Michael was shoved into the dark room with the rest of the prisoners. He turned around, watching the guard that promised his freedom release the contraption.
The gate slammed down hard, even shaking the ground and raining the room with loose debris. They tossed the torch inside and waved goodbye to everyone else, then that was it.
The prisoner that argued back on the ride grabbed the torch. His face was scarred and callous. He even looked like the textbook definition of a criminal.
"Wait!" he shouted. "Our chains, you haven't given us the key!"
"There was no key!" the guard shouted back. "Figure it out yourself!"
The prisoner shouted back, words that Michael refused to translate. He banged against the gate over and over with his raging voice. Until there was silence again, with nobody else having the nerve to utter a response.
He turned around like a feral animal, panting while holding the only torch that illuminated the room.
"What happens now?" someone else said. "We eat each other alive?"
Michael soon realized he was trapped with a room filled with criminals. To whatever horrible acts they've done, Michael felt like he was the first one to be eaten.
"I'm not fuckin' dying here," the mad prisoner said. "I'm getting out alive."
"Woah!" the prisoner chained to him said. "Stop—hey, you're tugging too hard!"
"I don't care!"
The mad prisoner waved the torch around the room. They were in some sort of armory, just seeing the rusted weapons on the ground. Charred racks were broken and the walls were streaked with what looked to be ash. Whoever was here before, left their mark before they left. Broken swords and hilts, bows without any arrows, and other beaten tools anyone would find in a farm.
Was this a competition of death, Michael asked himself, were the guards asking them to kill each other?
The mad prisoner picked up half of an axe, slamming it over and over the chains on his leg. Each prisoner was chained with one other around their ankles so none of them had the luxury of free movement. Except Michael.
The mad prisoner looked at Michael. "You—come here, now."
Michael felt his face drop.
"I said, come here!"
Michael walked towards him as the other prisoners watched.
"Hold this, straighten it up and pull it away from me."
Michael held the chain like he asked. The other prisoner that was attached, kept wincing every time the mad one hacked the chain over and over. It was just a few inches away but their feet could have been chopped clean. That's if the axe was even sharp enough to cut through their bone.
After grunt, after grunt, and the sound of metal clanging through the room, his chains finally flew off. A loud deep and triumphant bellow was what came after. He stretched his arms and legs then looked at the other prisoners.
They were scared. Somebody of his stature was now free and had the weapon in his hand.
"I won't kill you, fools," he dropped the half-axe and grabbed the torch. "If I'm going to make it outta' this alive, I need you all fighting for me."
Another prisoner in the back was already in the process of breaking his chains.
"Can we go around, telling everybody else your names?" the mad prisoner asked. "I can go first. You people can call me, Regan."
"Regan," someone said. "I heard about you."
"And who are you?"
"Pio, I assassinated a noble."
Regan smirked. "Not bad."
Another prisoner raised his hand, the one that was chained with Regan. "I'm Manny, and—I wanna get out of here, too."
"You an adventurer, Manny?"
"How—could you tell?"
"You got a baby-face," Regan laughed. "You ain't hard like any of us. Speaking of baby-face, what about you, kid?"
"Michael," Michael said. "I was a slave."
"Slave or not, we're all the same now."
"Wren," said the other in the back, still hammering away at his chains. "I'd say we skip all of our introductions and get these chains off, fast."
Regan studied the room around them. "You hear something?"
"No," he hammered even harder. "But anybody smart can figure this whole thing out."
Michael tried to help them out as gently as possible. He would never imagine his future would be helping criminals escape but here he is. Regan was already free, scouring the room for more materials and feeling against the walls in some perverted manner. Manny was still wincing and turning his head away as Pio sawed through their chains. And Wren was attached to Pio, still hammering but it looked like he was almost free.
"No, I'm hearing something," Regan pressed his ear against the moldy wall. "There's definitely something."
Pio kept sawing. "What do you hear?"
"Something…footsteps. I hear people talking. I hear people!"
"I can't believe it," Wren grumbled. "All of my training led to this?"
"I knew it! This damned arena!"
"Arena?" Manny's voice broke. "We're in an arena?"
"Toughen up baby-face, you're an adventurer!" Regan yelled. "This ain't your first time!"
"I only fought against beasts, not people!"
"Beast or people, we're gonna fight regardless," Regan focused on his hearing. "These are some fat nobles, yes…I can hear the way they walk."
Pio scoffed. "What's with you and fat nobles?"
Then the ground suddenly trembled. The gutters on the each end of the floors suddenly opened and pushed up a fresh rack of weapons. These weapons weren't rusty or broken, but totally new.
Regan's eyes couldn't glow any brighter. He pulled out a broadsword and swung it behind him, surprised that it was actually real.
None of the other prisoners felt comfortable, still tied by their chains and watching the unhinged one wielding a sharp weapon.
The room was suddenly lit with light blooming from the ceiling. There didn't seem to be any electricity but there were small orbs hovering around, like some kind of magic spell. Michael could tell the texture of the floor, the walls, and see everybody's faces more clearly.
Manny was just an inch taller than Michael, which wasn't good because Michael wasn't that tall compared to a normal adventurer. Manny's face was scared, flushing with tears, and looked the most sheepish out of all of them. Michael didn't know what he's done to become a criminal but it was hard to imagine he was the same like the rest of them.
Pio was slim, skinnier but looked to move the fastest when the lights were turned on. His face was sharp and eyes couldn't have been more the same. Apart from the enlightened Regan, he was more focused and composed than anyone else.
Wren didn't look to be in any state of emotion, still hammering away at his chains. He didn't even break the concentration when the lights had turned on.
Pio rushed over to the other side of the room and pulled out a sharp dagger. He slammed the point on his chains, over and over, as Manny was squirming even more.
The chains between Wren and Pio broke, Wren being free and arming himself with a sword.
"They're getting louder," Regan laughed while stuffing himself with weapons. "I can hear all of them!"
Regan was right. Michael heard people from all around. Sounds of cheering, footsteps above them, and other distant rumbling from afar. Michael couldn't even tell where they were, sharing the same panic as Manny.
Michael walked over to the rack of weapons. There were a few spears, an array of daggers, and a barrel filled with swords. They all looked the same as if it was cheap to manufacture the same brand of weapons. Some weapons, however, looked different but were way too old to use. Michael didn't know what to choose.
"Tough choice, slave?" Wren said beside him. "Have you ever held a sword before?"
Michael shook his head.
"God have mercy on my soul."