RE:volt! Chapter 5: Survival of the Fittest

  Soon, a year turned to two, and then to three, with Ark walking fine on his own. As his teeth came in, the good days of sucking on a woman's teet were replaced by cold bread and salted fish.

  Food he was all but familiar with.

  He munched on his rations, sitting on the cold stone floor of the servants' hovel as he eyed the other slaves. He clutched his hard bread, making sure that the meal he was given by the Caretaker was hidden beneath his long ratty sleeves.

  Stealing food was the norm in the squalor called the dorms, and he was powerless to stop anyone right now when he needed all the nutrients he could muster as he bided his time. Waiting for the day he could begin forming his mana circuits.

  "Loyd? Has anyone seen the Loyd boy?!" A voice called out, searching for him specifically by name.

  Immediately Ark got up, wading through the crowd of slaves preparing to sleep to stand before a blonde man wearing the servant’s royal blue attire with boots and a red sash around his waist that denoted him as a trustee.

  Unlike the other slaves, he wore only one shackle, the one around his neck, with his skin being lighter complexion from his work in the big house.

  The man furrowed his blonde brow, eyeing Ark up and down as the boy gazed down at the man’s boots before looking up at the man.

  "Lloyd?" The man raised a brow at the child glaring up at him. Seeming unsure what to make of the child.

  "Yes." Ark replied, glancing down as the man held his hand out that possessed not a single callus.

  "Alright then, come along."

  So it's time..

  Ark knew this day would come, the day when he'd be fitted with a collar just like the rest. The magical metal devices that kept each of the slaves in check.

  He walked out of the hovel, walking into the darkness that constituted the outside to pause and turn to the man who only starred as Ark refused his hand.

  "Are you coming?" Ark asked, not a single emotion on his face.

  The man broke out into a grin.

  "Guess the rumors were true after all." The trustee said, rubbing the back of his neck as he took Ark to get fitted with a collar.

  ****

  Nearing a small building, Ark paused, his nose twitching as the smell of soot and heated metal touched his tiny nose.

  Damn. Ark frowned, peering through the door to spy an elderly man in chains sweltering over an anvil as a man in a red vest watched.

  "Now, no time to sit in gawk, else it be my garters." The trustee said, placing a hand on Ark's back and coaxing him forward.

  Ark entered the workshop, sweeping his eyes on the archaic tools that hung on the walls. Chains, whips, nails, and bloodied tools that sat on wall hooks beside a table coated with blood.

  He walked forward, drawing an odd look from the man in the red vest who immediately punched Ark in the jaw.

  Ark reeled, hitting the ground and sprawling from the force of the attack, rolling not once but twice as his momentum made him strike the wall.

  "Who told you to approach boy?!" The red vest spat, kicking Ark in his chest to put him on his back.

  "My deepest apologies Overse-" the Trustee yelped, stepping in only to be cut off as the man raised his finger at the slave.

  "My humble apologies sir." The man backed away, lowering his gaze to sit on Ark before they looked away.

  Coward.

  "Shut it, house maid." The man glared angrily before standing over Ark. "Who told you to approach Six-two-six?"

  "No one sir." Ark replied as he laid flat on his back. Unmoving as the brutish man tapped his face with his dirty boot. Realizing that the man was regulating him to a number.

  You'll be the first I kill.

  The Overseer blinked, not expecting the reply Ark gave.

  "There something wrong with you Six-two-six? You mean muggin me?"

  "No. Sir."

  "Something wrong with my face?"

  "No sir."

  "You a bit weird six-two-six. You know that? You shouldn't look at your betters."

  "Yes sir." Ark replied, making the man narrow his eyes.

  "That's right." The man said, pressing his boot on Ark's cheek. "Get up, get on the table."

  Ark did as told, getting off the floor as he licked his lips, the familiar taste of copper on his tongue as he obliged.

  "Fuckin weirdo." The red vest muttered watching Ark comely sit on the bloody table before turning to the smith. "Let's get it labeled. It's late and Master Azar wants it ready for presentation."

  "Yes Overseer." The collared smith obliged, taking the black metal circular object that was on the anvil and slapping it around Ark's neck.

  *Clink*

  Ark inhaled at the sound, his very soul quivering in anger as the device clamped on.

  But it wasn't over. Next came the tattooing and the branding, numbers imprinted on his arm as his shirt was removed and a brand was seared into his chest over his heart.

  It took all of Ark's strength and willpower to not scream and thrash. To hold his tongue as the heated metal touched his body, desecrating his skin, and branding him with a genealogy mark that denoted all the information a buyer could want.

  Date of birth, seller, and race. All inscribed in a circular crest.

  "Fucking boring. And here I was wanting to hear you scream." The red vest complained, frowning as Ark failed to make a sound. "Are you defective six-two-six? Nah, fuck it, not my problem."

  Ark wanted to kill. To slaughter. To hang the Overseer by his entrails.

  But it wasn't just his feelings, but the feelings of Ireliex who had been silent. The Progenitor of Dragons clearly unhappy at being chained, being marked. Something that at least made Ark happy.

