After that, Liscal really didn't touch Aslan. The slaves in the same room came back exhausted every day, but Aslan stayed alone in the prison the whole time.
Thanks to that, he got an opportunity.
A chance to see if energy existed in this world too.
If energy existed, he could learn martial arts.
So Aslan quietly closed his eyes and felt for energy. Fortunately, energy did exist here too.
But there was one problem.
If the energy in the martial world was like a gentle breeze you could borrow peacefully, the energy in this world was like raging waves.
It meant controlling energy was extremely difficult.
'Creating a dantian in a short time will be tough.'
If he had created a dantian, he would've had more leeway, but Aslan couldn't manage it. He still couldn't fully adapt to this world's raging energy.
Aslan made creating a dantian his first goal.
Basically, having the power to protect yourself broadens your options.
Especially in a world where high-ranking people had hobbies like taxidermying humans. So it was important to prepare countermeasures quickly.
One of those countermeasures was the dantian.
Plus, his first match was in a few days.
He still didn't know the level of combat in this world. It'd be great if he could create a dantian by then, but the chances were low. So Aslan came up with other plans.
He couldn't just jump into the arena without any information.
First, gather intelligence.
But where should he gather it from?
Maybe because of what slave overseer Liscal said, nobody interfered with him, and nobody even glanced his way.
The ones he saw most often were fellow slaves in the same situation, but the problem was they always left in the morning and came back completely exhausted in the evening.
Most importantly, they were in the same boat as Aslan. Dragged here as slaves from foreign countries and forced to train.
They probably knew just as little as he did.
"Excuse me..."
So he found another method.
When the slaves went for training, there was a woman who came in to clean the prison.
She had short hair and wore ragged clothes, but you couldn't hide that she was a woman. When she came in, she just cleaned silently.
She never looked at Aslan and never came near him. Her head was always bowed so low that he'd never properly seen her face.
"?"
The woman who heard Aslan's words turned her gaze. Their eyes met. As soon as they made eye contact, the woman looked surprised and quickly bowed her head again.
'Is she mute?'
"Can't you speak?"
"..."
"Is that it?"
"..."
"Can't you talk?"
Three repeated questions. The woman pretended not to hear and cleaned silently.
"Are you talking to me?"
The woman raised her head. She was closer to a girl than a woman. She was quite beautiful. She had a slender chin, a straight nose, and large, moist eyes.
'Odd eyes?'
And she had blue eyes on the right and green eyes on the left.
The sight looked so mystical it was like jewels were embedded there.
That's how Aslan could understand why the odd-eyed girl went around with her head bowed.
The answer was in Aslan's memories.
In this world, odd eyes were synonymous with bad luck. So even with such beautiful looks, she couldn't walk around holding her head up properly.
"Yes."
"I... I am..."
The woman's voice was slightly trembling. It was a slightly hoarse voice, which was because she hadn't spoken properly for days. She wasn't in a position to talk to anyone.
In this world, having different colored eyes meant bad luck and also filthiness.
It was superstition, but people thought these were eyes you were born with when you had multiple fathers.
So the woman had lived being treated lower than even slaves. Even slaves considered it taboo to talk to her and wouldn't go near her.
She was treated like an untouchable.
The interesting fact was that because of people's perception, she had survived until now.
Slaves who became useless in the arena were ruthlessly disposed of, but she was an exception. Even executioners avoided putting a blade to her body, so she could survive doing menial work here.
The irony that she could survive because she was considered the most unclean.
"I don't care about that stuff."
"B...but..."
"Please help me. If you help me, I'll help you too."
"What kind of..."
"I want to know how to get out of this place."
"You can't escape. You'll get caught."
"I'm asking about how to get out of slave status."
"?"
Then the odd-eyed girl blinked her big eyes for a moment and said,
"There is a way for that."
"What way?"
"You can buy your own freedom by winning."
The woman's voice was getting better. It wasn't clear, but it was a strong voice. She spoke very well too. Her eyes were bright, and her expression was natural.
She was someone ostracized in this world as 'mismatched eyes' or 'dirty blood,' but in the modern world Aslan used to live in, she had looks good enough to be a celebrity.
"How many times do I need to win?"
"A lot. A whole lot. But there's a way to reduce that number."
Her eyes shone very brightly for a moment. Aslan could tell he'd found the right person to ask.
"I'm Aslan. What's your name?"
"..."
"Don't you have a name?"
It wouldn't be strange if she didn't have a name.
"The day we get out of here, I'll give you a name."
