Chapter 10
Gladiator slave life is more leisurely than you'd think.
I get up early and do odd jobs.
I enter gladiator matches and die.
If I get lucky and live, I sleep soundly, wake up, and go back to odd jobs and gladiator matches.
That's the whole endless loop.
Until I die.
But who am I?
‘A slave under Renoa’s patronage.’
Before that, I was stuck with every kind of menial labor, but after Renoa became my patron, it all vanished.
It was Bardic’s odd sort of consideration—telling me not to waste my energy on useless things and to focus on the matches.
‘Not bad.’
Now I can eat delicious food and train all day. Then I just run one match and I’m done.
For the record, the gladiators stealing my food ended that very day. Bardic must have given them a stern warning.
‘That’s right.’
I should take care of my own slave.
Only now does the world feel like it’s working properly again.
“Hey, get ready. You’re up soon.”
“Yes, sir.”
I prepared for the match and chose my weapon.
Without much hesitation, I grabbed a small one-handed sword that fit my build.
“What’s with you? You’re using a sword instead of that pickaxe?”
“It got wrecked in the last match, so I can’t use it.”
The pickaxe I’d been using by myself had its handle broken in two.
I really had overworked it.
And it wasn’t exactly high quality to begin with.
More than anything, there was a reason I chose a sword.
‘I need to build proficiency.’
[Lowest-Grade Swordsmanship Lv. 3]
I’d only unlocked the lowest-grade swordsmanship proficiency a week ago, and I’d already raised it to level 3.
That was thanks to the [Blessing of Chains] skill I’d recently received, which was doing its job beautifully.
And besides, getting from 0 to 1 is hard; going from 1 to 2 is surprisingly easy.
‘Or maybe it’s just because the rank is so low.’
It’s the lowest grade.
Not just low grade, but the lowest of the low.
‘If I max out the proficiency, will it evolve?’
From lowest grade to low grade.
From low grade to mid grade.
From mid grade to high grade.
Seems plausible.
When you’re low level, leveling up quickly is basically the rule.
I need to grow fast.
That’s the only way I’ll stay alive.
-Clank.
The iron gate opened.
I walked out into the arena.
Notification: Entering the arena.
Slave skill 【Spartacus】 is being applied.
As the skill took effect, vitality welled up in my body as if I’d received a priest’s blessing.
It feels like getting healthier, which is nice, but this is hardly a pleasant moment.
Because I’m being shoved toward certain death.
I hate the booing too.
When I’m fighting, adrenaline kicks in and I focus only on the battle, so I don’t really hear them. But on the way in, I have to hear every word.
Who would like being cursed at and told to die?
I thought I’d just let it all slide again this time, but—
“Leon!”
“Hey, Leon! We’ve been waiting for you!”
Huh, that’s different from usual.
The crowd welcomed me with cheers instead of curses and jeers.
Did they all take drugs or something?
“Show us another heart-pounding match like last time!”
Ah, so that’s it.
A lot of people must have been impressed by the match with the minotaur last time. I’d apparently gained some fans.
Suddenly, I remembered something another gladiator had said.
Cheering is a gladiator’s sustenance.
They say there’s no greater thrill than having everyone in the arena chant your name. Once you’re hooked, you can never escape it.
They say it feels better than sex, and I think I get what they mean.
“Nice.”
It’s so nice to be welcomed warmly. How could I not want to repay that?
‘Renoa….’
She was sitting in the same seat as last time, resting her chin on her hand with a flat, emotionless gaze.
I waved at her, but there was no response.
‘Looks like I’m going to have to bust my ass again.’
***
Today Leon’s opponent was a wolf pack.
A pack of five wolves. They weren’t magical beasts, but they were absolutely not to be underestimated.
A hungry wolf pack’s coordinated attack is more organized than most adventurer parties. They’re even called gladiator meat grinders.
But Leon—who had single-handedly defeated a minotaur, without even using mana—
Wolves were hardly any threat to him. He took them down easily, even with the sword he was using in a real fight for the first time.
“Waaaaaah!”
“That guy’s gotten a lot stronger, hasn’t he? He’s like a completely different person from when we first saw him!”
“Exactly! Watching someone grow is half the fun!”
The stands were full of praise, to the point that what had happened not long ago seemed forgotten. Leon waved, feeling proud of himself.
Especially toward the seat where Renoa was sitting.
“How was it, Lady Renoa? Did you enjoy today’s match?”
Riding the good mood, Bardic asked with quiet anticipation.
“Boring.”
But Renoa, the one who mattered most, answered coldly.
Bardic was flustered.
“Boring?”
“Yes.”
“Um, what part of it didn’t you like?”
“Everything.”
Renoa doesn’t want to see Leon win. Victory is something you can see anywhere.
What she wants to see is a human standing on the brink of life and death, struggling in an ugly frenzy.
In that sense, today’s match was far too bland.
“The opponent was nothing special. You didn’t deliberately pick a weak one just to get my patronage, did you?”
“I-I would never. I was just, as always…”
“Bring me a stronger opponent next time. Someone who could die from one slip-up. If next time is like today, I won’t come again, so remember that.”
***
“—That was what she said, and then she left.”
Bardic called me over separately after the match and relayed Renoa’s words. What I said next was obvious.
“Wow, she’s completely crazy.”
“Watch your mouth! What if someone hears you!”
“Whether I get executed or killed by a magical beast, if I’m going to die anyway, I should at least say what I want to say.”
