Steven lost his composure at the sight of the notification.
The moment it appeared before his eyes, something within him twisted unpleasantly, and he found himself repeating over and over deep within his thoughts, the exact words the system had used.
'Be fed the body of a deformed Fish.'
His lips folded into a thin, irritated line as a sharp sensation crawled up his spine simply from pondering it. The phrasing alone felt wrong, disgusting and almost mocking.
Meanwhile, while Steven was still drowning in revulsion, the other members of the Cohort wore firm expressions—faces hardened by experience and familiarity. Their confidence was unmistakable, the kind that suggested this act was nothing new to them.
They were more than ready to consume the flesh of the Sea Deity.
This was probably not even their first time, Steven realized bitterly. He knew it deep down, yet a part of him desperately wanted to doubt it—to assume they were merely putting on an act for the crowd, or perhaps for the system itself.
But reality did not give him that comfort.
It didn't take long before the moment of long, dreadful anticipation finally arrived. One of the massive walls of the arena groaned as it slowly opened, stone grinding against stone. From within stepped two guards, each carrying a metal tray between them. Their boots echoed sharply as they marched to the center of the arena, stopping right before the Cohort.
And on the tray were a variety of… body parts.
All of them unmistakably harvested from their ever-reliable Ark'shaRin.
Steven leaned forward despite himself, his stomach twisting as his gaze fell upon the offering. A variety of meat—wait, was meat even the right term to use here? No. That felt far too clean. Too respectful.
Disturbing parts would be more accurate.
Three of them were fingers—thick, bloated things snapped cleanly in several places, the tendons still visibly attached and dangling loosely. Oddly enough, those were less disturbing than Steven had expected.
But then there was the last piece.
A slimy, greenish ball sat isolated from the rest, glistening wetly under the arena lighting. Its surface pulsated faintly, as if still alive. Strangely and disturbingly there was a small note attached to it.
Steven narrowed his eyes, leaning closer as he read the words scribbled across the paper. His composure shattered instantly.
"Oh no! Heck no! What the fuck is that supposed to be… fuck me!" he burst out, hands brushing violently against his eyes as though he could scrub the image clean from his vision.
The other three stretched out their hands without hesitation, each grabbing a finger from the tray. Their expressions did not waver, though all eyes soon turned toward Steven, concern flickering briefly across their faces.
The message written on the note attached to the ball echoed clearly in his mind:
(For the Rat, the balls of the Deity. Do well to gain weight.)
Steven frowned deeply as the words repeated themselves in his thoughts.
What mundane, ruthless luck.
'Why the hell does this Realm hate me?'
{Your sponsor is amused at your luck}
He let out a frustrated sigh, his jaw tightening. The stadium around them was slowly losing its thunderous noise, the cheers dimming into expectant murmurs. If he didn't take the irritating ball soon, he knew he might stir up unnecessary trouble.
So, with squinted eyes and visible reluctance, he extended his hand toward the tray. His fingers closed around the skinny, malformed thing, sinking softly into its disgustingly warm surface. The sensation alone nearly made him gag.
The guards bowed stiffly to the group afterward.
Steven gritted his teeth, doing his best not to think about the slimy object now clenched in his grasp.
'Hopefully they won't say to eat it right here. If they do, I'll rather die. You and my damned sponsor can both go fuck yourselves.'
But none of that happened.
Instead, the audience erupted into hearty applause, clapping as if they had just witnessed something noble rather than grotesque. Soon after, it was time for the group to exit the arena.
Drake was the first to move, heading toward one of the open doors of the Colosseum. Lin followed closely behind him, then Favour, and finally Steven, who deliberately slowed his pace to remain at the rear of the group.
His thoughts drifted uncontrollably, mind plagued by how close he had come to death during the fight. Worse still, not a single one of his actions had been deemed worthy enough by his Sponsor to pull him out of this nightmarish Realm.
'If that's the case… then what would I need to do to get back home to Earth?' he wondered. 'What would entertain this bastard enough to drag me out of this mess?'
And then—
{Ding!}
The system chimed inside his head.
{Poisonous material detected. Do not consume}
Steven's eyes snapped down to the irritating ball still in his grasp. His breath hitched as realization set in.
'Poisoned.'
---
The group finally descended back into the so-called Depths of Hell, immediately assaulted by the foul stench of piss, fear, and rotting flesh that permeated the prison beneath the Fated Colosseum. It was nothing short of nauseating.
For a brief moment, Steven found himself missing the fresh air of the arena. Something he never thought he would say, rather than this meager, suffocating atmosphere.
They were guided toward the weapon shacks stationed near the entrance and systematically stripped of their equipment until they were once again reduced to their torn, uncomfortable rags.
Once that was done, the guards conducted another thorough search of the prisoners' bodies. After finding nothing, the six guards split into two groups.
Three escorted the two girls toward the women's section of the ruthless prison, while the others led Drake and Steven down a darker, narrower corridor.
The two men remained silent throughout the walk. Drake led the way, his massive figure looming before Steven as he stared fixedly at the man's back.
Steven didn't trust Drake, not fully, but he couldn't deny one thing.
It was thanks to Drake that he was still alive.
He hated to admit it, but he intended to repay that favor before it came back to bite him in the back.
Finally, Drake broke the silence as he reached his cell.
"Let's meet some other time, Steeve."
Steven offered no reply. He simply watched as the courageous man was roughly shoved into his cell, the guards locking it shut without ceremony.
Steven sighed quietly. He knew he was next—about to be locked once again in the unforgiving cage of this hell. A world he was never born into. Problems he never deserved. Pain meant for another who had taken the easy way out.
Yet all of it rested on his shoulders regardless.
All because of a stupid sigil mark.
'I'm truly cursed.'
When Steven finally reached his cell, he was greeted by the sight of the old monstrosity of a man, quivering in the corner as usual. But the moment the man's eyes landed on Steven, confusion washed over his pale face.
Steven was alive?
Not only alive but shockingly unharmed, with no fresh scars, nor missing limbs. He looked perfectly fine.
The door clicked shut behind him, and the guards began to leave.
"Take this," Steven said abruptly, tossing the slimy ball across the room. It landed in a puddle with a wet splash, droplets scattering across the floor.
The sound drew the man's attention instantly. His sunken eyes traced the noise until they fell upon the strange object lying there.
Admiration filled his gaze as recognition dawned.
"Instead of trying to eat me," Steven continued flatly, "eat that instead and don't bother me."
If Steven was going to sleep tonight, he needed assurance. Assurance that he wouldn't be devoured in his sleep.
//Author's note//
Chapter dedication to the Lich King. Thanks for the support.