A dull clang rolled through the cell, and everyone glanced over on instinct.
The newcomers were a boy and a girl, both quite young.
The boy's face was bruised, his whole body caked in dust. His lips were pressed tight, and his wary eyes swept the room.
But what truly drew everyone's gaze was the girl beside him.
Even in the gloom, her shoulder-length scarlet hair burned bright, making her dark eyes seem all the more luminous.
While the prisoners were quietly sizing them up, the iron door banged again. The same overseer as before returned, lugging a bucket. "One serving each—don't get clever," he barked.
Lunch was black bread and an unidentifiable soup, slopped into battered wooden bowls. Even the two newcomers received a portion.
"Why didn't I get any food yesterday…" Shane groused, taking a sulky bite of the dry, hard bread.
"Their timing's earlier than usual," Jellal said, splitting his bread and handing Shane half. "Normally, just to teach them a lesson, they don't toss new people in—like garbage—until after dinner."
Shane got it. The overseers had probably been spooked by the mage's attack and hurried to pen up the freshly captured slaves.
Just like rats—hear a noise and they panic.
Being worshiped by a bunch like this even knocked the dead dark mage down a notch in his estimation.
If that was the case, they'd be making more moves next. With brains like theirs, they'd likely halt construction and sweep the whole tower. No wonder they were rushing to lock everyone up—only now did it occur to them…
When the last portion was handed out, the overseer didn't leave. He planted himself in the middle of the cell, hands on hips, beady eyes raking over each face.
"Listen up," he announced gruffly. "This afternoon you stay put. No work."
A murmur ran through the cell; a few faces flashed with surprise.
"And don't think that mage is coming to save you. We'll drag him out." He kicked the empty bucket with his boot—an ear-splitting clang. "Anyone who dares make trouble at a time like—"
He cut himself off mid-threat, as if suddenly wary of something, swallowed the rest, and snapped, "Just don't cause me problems!"
The door clanged shut behind him. When his footsteps faded, Sawyer was the first to spring up.
"No work? Great!"
"Those bastards are scared," someone snickered under their breath. "He didn't even finish his tough talk—afraid the mage might be hiding in here!"
"Gotta thank that archer mage—ha! Feels good!"
Laughter bubbled up. A first-ever "day off" had everyone buzzing.
Shane couldn't help smiling too. Nice to feel the morning's effort hadn't been for nothing—not to mention that half-day on site had pretty much done him in.
Sawyer sidled over and waggled his brows. "Rough luck, Shane. If you'd arrived today, no whipping and a day off."
Shane gave a helpless cough and smoothly turned toward the two newcomers. "Speaking of which—we never got your names."
He used the introductions to steer the topic elsewhere.
Sure enough, the red-haired girl was more interesting than teasing him; Sawyer's curiosity snapped to her at once.
"Simon," the boy said curtly, still guarded.
"Erza…" the girl answered softly, her scarlet hair glinting in the dim light.
"Erzaaa~!" With the arrival of a second girl at last, Millianna bounded over like a happy bird and seized Erza's hands.
Shane left the reunion to them and focused on Simon instead.
The boy was solidly built, muscles far beyond a normal kid's.
If he started something, having Simon's help would make a lot of things easier.
But Shane's frank once-over made Simon stiffen with discomfort. Ever since the Black Magic Cult destroyed his village and he was separated from his sister, he'd kept his guard up against everyone. "What do you want?" Simon frowned.
Shane acted as if he hadn't noticed the wariness. Cheerfully, he held out the half loaf Jellal had given him. "You're strong. You should eat more."
In a cell this small, the gesture drew eyes at once. A wounded man short on food himself offering some to someone else—odd, to say the least.
Feeling the looks, Shane scratched his head in puzzlement. Then a lightbulb went on, and he turned to Erza, who had just wriggled free of Millianna's hug. "Ah, right. Erza—this soup is for you. Don't worry, I haven't touched it."
True enough—two newcomers, and he'd only offered one of them something. That was on him.
"At this point, who cares whether it's been touched," Erza said, studying him. "Why are you giving me food?"
Simon stared the same way.
The mood stalled—awkward and a little tense—until Sawyer, probably without meaning to, stepped in to smooth things over.
"You clown. If you want to copy the old man, at least use your own share. Don't use Jellal's to buy goodwill!"
"Nope. Jellal's portion is already in my stomach. What I handed over was mine." Face perfectly straight, Shane stuffed the remaining bread in his mouth to "destroy the evidence," then spoke around the last bite.
"You think I'm stupid?!" Sawyer roared, pouncing with flailing claws.
Watching them scuffle, Jellal only shook his head. His friend was great at most things—just… thought in odd ways sometimes.
"Pfft—" Erza couldn't help but laugh, and even Simon relaxed a little.
"Take the kid's goodwill," Grandpa Rob said gently as he came over. "He doesn't mean harm."
Simon stood silent, clutching the half loaf. Erza, however, picked up the bowl and took a small sip—then lifted both bowls, one in each hand, tipped her head back, and downed them with a hearty glug-glug.
"Whoa." Her boldness drew applause all around.
Wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, she let out a long breath, turned to Shane—now pinned under Sawyer—and thanked him earnestly. "Hah… thank you for the soup."
"Then save me already!" Shane shouted, struggling under Sawyer's hold. "Who treats an injured man like this?!"
"Understood." Erza nodded solemnly—and before Jellal could explain they were only horsing around, she joined the fray.
She didn't bother to pick sides and was terrifyingly strong; with one hand apiece she flattened both of them. The pressure on Shane doubled—worse than before.
"Simon! Grab this crazy woman!" he yelped. "The bread is your payment—your—"
Before he could finish, Erza planted him back down without ceremony.
…Was he talking to me?
Simon blinked, slow on the uptake—he didn't even know this Shane.
He didn't intend to get involved, but after a glance at the wrestling trio, he looked down at the half loaf in his hand.
He hesitated a beat, then took a huge bite, didn't even chew, strode forward, and with sheer force pried the three apart. "Fighting is wrong," he said, dead serious.