The barracks always smelled the same. Sweat. Rust. Straw too damp to be called bedding.
Normally, no one looked twice when a fighter returned from the sand. The weak limped in and collapsed. The strong dragged back scraps of meat for the kitchens. No one cared.
But tonight, everyone stared at Uchi Satire.
Not because she had won. Not even because she had dragged her first student back with her, chain still glowing faintly between their wrists.
They stared because she was supposed to be broken — and broken things weren't supposed to stand straighter after a fight.
The boy slept almost immediately, curled in a corner with his thin arms around his knees. His breaths came ragged but steady. The chain binding him to Uchi hummed faintly, alive in a way iron had no business being.
Across the room, two older slaves muttered. Loud enough to be heard.
"She's teaching him," one said, eyes darting toward the boy. "You saw it. That kick wasn't his own."
"Teaching's forbidden," the other spat. "Only trainers teach. Slaves train when told. Anything else gets you killed."
Another voice cut in from the shadows. "Or gets her killed. And him with her."
The words spread like sparks on straw.
Some whispered with envy — why did he get chosen as her student, when others had begged to learn for years?
Some whispered with hope — if she could train one, maybe she could train more.
And some whispered with spite — the nobles would crush her soon enough, and anyone chained to her with it.
Uchi heard them all. She ignored them all.
The boy stirred in his sleep. She tapped the chain lightly, steadying him, as if the sound alone could remind him not to dream of hounds.
High above, past stone ceilings and locked doors, the nobles had their own whispers.
Behind tinted glass, Lord Khaviel leaned forward in his velvet chair. His eyes glowed faintly red, as if a coal lived behind each iris.
"That vow," he murmured. "I saw the chain snap. She's bound herself to compassion."
Across from him, a masked noblewoman waved her fan lazily. "Compassion doesn't win tournaments."
Khaviel smiled thinly. "No. But it wins loyalty. And loyalty is harder to buy than blood."
The others murmured. Some amused. Some uneasy.
Khaviel's gaze sharpened, focusing on Uchi even through walls and distance. His cursed eyes pierced stone the way blades pierced flesh. He saw her chain, saw the faint glow still etched into her skin, saw the boy she guarded.
His smile deepened. "This one will be interesting."
Morning came like it always did in the barracks — too early, too loud, too cruel.
The guards stormed in, boots hammering the stone, whips cracking against metal bars.
"On your feet! All of you!"
Chains rattled. Bodies shuffled upright. The air filled with coughs, grunts, muffled curses.
The boy struggled to stand, collar pulling his head down. Uchi tugged the chain once. "Stand."
He obeyed, legs wobbling, but he obeyed.
The guard sneered when he saw it. "Still alive, brat? Guess the broken one's good for something after all." His whip cracked the air near Uchi's head. She didn't flinch.
"Line up!" the guard barked. "Tournament's been called."
The word dropped like a stone in water. The ripples hit every face in the barracks.
Tournament.
It was supposed to mean freedom. Every slave knew better. The winner never came back to the barracks. Sometimes their name was spoken in whispers, sometimes never again.
It wasn't freedom. It was a test. A culling. A spectacle.
Uchi's jaw tightened. The boy's breathing sped up.
The guard smirked. "Get ready to bleed for them, dogs. Some of you will die. Some of you will wish you had."
The line shuffled forward, pushed by the snap of whips and the weight of chains.
The arena waited.
Banners hung bright against the sand, dripping with colors stolen from blood. Nobles filled the stands, betting slips flashing in their jeweled hands.
The announcer's voice carried like thunder. "Slaves of the lower barracks! Today begins the Tournament of Chains! The last one standing earns freedom!"
The crowd roared. The nobles smiled.
And Uchi, standing chained to her student, felt the hum of the System in her bones.
[ NEW ARC INITIATED: TOURNAMENT OF CHAINS. ]
[ OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE. ]
[ NOTE: FAILURE WILL TERMINATE STUDENT. ]
The boy swallowed hard. "Master…" His voice was barely a whisper. "We can't win this."
Uchi didn't look at him. She kept her eyes on the sand, on the nobles, on the gate where the next enemy waited.
"You'll learn," she said. "That's lesson three."