Issen was thrown into a dark room, an Entrapment Spell placed upon his body, locking him in place. Already, he searched for ways to escape, but in this condition, there were few options. He knew nothing of the arena, what would happen when he was sent out, or who exactly had captured him.
And yet, he was prepared to fight.
There was always fear in him before a battle, but he welcomed it. He knew it made him sharper when the moment came.
There had been times when he had come close to breaking, but he had learned that no one would come to save him. Only his spirit could carry him through. Fear, that was the foundation of the spirit. And now, that fear was allowing him to transcend himself.
"Whatever happens next," he said with a faint smile, "I will accept it."
There were others in the darkness. He could sense them. Their bodies, like his, were frozen, though he heard faint movements, shifts, breaths, each one quietly assessing the others.
"Can anyone here talk?" Issen asked.
There was silence.
"Come on," he said. "Don't be shy. I'm in the same position as you."
"Yes," a voice replied at last. "Yes, I can talk."
"You know anything about where we are? What's about to happen?"
"The raiders who captured us, they sold us to an arena. We're going to be sent out to fight."
"And the deal is," another voice added, "if you win enough matches, you become the champion of the arena."
"And then what?" Issen asked.
"The best champions are brought before the emperor."
"Yes, and then?" Issen pressed.
"I don't know."
"Ugh. Well, that's not very helpful."
"It's all we were able to learn."
"Learn? You mean you're all together?"
"Yes."
"Who are you people?"
"We are not from this dimension. In another place, we belong to a group known as the Shadow Cla—"
"No!" Issen groaned. "No! Not the Shadow Clan! Goddamn it. Even in a different dimension, I keep running into you lot."
"You've heard of us?"
"I'm tired of hearing about you. Every time I do, it brings trouble. I thought at least here I'd be free of it."
"The Dream Dimension is where the Shadow Clan comes to hide, to exchange ideas and resources. It lies outside the Lords' jurisdiction. They cannot enslave us here."
"And yet here you are," Issen said dryly, "just as trapped as anywhere else."
"That isn't true. If you understood what we meant, you would see that the Lords enslave people in a different way."
"Sounds like philosophical nonsense to me."
"You're not from the Cities, are you?"
"No."
"If you visited, you would see nothing unusual. People appear to live happy, ordinary lives. There are no visible chains. And yet, all of them are slaves."
As Issen listened, he scanned the room again, searching for any weakness, any flaw he could exploit. There was none. Worse still, he could sense several Second Tier presences nearby. The structure itself carried the weight of a Third Tier design. Fighting his way out was not an option.
"Then how do you know they're slaves?" he asked.
"Through their energy. Study it, and you will see, it all flows toward a single will."
"The Lords."
"Yes. It is their greatest creation. The businesses, the education, the religions, the systems of thought, all of it is part of the structure they built."
"Let me guess," Issen said with a laugh. "You think business itself is evil? Sounds like you people haven't starved enough. Too much time thinking in your academies."
"There is nothing inherently immoral about business. Many of these systems began with noble intentions. But they grew. And the moment something seeks to sustain itself, it becomes part of the system."
"I don't care about any of this," Issen said. "I just want some gold and a quiet life. That's it."
"And that is exactly how it works. The greatest scheme of the Alchemists and the Lords was to build a civilisation around gold. It ensures that a person's value is measured by the energy they produce, and therefore, they can be controlled."
"Where did you live before this?" the voice asked.
"The Eastern Forests."
"And before that?"
"The underground dwellings."
"In those places, people trade through barter, don't they? That's the only life you've known."
Issen nodded in the darkness.
"Then you lived by the wisdom of the ancients. They believed no man should possess more than a certain amount. In barter, this is natural. But with gold, everything changes."
"You're saying gold itself is a tool of control?"
"Yes. And with Gold Spells, the ability to borrow and generate wealth under obligation, the natural order is broken entirely.
When an Alchemist is asked to lend gold, they hand out a Gold Spell instead. The Spell in the recipient's hands combined with their own gold means that they have doubled what they have. In theory, this could create infinite wealth, and that is why the circumstances of poverty and inequality are created, to create the illusion that gold is valuable so that you will work for it."
"It is all fake? All of it?"
"And if there is too much gold, it is destroyed to create scarcity."
"So that means that there is no value in gold at all."
"None at all. The real value is the work we do. The Lords created a system where wealth can grow endlessly for their benefit, while ordinary people become the fuel that sustains it."
"Think about it," the voice continued. "Everything is exchanged for gold. Even power, even the ability to gain new abilities, is tied to it. Gold gives meaning to labour, to status, to identity. People become addicted to it. They measure their worth through it."
Issen listened in silence.
"The system teaches that those who struggle more will rise higher. And those who rise higher will be happier. So people accept suffering, believing it leads somewhere. But all of it serves the Lords."
"Then what's their goal?" Issen asked. "What are they trying to achieve?"
A door creaked open.
"No more talking," a distant voice ordered. "The first fight in the arena will begin soon."