Prisoner 217
Soren thought of the number coldly, cruelly. No matter what final decision he had to make, he first had to gather information. He needed to understand who this prisoner could be. Whether they were rank 1 or if they could use magic. However, even if they couldn't use magic, they could still be dangerous. They could be in possession of dangerous magical artifacts. Artifacts didn't require the user to be able to use magic themselves. Though their usage was restricted when used by someone with no magical ability
He needed to know in detail who he was going to fight
Even though Soren knew he was feared just for being rank 2, this didn't allow him to remain ignorant. He knew that he was very proficient in his magic usage. But his fighting style still had gaps. There were still flaws in the way he fought due to a lack of experience. Those flaws had proven costly before, often forcing him to resort to drastic measures
He would try to learn about who he was fighting. And even better, if he could identify who this prisoner was before they met in the arena
Something else remained in Soren's mind. It was the fact that there was around a week's gap between his next fight and the current schedule. That thin, twitchy prisoner he had questioned and slashed open had said that larger gaps were normally used for stronger fighters. This meant that his opponent would be strong
This fighter must also be strong or skilled enough to be able to at least fight and contest a win against me otherwise why would they pit a rank 2 like me against someone whose rank is below myself even though I hold a greater advantage. However, even though the power differences between ranks get larger the higher rank you are, the power difference between a rank 1 or 2, whilst it does still exist it is definitely not absolute. Only in the prison where there are restrictions placed on oneself which hinders the power output and also usage of magic is where this power gap is widened even more, so this is why I must be careful
There was also another problem and this was in a prison of around four hundred people, it would be rather hard to gain information on anyone specific. Especially because of the impression he had made. Especially because he was new to this prison
Soren thought through the possibilities available to him
He could question the prisoners out of fear, the way he had before. His presence alone would make them talk. But then again, he didn't want to provoke the two major gangs in the prison. Although they didn't respond to him earlier when he attacked that prisoner. He didn't want to risk constant provocation of them. Not now. Not yet
For now, he wanted to create the illusion that they still held the power and control of the prison. He wanted them to believe that he was just another strong fighter, not a threat to their fundamental authority. That meant being careful. That meant being strategic
So he would find a way to gain information that didn't draw unnecessary attention
The question was how
Soren and Noelle spent the rest of the day in the cafeteria
They didn't move far from the notice board, which had become a kind of anchor point in the massive space. Other prisoners continued to avoid them, creating a bubble of isolation wherever they went. Soren observed the dynamics of the prison during this time. He watched how the Iron Pact members moved together, how they organized themselves. He watched how the Chainhands operated from their blacksmithing area, how they seemed more structured, more purposeful
Noelle spent much of the time in quiet prayer, her lips moving silently, her green eyes closed. When she opened them, she would observe the cafeteria with a calmness that seemed almost detached from the violence and fear that surrounded them
By the time evening came, guards began moving through the cafeteria, directing prisoners back toward the cell block. Soren and Noelle followed the flow, returning to their small cell as night descended on the prison
The next morning, all prisoners seemed to be forced out of their cells into the cafeteria area
It happened without warning. Guards moved through the cell block, shouting commands. Prisoners stumbled out of their cells, most still half-asleep. They were herded like cattle toward the cafeteria, directed through the massive gate that led to the common area
This was clearly routine. The prisoners moved with the practiced efficiency of people who had done this countless times before. Some were alert immediately. Others shuffled along, their eyes still closed, their bodies moving on muscle memory alone
Soren watched as approximately four hundred prisoners were funnelled into the cafeteria. The space, which had seemed large when they first arrived, suddenly felt more contained. Four hundred people in one massive hall created a constant hum of activity and noise
This was the daily routine, Soren realized. Prisoners were kept in cells at night. During the day, they were forced into the communal cafeteria. They stayed there for the majority of the day, engaging in whatever activities were permitted. Eating. Socializing. Working in the blacksmithing area. Training. Recovering from injuries
