The elf kid was incredibly fast—he surged forward with surprising speed and grabbed the knife before Julius could react. Now, he stood pointing it directly at him, eyes sharp with intent.
This kid was even faster than the old man earlier, which meant things were about to get much harder for Julius.
Meanwhile, in the other cages, brutal battles were raging on.
One cage in particular stood out. Inside were two 13-year-old boys—both hybrids of different monstrous origins—and a human woman, around 26 years old.
One of the boys had orc blood. He was tall, muscular, with red skin and wore primitive clothes made of cheetah hide, resembling Stone Age attire. He stood around 6'1". The other, a goblin hybrid, was shorter at 4'9", and wore simple fabric clothing, also Stone Age in style.
Despite their youth, there was something disturbingly adult about their behavior. They had already made an unspoken agreement to turn on each other only when necessary—once the situation inside the cage became dire enough.
The woman, on the other hand, looked worn and defeated. She was of average appearance, with short black hair, black eyes, and glasses. Her black sleeveless top and skirt were tattered in several places, exposing skin, though she showed no concern for modesty anymore—perhaps she had given up on it long ago.
The orc-hybrid boy suddenly lunged, grabbing both her arms and yanking them apart with unnatural strength. With a cruel kick to each joint, he broke them without hesitation. Her screams echoed through the chamber, raw with agony.
The goblin-hybrid watched with unsettling hunger in his eyes, drooling slightly. He moved to grab her legs, forcefully spreading them—though what followed was left unfinished, interrupted by the rising noise of another nearby fight.
It was clear what their intentions were, and everyone around them knew it.
This kind of abuse was tragically common among captured female slaves—regardless of race. Female elves, in particular, were often subjected to horrors far too many times in their lives.
Her cries of pain could be heard throughout the cage area. The demons overseeing the arena didn't flinch, didn't interfere. They merely watched, cold and calculating. To them, these were all just contestants in a savage tournament. Only the strongest, most ruthless survivors were of any interest.
Some of the cage battles had already ended, but the bodies weren't being tossed out through the lava bars like before. Instead, they were being kept—stored like meat reserves for later.
Meanwhile, the elf kid was relentlessly striking at Julius, one blow after another. Julius dodged most of them, his movements quick and reactive, but a few strikes still landed—leaving shallow cuts on both of his arms. Nothing fatal yet, but enough to sting.
Suddenly, Julius seized the opportunity. He grabbed the elf kid by the head with his right hand, locking him in place. But the kid wasn't giving up that easily—he instantly retaliated, trying to drive his knife, gripped in his right hand, into Julius's skull with full force.
Reacting quickly, Julius caught the knife-wielding hand with his left. Now gripping both the kid's head and weapon hand, he began to push him backward—toward the glowing lava bars behind them, just like he had done to the old man earlier.
The elf kid was inches from the bars. His face twisted in panic, knowing full well what would happen if he touched them.
Then—a voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Stop."
Deep. Menacing. Absolute in command.
Everything froze. Not just Julius and the elf kid, but every fight in the surrounding cages halted in an eerie silence.
A demon stepped into view.
He had the physique and presence of a middle-aged warrior—broad, muscular, and imposing. In his right hand, he held a spear as dark as night. His body was partially armored with what looked like natural plating, covering key areas including his mouth's edges and groin, like some twisted fusion of organic and armor. His tail, long and pointed, slithered unnaturally behind him.
"You can let the boy go now," he said calmly.
Julius hesitated for a moment before releasing his grip on the elf kid's head.
The lava bars hissed, then retracted into the cage walls.
For a moment, it felt like they were both being freed.
Julius stepped forward, a flicker of relief in his eyes—but before he could take more than two steps, the demon's tail suddenly lashed forward. It pierced Julius's left shoulder and violently threw him back, slamming him against the cage wall.
"Freedom is only for the child," the demon said coldly. "Not you."
The elf kid stepped out of the cage. The lava bars slid back into place behind him, sealing Julius in once more. Blood trickled from Julius's wound as he collapsed to the floor, clutching his shoulder.
"Come with me," the demon ordered the elf kid.
Without a word, the child followed, and the two disappeared beyond the stone doors, leaving Julius alone in the cage.
Well, not completely alone.
A portion of the old man's body still remained inside. When Julius pushed him in the lava bars earlier, part of him had brushed the lava bars. That single touch was enough to melt him from the point of contact downward, slicing his body vertically into four uneven chunks—three of which had fallen outside. One had stayed behind.
Julius, wincing in pain, limped toward the filthy cot in the corner. He tore off a piece of the grimy bedsheet and wrapped it tightly around his bleeding shoulder.
All around, the air was filled with screams—raw, desperate, inescapable. Julius's eyes drifted to a corner of the cage, where the knife lay abandoned on the floor, faintly glinting under the dim light.
Slowly, he got up, wincing as the pain in his shoulder flared again. He limped toward the blade, picked it up, and stared at it in silence. It was the same knife the elf kid had used. The same blade he had nearly died to.
Beside him still rested the mangled piece of the old man's body—the one chunk that hadn't made it past the lava bars.
Julius didn't know what he was going to do with either. The knife. The corpse. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. In a place like this, the future was impossible to predict.
The screams around him only grew louder.
This wasn't just a battleground. It was a hellscape of death, pain, and survival. Torture echoed from one cage, begging from another. The atrocities weren't limited to one gender—men and women alike suffered horrific abuse. Survival came at the cost of everything human.
In here, trust was a death sentence.
Julius had survived today—but what came next? What was he supposed to do? There were no answers. Only uncertainty.
He tightened his grip on the knife.
Because in this place, anything could happen—and most of it already had.