  Despite their combined feelings, everything he wanted would have to wait.

  In due time. Ark told himself, accepting the brand, accepting his roots.

  If there was one thing Ark had, it was time. Time to plot. Time to plan. Time to unravel the situation of the world. Once he could begin developing magic circuits he would make sure the Overseer would regret his actions.

  This, Ark promised as he glared at the man who promptly smacked him for looking at him.

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  Ark: Age 7.

  More years passed as Ark waited for his body to be capable of making a breakthrough.

  "Forty. Forty-one. Forty-two. Forty-three. Forty-four. Forty-five-" Ark counted off, performing his daily ritual behind a barn where several crates were arranged to obscure his actions as the other slaves ate.

  Between working in the fields during the day, avoiding the two overseer's extracurricular activities at night, and sneaking about the grounds when he was alone, lunch time was the only time Ark had to exercise. The only time no one would be looking for him.

  Usually.

  Is there a reason you waste time exercising when you can just augment yourself through mana? Ireliex asked as an image of the Dragon Empress sitting cross-legged in a dark void appeared in Ark's mind.

  Ark remained silent, his one purpose being the rhythmic movements of his muscles.

  So you're just going to ignore me?

  Still silent.

  Fine. Suit yourself mongrel.

  You're awfully chatty all of a sudden. Ark sent back. It had been years since the pair last spoke, with Ark nearly forgetting she existed if not for the occasional feelings of disgust he felt.

  I'm just curious why you're wasting your time when magic circuits will just augment you anyway.

  A healthy body. Leads to a healthy mind. You dragons are born gifted, born strong. Stagnant beings that never had to work to improve. Ark shot back, his arms beginning to quiver as he finally hit fifty. When you have no mana, when your magic runs dry, the only thing you have to rely on is yourself and your body.

  A moment passed as the dragon went silent.

  …Interesting. Ireliex replied after some time. I suppose I hadn't considered the weakness of your mortal flesh.

  I wouldn't look down on mankind, lizard. This is the same mortal flesh that hunted your kind.

  Using our stolen techniques and weapons no less.

  I used what was available.

  “Six-two-six!” A feminine voice yelled, drawing Ark from his work of self improvement and argument with the dragon.

  He wiped his brow, eyes darting up as the familiar voice of the Head Overseer sounded out once more.

  Shit.

  Ark got up, climbing over the crates to make his way toward the woman who kept calling his number.

  "Ma'am! Six-two-six reporting as ordered!" Ark replied, a good obedient slave that bowed his head toward the woman clad in yellow leather.

  Ark was immediately struck, the metal wand that was used to keep the slaves in line hitting him across the face.

  "When I call you, you sound off. Where the fuck were you?" The yellow clad woman demanded, before suddenly, her eyes went wide, looking over the sweating shirtless boy up and down. She licked her lips, wetting the cracked skin in a manner Ark knew well.

  Lust.

  "Which slave dorm do you reside in?" Overseer Delia asked, placing the metal rod beneath his chin to lift his head to meet her yellow eyes surrounded with makeup.

  "Six four ma'am." Ark replied, a lie of course. One that would no doubt get him in trouble but at least buy him time.

  The brunette woman narrowed her eyes.

  "Report to Knight Bruno. You've been selected for training." The woman said, touching his face, almost caressing it with her fingers that sported yellow colored nails as the familiar trustee known as Felone appeared.

  Training? Ark nearly asked, yet he knew not to open his mouth. It seemed he was being moved to the combat thralls camp rather than the pickers or house servants. Not that he minded.

  "You've got a fantastic set of aqua blues…" The Overseer Delia whispered, caught up in a trance for a moment as she stared into Ark's eyes. Neither party realizing that a draconic effect was in play.

  On second thought… maybe I can use this.

  Although Ark was inwardly disgusted, he knew an opportunity when he saw one. A potential exploit. This was the first time she'd seen him, but it wasn't the first he'd seen her. Ark was well acquainted with the woman. Her eating habits, her patrol routes, her schedule, another target on his growing list.

  "Get."

  "Yes ma'am." Ark bowed, taking off with the red-sashed trustee who waited until they were out of ear shot to speak.

  "I know you're smart enough not to lie to the overseers kid." Felone whispered, a hint of annoyance in his suave voice.

  "Will you report me?" Ark replied deadpan, eyes glancing over to the group of slaves being whipped by an overseer as they passed through the slave quarters.

  “No. Just don't get me caught up in your hijinks "savior".” Felone replied, addressing Ark by the rumored nickname that had been going around.

  "Good. Did you get what I asked?" Ark said, the man glancing down.

  "Yes. But do know I took a great risk upon my persons by doing so." Felone replied, green eyes glancing over the young boy beside him.

  "Thank you Felone. I promise to pay you back for this." Ark said as the trustee reached into his sash and took out a lead pencil and rolled parchment, two items Ark needed for his future plans.

  Ark took the items, quickly placing them into his pants where he had stitched a pocket into the inner thigh of his tattered rags.

