It had been three days since the revered Roman Empire defeated one of their numerous rebellious vassals- the Gracian Empire. And with it, my world turned into a nightmare.
I could still remember the day- the cold, harsh day when those who came back from beyond the gates weren't adorned in sky blue armors, but deep red- a red seemingly gotten from the depths of hell.
I, along with numerous other children and teenagers were taken captives, while those beyond the age bracket where... killed. Or in worst cases, raped.
It was a sight I couldn't stomach, even till today. The brutality of the Romans, the mangled organs that spread across the once crystalline street of the Gracian empire, it felt like a sight gotten straight right out of hell.
In the Rebels' Gladiator academy, or rather, to prove our worths, to prove that we weren't worthless nor useless, we were made to fight each other.
My expression darkened. 'W-We were made to kill each other.'
I stared at my blood-soaked hands, the body of a familiar country man now laying beneath me.
He was just fifteen. Barely older than I was. And yet, he had to suffer this fate. I tried to convince myself that I had no other choice, to bring an end to the Romans, I would do anything.
I'd be willing to give anything. Even my humanity.
I glanced at the cheering crowds, their loud cheers for more blood pressuring against my ears. But surprisingly, there was always a strange flow of adrenaline, along with each enemy I slayed, along with each victory I accumulated, there was this strange... want. This strange need for more.
'Two more days. Just two more days and...' I clenched my hands together, eyes turning red from the anguish, and the burning hatred. 'I will be one step closer.'
One step closer to destroying everything they hold dear.
The thought filled me with a dark, surging vitriol. Right about then, two armored men stepped forward from the black charred gates behind me, and escorted me away. Down into the pits—the home of wretched beings like me—they said.
The grim scent hit me as soon as I stepped into the pit, along with it were the slithering shadows that lingered within its depths. In this chilling world, there was no laughter or joy, there was only hatred, anger, and the will to survive.
'If only that was enough to truly survive.' The thought darkened my features.
However, over the course of the three days I'd spent in here, countless corpses I'd walked on, I'd begun to get used to it. The stench, the emotionless state of everyone around, along with the bloody Roman guardians.
Crack!
I was thrown into my cell by the Roman solider, a slight pain jarring my senses on impact with the cold, chilled metal.
The warrior spat on the ground, glancing at me in disdain. It seemed like he'd a lot of things to say, however, he simply shook his head. Though, his companion wasn't so... good.
"Gorydamn gracian." he said in great contempt. Turning right afterwards, the warrior glanced at the other pits- metal barred cells- before walking away, the sound of his boots echoing through the pits.
Step, step.
I spat out a mouthful of blood and sat against the metal bar, my breaths coming out in short, raged gasps.
"Hah, Hah..."
Today's three matches—and indeed, all were battles to the death—had taken a huge toll on me.
Closing my eyes, I covered my eyes, scenes of the earlier beautiful days with my family flashing past my eyes.
"Father. Mother," I whispered softly, the scenes of their brutal deaths flashing past my eyes.
And it was in such moments, the moment of pure rage, anger, and anguish unlike anything I'd ever felt, that something within me began to awaken. I couldn't feel it at first—I didn't want to.
After all, the chilling realization meant I would be forced to face off against other awakened. And with my decent skills, I knew I stood no chance against a desperate awakened. One fighting for their life, just like I was, mine.
However, that wouldn't change the subtle awakening. Or like the Romans liked to call it, the pre-awakening. Usually awoken by anguish, suffering, and pain. Think of any negative emotions, they were what fueled one's Awakening.
That was also the reason why awakened were quite abundant in such dire times. In the age of war. And with this age came numerous deaths and disasters.
Empires crumbled, kingdom fell, and great men were born.
Crack, Crack!
Stifling a groan, I felt something rise within me, subtle imperceptible cracks spreading around me, and from within the cracks, a deep darkness crept and slithered in. Along with the transformative change was a soul-crushing pain, one that I'd resisted for far too long.
Right now, it was on the verge of exploding, and any further attempt to bottle it up would only result in devastating consequences. My death included.
Gritting my teeth, I clenched my hands against the floor, writhing from the mind-wrenching pain that threatened to overwhelm me.
The deep darkness that surrounded me made it obvious that whatever ability I'd awaken would be related to darkness, however, there was something different about this darkness. Something that chilled my heart to the core. Not only that, along with the darkness, was something else.
Something hidden, imperceptible, yet it was there. I could feel it, however, I was unable to reach out to it.
"Akh!"
Coughing out a mouthful of blood, I felt the subtle transformation come to an end, blood rushing through my skull as I fell onto the cold, harsh floor.
Thud!
A loud cracking sound resounded through the pits, along with the numerous shouts from pit members and the Roman gladiators alike.
I could hear hurried footsteps, and I could feel a deep darkness creeping into my vision. And then-
"..."
Everything went dark.