."
At this point, Alcon turned to look at Rober, his eyes full of curiosity:
"How about you? Do you know anything about those underground tournaments?"
Alcon's question, though casual, unintentionally triggered the Sage System in Rober's mind. Instantly, a massive flood of information about underground arenas, related criminal organizations, and the illegal activities conducted there poured into Rober's consciousness.
The System... still works! Rober was inwardly astonished but quickly composed himself. So, even within this dream, the system could be activated. But why? Could it be... the people in this dream, Alcon, Phylas, the crowd... are they all souls pulled in here, just like me?
This hypothesis sent a slight shiver down Rober's spine but also opened up a new line of thinking. If true, then this dream wasn't just an illusionary space, but a "soul prison" holding many others captive.
But before delving deeper into that thought, Rober needed to answer Alcon's question.
"Yes, Alcon" Rober replied, striving to keep his tone calm, as if he'd known about it all along. "The underground fights you've heard about... they're real."
He paused, looking directly into Alcon's eyes, and asked "Do you know Demas Tavern?"
Alcon nodded immediately.
"Sure! That tavern's famous, especially among wandering warriors." He scratched his head, trying to recall.
"I think... last time I passed by with a friend, it was down some dark alley, near the seaport, maybe."
Rober nodded confirmation.
"That's the one. Demas Tavern is in an alley near the seaport."
He continued, his tone laden with implication "Doesn't it strike you as odd? Why would a tavern be so popular with wandering warriors, men who live by their fists, with no steady work – and yet be located near the seaport?"
He prompted further:
"The seaport is a bustling hub of trade, ships coming and going constantly. It requires a lot of strong laborers for loading cargo, unloading ships. Isn't that an ideal place for people like us to find manual work?"
"And" Rober emphasized "a place as busy as the seaport, with all sorts of people, merchants, sailors, wanderers, criminals... located on the edge of the city, less likely to draw attention... Don't you think that's a perfect location to build an underground arena? A place that's convenient to reach, easy to conceal, and has a ready supply of manpower for the fights?"
Alcon, hearing Rober's analysis, let out an "Oh!" of understanding.
He nodded thoughtfully, conceding "Yeah... you've got a point. It really is an ideal spot..."
But then, skepticism returned to Alcon's face:
"But... even if what you say sounds logical, how can you be sure it's true? How do you know for certain there's an underground arena there?"
Rober couldn't explain. He could only smile and say "I can't explain it to you right now. But I know for certain it exists. And I also know there's a tournament happening there tonight. If you want, we can go check it out together this evening."
Hearing this, Alcon's eyes lit up with excitement. He laughed loudly, clapping Rober hard on the shoulder:
"Alright! It's settled then! Tonight, you and I will go check it out!"
Their conversation ended as they reached the castle armory. It was a large room, located in the basement, with sturdy stone walls and only a single iron door for entry and exit. Inside, the air was cold and smelled of dampness, oil, grease, and metal.
Countless weapons – spears, pikes, swords, shields, bows, crossbows – were neatly arranged on wooden racks lining the walls.
Standing in the middle of the armory was an old man, powerfully built, his physique belying the age etched on his face. He had hair as white as flax, a long beard also white, and a face full of wrinkles, clearly marked by time and battles. His eyes were small but sharp and stern.
Seeing Rober and Alcon enter, the old man spoke in a gruff voice, ordering:
"Strip it all off, leave it on that table. I'll sort it later."
Rober glanced at Alcon, then followed his lead. They successively removed their helmets, cuirasses, and greaves, placing them on a large wooden table along with their shields and swords. The feeling of shedding the heavy armor brought Rober a sense of relief, but also left him feeling somewhat exposed and vulnerable.
After returning all the equipment, Alcon turned to Rober:
"Alright then, Linus. Tonight, I'll come find you, and we'll head to Demas Tavern together."
With that, he waved goodbye and quickly left the armory.
Rober stood there, watching Alcon's retreating figure. He pondered thoughtfully.
"I can't just stick close to Alcon forever. That might make him suspicious, or uncomfortable."
"Perhaps" he thought "I should take a look around this castle area. Who knows, maybe I can find the others, the souls pulled into this dream just like me. Kalis Marry, the butler Sebas, and the members of the search party too..."
With that thought, Rober turned, intending to leave the armory and begin his own search.
But he had barely taken a step when a large hand, strong as a vice, clamped down on his collar from behind, yanking him back.
The gruff, harsh voice of the old armory keeper sounded right beside his ear, heavy with suspicion and warning:
"And where do you think you're going, Linus?"