  "I won't ask why you need it. But don't get caught." Felone replied, eyeing the boy who was so different than all the other children he'd seen come and go. Maybe he is-

  "Oui, where you lot going?" Overseer Manfry called out, stepping out of one of the many slave hovels while fixing his belt.

  "Appointment with Knight Bruno sir." Felone replied, immediately bowing. "I am escorting the young six-two-six to be trained as an enforcer for Lord Constantine."

  "This little shit?" Manfry spat, poking Ark in the head with his metal baton.

  Ark gave no response, instead he kept his focus on the man's leather boots. A trick he'd learned from his previous life.

  "Yes sir, this little shit indeed." Felone replied, grabbing Ark by the scruff of his neck. "Master Constantine wishes for the boy to be deposited post haste into Knight Bruno's charge so as you may see, Overseer Manfry, time is-."

  "Go, get! Enough of your yapping ya damn pixie!"

  "Thank you for being such an accommodating being sir." Felone bowed again, this time forcing Ark to do the same by the hand on the boy's neck.

  The pair walked off, Ark making sure to avoid eye contact as they did so.

  "So you believe that crap? About me being a savior?" Ark whispered, gauging the trustee's interest in the rumors about him as they exited earshot. After all, another asset was another asset.

  "As much as I believe a furry Horex will wipe its arsehole with toilet paper." Felone replied, the two nearing a wooden arena. "Isolation and loneliness must have infected that poor wetnurse to concoct such rubbish to tell the truth, so don't get any ideas."

  Ark raised a brow, looking at the man who possessed much more etiquette and ability than all the slaves he'd seen combined.

  "The hell is toilet paper?" Ark asked, confused by the idiom used.

  "Right. Savior. You're certainly different. I shall give you that six-two-six." The man scoffed, before flourishing his hand toward the twin wooden gates that were wide open. "Here we are six-two-six. If you'll please step forward and join the rest, I'll consider my task done."

  Ark did as told, walking through the double doors and into the arena filled with racks of wooden weapons, training dummies, and dozens of other kids.

  Boys and girls, various eye colors, ages ranging from six all the way to thirteen from Ark's estimate, with the one thing they had in common being the collars around their necks.

  Ark glanced at Felone who nodded, his expression flickering to concern for only a fraction of a second before he turned and left, leaving Ark to join the crowd of other children.

  Great.

  Walking, he shouldered his way into the crowd, blending into the cloister of kids sequestered by the wooden walls of the training pit and the sand beneath their bare and calloused feet.

  Ark frowned.

  Ireliex… just tell me. Are we in the past or are we in the future? Please. I need to know. Ark asked as he glanced around, taking in the sickly and disgusting state of his peers.

  The power of time lies outside the capabilities of even a regal species as mine.

  Ark frowned. It was just as he feared. Despite wiping out the dragons in his former life, the world remained the same. The status quo kept. A small portion of himself had hoped that he was in the past, that he could put his knowledge of his time to use to correct the mistakes of the past.

  To save Liliana.

  Harsh reality hit Ark, the last vestige of hope fading away as a man in full plate stepped into the arena.

  Knight Selgeun Bruno, a disgraced knight judging from the rumors Ark had picked up from his skulking. A man of no nonsense who hated everyone and everything.

  Well, anything that didn't have to do with fighting. He was an oaf, a brute given the title of Knight to keep the slave master's minions in check.

  "Listen up you bottom feeders!" Bruno barked, drawing the attention of the entire cohort.

  "I am Knight Sergeant Bruno, a knight in service of Baron Constantine! And today, I have been given the task to weed out the gems from the refuse. So, rejoice! For your miserable lives have been selected to be repurposed for a noble cause!" The man declared as several men suddenly entered the arena, each carrying whips and various tools Ark was well acquainted with.

  Helpers… Ark frowned, tracking the men as they spread out, boxing in the children and preventing any means of escape.

  "Those who make it past selection will be given extra rations, clothes, and a means of improving your station by serving under me." Bruno explained as several helpers moved a table into the center of the arena and began placing various types of food on the table. At the sight, the emancipated and starved children began to drool, their eyes greedily eyeing the fresh bounty before their eyes.

  A hand from a little girl nearby went up, stepping forward to reach for the food yet was immediately hit with a whip from a nearby helper that sent her squealing away like a feral animal.

  "Today. We shall be playing a game!" Bruno continued, causing several of the more lethargic children to perk up, their attention captured at the prospect of playing rather than the rewards and food.

  "A game called Survival of the fittest." Bruno said, taking off his gauntlet and snapping his fingers to summon a helper that dumped a box filled with tems Ark immediately recognized at the foot of the crowd.

  Weapons.

  Not wooden weapons, training swords, or iron bars, but actual iron blades with sharp edges.

  Shit. Ark balled his fists, putting two and two together.

  "The rules are simple. Kill to survive. If you wish to live then pick up a blade and take a life." Bruno announced, drawing odd looks from the gathered children. "Prove to me and Lord Constantine that you are worth investing in. Once you do that…"

  The knight raised his hand, gesturing to the table. "You may eat to your heart's content."

  Immediately pandemonium ensued.

  .