WOSE Chapter 39

3. Our One (Woori)

Inside the iron cage where not a single ray of sunlight reached, the boy drew ragged breaths.

The musty smell of mold, the metallic tang of iron and blood, and the terrible stench of sweat stabbed through the lining of his nose like knives.

Even with his dulled sense of smell, the intense stimulus made him gag.

The violent assault didn't end there.

Nameless insects crawled across moss-covered stone walls, and from a ceiling too low to stand upright under, cold water droplets fell. Drip, drip.

The boy hunched his back, pinched his nose, and squeezed his eyes shut, but he couldn't escape this terror.

The sound of chains dragging, the breathing of a beast on the verge of death, the howling of an unknown man—those horrifying sounds, sounds!

Finally unable to endure, the boy's shoulders trembled slightly. He was afraid. Of the reality he was enduring now, of the terrible future he would have to endure—every element that kept branding these things into his mind terrified him so much that maintaining his sanity became difficult.

Then—clang, clang! The handler struck the iron bars with a metal rod. And pointed at the boy.

"1096, come out."

His heart plummeted.

The gladiators who had been treated to white, soft bread instead of bread pieces like rocks, and even soup with small bits of meat, were called like this within a few days. And they returned as corpses, or missing one or two limbs.

He'd sensed this moment coming since the white bread started being distributed. But he'd hoped every single day it would be tomorrow instead.

When the boy hesitated, a harsh order flew at him immediately.

"Move, now!"

Before he could be struck in the ribs, the boy shuffled after them.

The handler tossed him armor that didn't even fit and a weapon as tall as the boy himself, then drove him somewhere once he'd clumsily put everything on.

"Wh-where is this..."

Clunk!

Before he could finish speaking, the floor beneath his feet began to move, and soon fresh air and light poured in. The world, bleached white by the sudden brightness, gradually regained its color.

And the scene he faced was...

"WAAAAH!"

"Fight! Win!"

"Kill them all!"

Thunderous cheers poured down. His soul drained, the boy frantically looked around.

A vast arena with its floor cracked in places, the spectator seats surrounding him. And filling those seats, thousands of people watching him with keen interest.

Beyond the endless waves of spectators, the boy looked up at the sky for the first time in ages. He knew it was only artificially created, but he'd longed for this blueness again and again.

But his position was not that free sky—it was beneath the ground below it.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for waiting! On one side, an armed gladiator with no experience! On the other, a beast that has lost its reason! Aren't you curious whether the gods will grant a miracle to that pitiful gladiator?"

On the opposite side, a colleague transformed into an animal by drugs was drooling as he tracked him.

'When we get out of here, I'm gonna drink a cold beer! I'll buy you one too—no, two!'

'...I've never tried it.'

'What? Never? Hahaha, you really are a rookie! Don't worry! This big brother will teach you what good booze tastes like!'

Even in that dim underground, he'd believed in a bright future without doubt.

He must have known, really, that the only way to leave this place was as a corpse.

...Perhaps even this kind of end.

"H-hey, snap out of it!"

His voice trembled pathetically, more from fear than sorrow.

'How do you shake off fear? ...Give up the thought of wanting to live.'

When he'd once asked the gladiator who'd survived longest in this colosseum how to overcome fear, that answer had come back.

'But mister, what if you still want to live?'

The boy truly didn't want to kill his colleague. But he desired something even more desperately.

'I want to live.'

"Now, only one will survive—who will it be until the very end!"

He gripped the spear so tightly his hands turned white. Ridiculous and miserable as it was, he would roll around, flee, and try to harm his opponent until he was covered in blood, just as those spectators wanted.

To survive.

"The blood battle begins now!"

The moment the chains binding the beast that had lost its reason loosened, his opponent lunged with a body the size of a house. Facing those sharp teeth and claws, the boy realized it instantly.

He couldn't win. He wouldn't survive.

His opponent had been a feline beastfolk to begin with. Starved and drugged, he wouldn't stop until he'd chewed and swallowed him.

They'd given him all sorts of vicious weapons, but it meant his chances of winning were absolutely zero.

The boy swung his spear futilely and laughed with a badly twisted face.

He'd always prayed to the gods for survival, but in truth, he didn't believe in them. More precisely, he didn't believe his worthless prayers could reach the gods.

But if, as a priest had once told him, the gods loved their creations without discrimination. If that hadn't been empty words meant for a child born lowly, then please.

The boy desperately wished one last time.

For this damned world to be destroyed. Along with those horrifying beings watching his tragedy with glittering eyes.

And in that moment, the arena floor began to shake.

What greeted Iyu's party just as they left Nidavellir was none other than holy knights.

"We have been assigned to assist with the remainder of your journey on Lady Freya's orders."

Iyu looked down with displeasure at the holy knight kneeling at her feet.

Given Kelgrida's absence and the dangerous incident before, they'd apparently supplemented the personnel, but it wasn't a particularly welcome decision.

"...Lord Hundredth White Branch is accompanying us, yet you've assigned additional holy knights. I'm concerned this might disrupt the Holy Knights' duties on my account."

"You need not worry about that."

The celestials she'd dealt with—meaning the priests—had all been compassionate and gentle. But the holy knights were just as stiff as their superior.

Having finished their obligatory greeting—or more precisely, notification—the knights bowed once more and immediately headed toward Odynne.

Watching them speak freely together, they seemed to be his close subordinates, but they showed no signs of being glad to see each other, only exchanging businesslike situation reports.

She stole a glance at Odynne speaking expressionlessly, and their eyes suddenly met.

After that incident, looking directly at him had become difficult, so she'd conspicuously avoided him throughout their travels, staying holed up in the carriage. Since Odynne didn't approach carelessly either, she'd guessed he must be terribly disappointed in her.

But for some reason, he approached her along with his subordinates. Before Iyu, who defensively pulled Tamia close, Odynne spoke.

"I understand my subordinates did not seek your permission for this escort."

"...Well, it's a decision from above."

"If the escort is unwelcome, I will send them back immediately."

"What?"

At the unexpectedly radical option, Iyu reflexively lifted her head.

She wasn't the only one flustered. The holy knights, and even Kalix nearby, showed intense reactions.

"Sending them back—perhaps you should reconsider. As we informed you in Nidavellir, it's certain that Ragnarok is targeting Iyu."

Based on the degree of damage to the corpse and the remaining magic, Kalix had concluded that Ragnarok was involved in Ulrik's death.

He seemed to think this sudden approach and appearance was a warning directed at the Savior.

"I'm embarrassed we couldn't fulfill our duty, but more hands will mean protecting Iyu more certainly."

'Certainly. Better to endure some discomfort than encounter that man again. I was nearly kidnapped in my past life.'

Though she wasn't pleased with the greatly increased number of celestials, Iyu eventually agreed.

"I'll allow it."

'...Though I don't know if they can actually stop that man.'

Thus peacefully expanded, the party continued their journey.

Unlike Asgard and Nidavellir, which were separated by a great distance from the World Tree's branches to its roots, Yotunheim was a world fairly close to Nidavellir.

Passing through Yggdrasil's portal in the void of nothingness, they entered Yotunheim before long.

Yotunheim was a world near Yggdrasil's roots where primordial nature remained alive.

A sky where lightning struck dozens of times even in a short period, frozen ground, harsh canyons, and storms that swept through constantly.

No living creature could survive bare-bodied in this terrifying nature.

If not for the 'Great Veil.'