I must have gone a little crazy there.
“That’s right. She’s that kind of girl.”
What? It’s fine because she’s still young?
Renoa, noona?
Renoa is a god?
There’s no bigger load of crap than that. What kind of lunatic would spout such nonsense?
If you start wagging your tail just because someone gave you a meal, you’re a beast, not a human.
People like that need their freedom taken away.
For the record, that doesn’t apply to me.
I don’t have any freedom anyway because I’m a slave.
In the end, to Renoa, I was nothing more than a toy she could play with.
‘I’ll never trust you again.’
If that’s the case, even if I can win, should I deliberately act weak? My goal is to keep Renoa happy, after all.
Skilled Go players sometimes give a guest a narrow half-point win as a courtesy.
But that kind of finesse still requires skill. Right now, I’m not skilled enough to judge by eye.
No matter what alternative I considered, it all came down to the same conclusion: I had to get stronger.
I went straight to my sparring partner.
Stance training was over on the first day. [Lowest-Grade Swordsmanship] proficiency even corrected my posture. My body knew what the proper stance was.
Even my sparring partner looked inwardly surprised, as if he hadn’t expected me to pick it up so quickly.
Thanks to that, I could move on to the next step. I thought it would be time to practice swinging the sword… but it wasn’t.
“The essence of combat is breathing. People usually breathe with their lungs. But fighters have to be different.”
Today’s lesson was breathing technique. Apparently, swordsmanship changes drastically depending on how you breathe.
I can sort of understand it. You see it often in fiction too, right?
‘Whoa! Total Concentration Breathing!’
And in real life too, marathons and sprints require different breathing patterns.
So I understand the need for it. Every little bit of groundwork like this will someday become a great strength.
I’m not slacking off; I’m doing my best and working hard.
‘The problem is that there’s no progress.’
I’m doing what I’m told, but it still isn’t working.
“Relax your shoulders. Don’t keep your breath in your chest—lower it.”
“Ugh…”
“Don’t pant like a dog. Breathe in through your nose!”
My sparring partner explained earnestly, but I still couldn’t make heads or tails of it.
I wanted him to demonstrate, but unlike a stance, this wasn’t something you could see, so he couldn’t.
‘If I get good at this, will it count as proficiency too?’
Breathing proficiency?
But is it even right to call breathing a proficiency?
-Poke!
“Ghk!”
When my sparring partner jabbed my solar plexus with his staff, the breath I’d barely gathered surged back up.
“Can’t you focus? Should I just call it quits?”
“I am. I am.”
I closed my eyes.
Suddenly, a wave of resentment washed over me.
‘Why do I have to go through this?’
If this were a game, there’d probably be some kind of fortunate encounter too.
Those things are supposed to belong to the protagonist, but wouldn’t it be fine if I snagged one or two?
‘I’ll carry this!’
But I’m a slave who can’t even take a single step outside the arena.
‘And you still think being a slave is good?’
It would have been better if I’d never known. Knowing the information but not being able to use it only makes the sorrow worse.
In the end, I can only build things up properly, one by one.
-Poke!
“Ack!”
“Thinking about random things again?”
What a ghostlike old man. Even if it had only been a few seconds, he didn’t miss the opening and immediately struck my abdomen.
“Since you can’t even focus properly, we’ll stop here for today.”
“What? I have a match coming up soon. That crazy woman said to send out someone who could kill me like a bug.”
“So?”
“So? What do you mean, ‘so’? There might not be a next time. I need to learn this now.”
“Hmm, I see.”
The sparring partner nodded as if that made sense.
But then—
“But it’s not my problem.”
He said it with a truly indifferent expression.
“Not your problem? What kind of irresponsible thing is that? We’re in this together, aren’t we?”
“Why would I be in a shared destiny with you? Didn’t you say yourself that you’d be sorry if you died? Then it’d be a shame if you died.”
“No...”
“Then why did you get targeted? There are plenty of kind nobles in the world. It’s your fault for getting on the radar of someone like that.”
I let out a hollow laugh in disbelief. Now, of all things, I’m being treated like the one at fault.
She’s the daughter of a prestigious ducal family, and I’m just a lowly slave.
Even if Renoa accidentally stabbed me to death with a sword, it would still be my fault for not dodging.
‘The scariest thing here isn’t a mistake—it’s that she might stab me just because she’s bored.’
‘Even scarier is that if I die in one hit, it’ll be considered a good death.’
‘Should I make her lose interest and have her withdraw her patronage?’
I immediately shook my head.
‘No. She said she’d give me my freedom if I live up to her expectations.’
I’ll just grit my teeth and endure until then.
I, Irion, am a man who can make that much effort for a happy ending.
I repeatedly steeled my resolve and entered the next match.
“Leon! Your opponent issss! An ogre!”
An ogre wielding a gigantic axe appeared. Its presence was on par with a minotaur’s.
At a glance, you could tell it wouldn’t be easy.
But there was an even bigger problem.
“Where’s that woman going?”
The one who actually set up this fight wasn’t here. Who exactly am I suffering like this for?
“Woooooaaaaah!”
“Ah.”
You really are an expert at tormenting people.
Just you wait.
notes":"Kept the chapter title as the natural English ‘Never Again’; rendered 공녀님 as ‘Lady Renoa’ for consistency, and preserved the cultural joke in ‘noona’ on line 205. Also smoothed a few awkward phrasings and removed no accidental repeated words."}]}]);} }]}]}}]}]}; જેટી