Only in the evening were they herded back to their cells
It was a system designed to maximize surveillance while maintaining order. Prisoners couldn't plot in secret during the day. Everything happened in the open, under the watchful eyes of guards positioned at various points throughout the hall
But it also meant that information flowed freely. Rumours spread. News travelled. In a space where four hundred people were crammed together for most of the day, secrets were difficult to keep
Soren filed this understanding away
This prison operated on a rhythm. A pattern. Understanding that pattern was the key to navigating it
He sat on one of the benches in the cafeteria, his scarred face drawing the usual reactions of fear and disgust from passing prisoners. Noelle sat beside him, her white and gold armour pristine as always, her expression serene
Soren observed the cafeteria with careful attention
The same small cohort of people always surrounded Garrick, the leader of the Iron Pact. He always had around ten people near him, creating a barrier between himself and the general prison population. Tovin, on the other hand, always remained in the blacksmithing area. The space had become something more than just a workshop. It functioned as a hub. Prisoners would come and go constantly, exchanging goods, requesting work, conducting business. The blacksmithing area was the economic centre of the prison
Every other prisoner had their own groups of people. Some groups were larger, consisting of eight or ten individuals working together. Some groups were small, just one or two people. Some prisoners sat completely alone, isolated or by choice
And goods were exchanged everywhere
The entire prison was essentially its own mini market. Soren began to understand the currency system. It wasn't coin or paper. It was different. Tools that had been crafted or salvaged. Monster ingredients from previous fights. Knowledge. Information. Weapons. These things held value. These things were traded and bartered
A prisoner with a well-made blade could trade it for food or information. Someone with knowledge about the guards' routines could trade that for protection or resources. A monster ingredient could be valuable to someone making a poultice or preparing for a fight
It was a complex economy that functioned entirely within the prison's boundaries
During this day, Soren had stayed quiet
He was still heavily avoided by everyone. And in turn, so was Noelle. Although she hadn't done anything bad. Although she posed no direct threat to the other prisoners. She was avoided simply because she stuck close to Soren. And Soren was now seen by other prisoners as a deranged monster
His scarred face. His sudden violence against the thin blond prisoner. His cold demeanour. All of it combined created an image of someone dangerous and unpredictable
Noelle's association with him had made her equally radioactive
So they sat together in the cafeteria, isolated by the bubble of fear that surrounded them. Soren continued to observe. Continued to analyse. Continued to search for a way to gain information about prisoner 217 without drawing unwanted attention from the gang leaders
The economy of the prison, he realized, might be the key. If he could engage in legitimate trade, if he could interact with prisoners through the normal channels of commerce rather than through intimidation and violence, maybe he could gather information without raising suspicion
It was worth exploring, but the only problem was that Soren had nothing of value to exchange
This was the problem he faced. In an economy based on tools, ingredients, knowledge, and weapons, he had arrived with nothing. No crafted goods. No monster parts. No useful information to trade
So he decided to ask Noelle for ideas it was better to have two brains thinking about the problem rather than just one
"Noelle, how do you think I can find who I am fighting?" he asked. He was direct about it. He didn't want to beat around the bush
Hearing this, Noelle seemed to look up at the monstrously high ceiling of the cafeteria. Her green eyes fixed on something distant, something Soren couldn't see
"In times like this, when I wish to know the answer I don't know," she said slowly, "I ask my goddess to send me a sign"
Hearing this, Soren furrowed what should have been his brows. It was hard to tell because of his scarred face, but his entire expression twisted in frustration. He put both hands in his head, trying not to lose it
''What I mean Noelle is that what should I do right now to get an answer, not whatever the hell you're thinking about. What do you think we should do now? I can ask around. I will probably get answers. However, I don't want to risk provoking any of the major factions"
Soren thought again
I can ask questions though. As long as I don't ask direct matters concerning them, it's fine. But what happens if my opponent is someone with connections here? What if they're affiliated with Garrick or Tovin? Ah, this is all too much
The pressure was building. The week ahead felt simultaneously like an eternity and like no time at all. Too many variables. Too many unknowns. Too many ways this could go wrong