[Calamity Calendar: Year 1010, Month 2]
On the day Shu turned ten years old, he was summoned by Lester and informed that he would now fight as a warrior.
There was no right to refuse.
If he refused, he would be tortured until he died, and that gruesome process would simply be turned into another distasteful show for the VIP guests. Sometimes, these horrific endings were shown to the other slaves as well — a brutal way of training them to remain obedient.
He was handed a child-sized sword and given one week of "rest" as preparation time.
Though it was called a vacation, he could not leave the island. It simply meant he was exempt from his regular work.
He was told only that his opponent would be a twelve-year-old boy brought by another slave owner.
For the entire week, Shu repeatedly practiced swinging his new sword, trying to get his body used to its weight and feel.
On the day of the match, a ten-year-old boy and a twelve-year-old boy stood facing each other in the familiar arena. Both carried weapons, but neither wore any armor. They were dressed only in thin pants and shirts.
The spectators did not come to see a display of skill. They wanted a slaughter.
If they wanted technical combat, they could have gone to the coliseums in the big cities.
These people had traveled all the way to this illegal island and paid high admission fees because they wanted to see blood spraying through the air, hear desperate screams, and watch people beg for their lives.
Shu felt no tension. He felt neither impatience nor carelessness.
Since he had been brought to the island at the age of five, he had watched scenes like this every week. Now it was simply his turn to perform them.
His opponent was larger in build, but his face clearly showed fear and nervousness. Shu's mind was focused on one thing: How can I create a scene that will excite the audience?
After a brief introduction by the referee, the gong signaling the start of the deathmatch rang out.
Shu moved first.
Against an opponent who lacked real combat experience, striking while their body was stiff with tension would almost guarantee victory. He first made a large, exaggerated swing aimed at the boy's neck. As expected, the opponent raised his sword to block. At that moment, Shu changed the trajectory of his blade and slashed deeply into the boy's left thigh.
Blood sprayed for an instant, then began pouring down heavily, soaking the boy's ankle.
At that point, the opponent had already lost the will to fight. However, the gong would not sound until one of them was dead or completely unable to move.
Shu considered his next target. If he attacked recklessly while the boy was desperately swinging his sword, he himself might get injured. A minor wound that could heal in a few days was acceptable, but a serious injury would be problematic. Even if he won today, he would have to fight again next week. He could not afford to be careless, even when he held the advantage.
After a brief standoff, Shu moved again. This time, he targeted the boy's right wrist — the hand holding the sword.
Because of his injury, the opponent could no longer move quickly. As Shu approached, the boy thrust his sword forward threateningly toward Shu's face. Shu moved in slowly, deliberately letting the boy attack first. The moment the boy's arm was fully extended, Shu slashed his wrist.
"Aaaaaahhh!"
With a scream, the boy dropped his sword and clutched his wrist in agony. Shu circled behind him and mercilessly drove the blade deep into his back, piercing straight through to the heart.
Dozens of seconds later, there was only a motionless lump of flesh lying in a pool of blood.
The ending gong had already rung, but Shu hadn't noticed. When the referee tapped him on the shoulder, he turned around in surprise, pointing his sword at the referee before finally coming back to his senses.
Shu was somewhat excited, but he felt neither guilt nor regret.
He stripped off his shirt, now dyed red with splattered blood, and took a shower first. If he didn't, blood would drip everywhere he walked, making cleaning difficult.
After showering, Lester handed him a new set of familiar work clothes and a small amount of money.
Lester: "That was a good show. You understood exactly what the audience wanted, didn't you?"
Shu remained expressionless, but Lester continued with a smile.
Lester: "Use that money to go to the shop. You're free for the rest of the day until bedtime. Rest well and keep up the good work starting tomorrow."
Inside the Bangan Island facilities, there was a shop exclusively for slaves.
The slaves of Bangan Island were also paid a small wage.
What Shu picked up was cheap wound medicine. He himself was unharmed, but one of his fellow slaves might still be fighting and could return injured.
He still remembered the regret he felt five years ago — carrying a basket of medicinal herbs on his back while being unable to save anyone from his village.
Perhaps this wound medicine could save someone's life.
Shopkeeper: "Thanks as always. That'll be 3,000 gold."
The price was double the normal market rate, but Shu had no way of knowing that.
Shopkeeper: "Anything else you want? I can order things too."
Even if it wasn't in stock, the shopkeeper could place an order if asked. Not everything was available, but common items such as books, underwear, and non-perishable food could be ordered. Of course, an additional commission fee had to be paid to the shopkeeper. Since this commission was valuable pocket money for the staff, they were usually quite helpful unless the item was extremely difficult to obtain.
Shu didn't have anything in particular he wanted.
More accurately, he didn't even know enough about the outside world to know what he might want.
As he stood there thinking, the shopkeeper spoke again kindly.
Shopkeeper: "Here, I'll give you this. It's a list of items I can order. If you see anything you want, just tell me."
Shu left the shop once, but then remembered something and turned back.
Shu: "I want a book. Something like a guide to martial arts or swordsmanship."
Shopkeeper: "Got it! I'll look for one. Come back next week."
The slaves on Bangan Island lived in relatively privileged conditions for slaves.
First, the climate was warm throughout the year. There were occasional cold days, but it never snowed, not even a hint of it.
The working conditions and treatment of slaves were also good.
For example, in many similar facilities, after returning from a show, slaves would usually be forced to resume their regular work. However, making someone work right after a bloody fight when their emotions were still running high only led to trouble with others.
Therefore, by Lester's decision, anyone who returned from a show was exempt from labor for the rest of that day.
Normally, slaves had no days off. But on Bangan Island, slaves received one day off every eight days. (In this world, one week consists of eight days.)
Wages were paid once a week. Although the amount was very low compared to normal workers, it was rare for any organization to pay wages to slaves at all.
The slaves worked diligently and received their wages. They would buy snacks at the shop and spend their days off having tea parties with their companions.
These small comforts significantly reduced stress among the slaves, decreased trouble, and improved work efficiency. This, too, was all according to Lester's intentions.
If a slave was injured or fell ill, they could see a doctor. That doctor himself had become a slave due to gambling debts.
Those who went against Lester's wishes, those who were rebellious, or those judged harmful to the organization were mercilessly disposed of.
However, if someone was recognized as useful to the organization, they could enjoy relatively decent treatment.
Profile
Name: Lester
Born: Calamity Calendar Year 958
Age in 1010: 52 years old
Boss of Bangan Island. Moderate physical strength, decent financial power, and quite sharp-minded.
Born in the slums of a dangerous city, he grew up as a delinquent youth and led a street gang. After losing a conflict with another gang, he was turned into an illegal slave.
Several years after becoming a slave, the slave quarters where he was staying caught fire. Taking advantage of the chaos, he and a few companions attempted to escape.
Having no identification as a (illegal) slave, he could not find proper work even after leaving the city, so he became a bandit.
After ten years as a bandit, he had made a name for himself. His underground connections with wealthy merchants and high-ranking officials grew, and one of them entrusted him with the management of this island. He has remained in this position ever since.