Hector clicked his tongue as he glanced around.
"What the fuck are they gonna do with me?" he muttered, eyes fixed on the broad yard in front of him and the other prisoners.
He guessed a fight might be coming… or maybe not.
His suspicion was understandable.
This yard reeked of death — the bold, heavy scent clung to the air like an omen.
It was obvious the place had been used for something terrible… something he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Standing on the floor of the yard was a figure that looked familiar — someone Hector had seen many times before.
Tom.
But this time was different.
He wore a suit of black, old armor instead of the Academy uniform Hector remembered.
He gazed at everyone in the yard with a mocking eye, then shouted loudly for all to hear.
"Fucking prisoners! All of you will fight to the death!"
"You! Come here!" Tom pointed at Hector, his gesture a clear command that couldn't be refused by anyone in this place.