***
The odd-eyed girl was 13 years old, quite young as she appeared.
She was two years younger than Aslan's current age. Since adulthood here was based on 16 years old, it meant she wasn't even an adult yet.
The information she told Aslan was extensive. And very useful.
Thanks to that, he could see a path for how to survive here.
"Please don't tell anyone you talked to me."
"Even that's a problem?"
"Yes... Mr. Liscal especially hates me more. He won't even come near me."
"Hard to understand."
"Are you really okay with me? Don't you feel anything when you look at my eyes?"
"I do."
"..."
The girl fell silent.
"Your eyes are very pretty."
"!"
Many emotions showed on the girl's face when she heard those words.
"Let's get out together. I'll make it happen. And I'll make sure no one can say anything about those eyes."
Then instead of answering, the girl smiled slightly.
It was a beautiful smile.
But Aslan caught the meaning behind that smile.
She didn't believe him.
But she was grateful.
Even though he caught the meaning behind the smile, Aslan wasn't disappointed. The girl's reaction was natural.
Aslan hadn't shown her anything. He'd just thrown around a few words.
From the girl's perspective, there was no guarantee Aslan would survive his first match right away. So that's why she showed that kind of smile.
"You must survive."
The girl ended with those words, bowed her head deeply again, wrapped her face with cloth, and went outside.
After the girl left, Aslan organized his plan.
First, getting out of slave status was urgent.
The fortunate thing was that popularity was very important in this arena too.
'First, gain popularity.'
***
"Ugh!"
"Stupid kid. Couldn't even throw a proper punch."
A young slave covered in blood came inside. Seeing Liscal getting angry, the match content must have been terrible.
His eyes were so swollen he could barely open them, and many teeth were missing. His face was mangled beyond recognition.
The room atmosphere became seriously tense at that sight.
Even in that situation, Liscal swung his whip at the bloodied slave.
Crack! Crack!
The slave writhed and screamed. But he had no strength to resist.
After swinging the whip twice, Liscal looked at Aslan with a stern expression.
"Aslan! Now it's your match. If you don't want to end up like that, you'd better struggle as much as you can. If you want to live like you said."
Liscal gave a sinister smile.
He followed Liscal to the dueling arena.
Clank.
Liscal unlocked the shackles on his feet.
'It's not a sand pit.'
He'd been thinking of the Colosseum, but it wasn't a sand pit. The floor was stone. If it wasn't sand, he'd have to revise his strategy.
Fighting on a stone floor would easily cause injuries.
It was a format where you went up from the basement to the arena, and there were dense iron bars. Inside, you could see gladiators of various appearances.
Were they gladiator slaves? Or gladiators?
According to the odd-eyed girl, if you showed some results in matches, you were also given the privilege of watching matches.
So those waiting and watching matches inside were ones who achieved decent records.
His eyes went to them too, but Aslan first examined the floor. It was well-maintained but stone. Very hard stone.
This meant even a simple throw could cause major injuries.
Everything else was as expected. Countless spectators were shouting at the fighter's entrance. It was loud enough to make his ears ring.
Aslan's match was boxing.
Rules where you could only attack with fists.
"Clench your fists tight. If you don't want to die getting beaten without even throwing a proper punch."
That was Liscal's advice.
Aslan brushed off Liscal's advice lightly. When it came to fighting, he was more of an expert.
"A slave from the crown prince of the Maran Kingdom! Aslan!"
The announcer using amplification magic introduced Aslan. And his opponent walked out from the opposite entrance. As soon as he saw his opponent, he let out a hollow laugh.
'That's supposed to be a teenager? I'd believe it if you said he was thirty.'
He was shorter than Aslan. But his build was incomparable. Like he'd done bodybuilding, his whole body was muscular. His face showed slightly boyish features, but he even had male pattern baldness, so you couldn't possibly see him as Aslan's age.
'Still, I should be able to make some money.'
Make money quickly and escape slave status. For that, the stronger the opponent, the better.
The opponent had to be strong for victory to shine brighter.
Right now, Aslan's head was filled with nothing but thoughts of escaping slave status as soon as possible. And fortunately, the arena was also a good opportunity.
'The crowd likes comeback victories the most, right?'
Gain popularity instantly through a reversal. This psychology of the masses wasn't much different from modern fighting sports.
So he could easily understand the odd-eyed girl's explanation.
What points to target to quickly gain popularity, and how to act to quickly escape slave status.
"Now get out there!"
Liscal gave him a light push on the back. Hot sunlight beat down.
His first match had begun.